... do birds suddenly appear, every time I am near ... . No. I know the answer to that one. The question I don't know the answer to - or one of them at least - is why I'm bothered about being one thing or the other.
I dislike people who wrap themselves in their national flag and descend into a nationalist fervour. I hate it particularly, when the Brits and the Yanks do it. They seem to become more obnoxious than almost anybody else when they get themselves into that sort of mood.
That being the case, why is it so important to me to be 'an Italian' rather than 'an Englishman'? Especially given Cecil Rhodes' reassurance - 'remember that you were born an Englishman and have therefore won 1st prize in the lottery of life'. Why should a man who hates nationalism be at all concerned about what national badge is pinned on his lapel?
I have never been comfortable being a member of things and go out of my way to evade classification - when someone remarked on the earrings in my left ear with approval because only 'queers' wear them in their right ear, I went out and got a ring put in my right ear. I'm a civil servant who looks like an aging anarchist - four earrings in my left ear, an earring and a bar in my right ear and several tattoos (all of which are easily hidden, I hasten to add. I'm not that much of an anarchist).
It might reasonably be said that I've gone out of my way to paint myself as being anything but respectable. I'm the one who, in pretentious company, pours his tea into his saucer and drinks it from the saucer. That doesn't answer the question about the badge on my lapel though.
Did the promise have that much of an effect on me? Have I become a slave to the promise? I don't think so. Is it just a desire to be different? Now that's entirely possible.
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