It’s a statistic that we can’t be proud of as a nation – in 2012 more than 200 people a day left Ireland without a return date in mind.
With emigration levels soaring and many of our young graduates heading for foreign shores, there can hardly be a soul left in the country who hasn’t had someone near and dear head off in search of adventure and opportunity.
While for many the decision to move is an exciting one, quite often it’s also tinged with sadness, and certainly many young Irish people feel as though they don’t really have a choice.
So, we found ourselves with a lump in our throats when we spotted this little ode to the land left behind, shared by an unnamed emigrant-to-be last month just before they headed for Shannon airport and a new life in London.
Snapped and posted on image-sharing site Imgur, the traveller is already looking forward to looking back, so to speak. The resulting post hit us pretty hard, right in the feelings…
So it’s nearly six, and soon I’m about to head West to Shannon and do that most Irish thing of all, emigrate. While it’s easier than ever, part of me is aware of the tradition and I can’t stop thinking of all the things I’m going to miss. So here’s to the hurling and the Gaeilge. To battered sausages, mo Ghile Mear and the Cliffs of Moher. To James Joyce and Joe Canning, Yeats and Linehan. To Romantic Ireland, the Celtic Tiger and the grave. To Bunreacht na hEireann, whiskey chasers and Brian Lohan’s red helmet. To Hillbilly’s after a night out, taytos after a county final and pints after a funeral. To the Fields of Athenry, Thomond Park and Thurles. To Neil Black, Thierry Henry and Johnny fucking Leahy. To Amhran na bhFiann and being too polite to accept food on the first offering. To knowning that whatever these things mean now, they’ll probably mean more in a dingy, cramped pub in Clapham in future.
And most importantly, to coming home in future, head held high. Slan anois, Eire.
