Wednesdays, I Love Wales?

Yes, there is a question mark.

I spent the first 27 years of my life living in England (well, except for the travelling overseas I did whilst at Uni but for argument's sake...) I considered myself British and lived in a lovely little bubble whereby I believed all Brits thought of themselves as British and that frictions between the individual countries which make up our 'Isles' were non-existent. (Except, perhaps, between the English and Scottish which was based purely on an unpleasant experience whilst in Paris when the World Cup (1998) was on and the Scots had invaded the City of Light to inflict mean-ness on a young English girl - more about this in a Travelling Tuesday post to follow soon...)

Anyway, 8 years ago (can it really have been that long?!) I found myself separated and in need of cheap (free!) childcare for my little girl so circumstance found me moving from the Motherland to Wales (to lean on Mum & Not-da-mama). No big deal...I loved visiting them in Wales and had spent many a weekend in enjoying the mountainous terrain and monstrous weather.

I managed to find a teeny-tiny house right at the bottom of a mountain which was nothing special at all...and I loved it. Spectacular views, whatever the weather. Exhilarating driving up and over the mountains wherever I wanted to go. Starrier skies than I can remember seeing before or since. Being snowed in (something I would never have believed genuinely possible before). Enjoying every show the local brass band had to offer. Adopting the word 'cwtch' - a favourite with my daughter. I was falling in love with this place.

As the years passed however, that love has faltered. Died, perhaps. It became painfully clear that there are some very nasty Anti-English currents running through Wales' green Valleys and they, amongst other things, have taken their toll on my sunny outlook. I find myself disenchanted. Not just because of this animosity (which, by the way, is bound to reach its annual peak in the coming weeks with the Six Nations Rugby now underway - great!) It should also be pointed out that I haven't had much luck with the local men either. That makes it sound as though I've tried to mount any Welsh farmer within a thirty mile radius which, despite a few alcohol-fuelled weekends in Cardiff, I am almost certain I have never done. Not that I can claim enormous success with English (or French) men. If I had, I wouldn't have been moving to Wales post-divorce. But still, I'd managed to have my heart broken by Wales' answer to Charlie Sheen, swiftly followed by a love that was promised and yet (with hindsight) most definitely unrequited (in any real way).

So, why not move? (Or perhaps the Welsh reading this will be urging me to bugger off if I don't like it!) Well, I would have. Only, while I was busy finding the wrong Welshmen, my ex-husband and father of my lovely daughter had gone and found the right Welshwoman. Relocation would have had to have been a team effort and that just wasn't something I could have proposed! Stuck. Trapped. Perfect conditions for resentment to set in and grow...and I think it has laid down some fairly firm roots.

So, why not just be miserable about Wales and bitch about it every chance I get? Call me a glutton for punishment but I somehow ended up getting involved with Welshie III and, who knew, it would seem this is third time lucky. Four and a half years later and we are going strong. And I don't want to hate my man's homeland. And as if that weren't enough, I am now the proud joint-owner of a beautiful half-Welsh baby boy. Not to mention that my daughter has lived here since she was 18 months old. My parents live here full-time now. My brother and his family have followed.

Here's what I propose.

I'm going to endeavour to force myself to fall back in love with this nation. Is it even possible? I don't believe we can force ourselves to fall in love with a person. In fact, that song about "if you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with" angers me greatly! But perhaps we can nurture a little seed of affection for the country we live in... Maybe all I need is to find that seed.

Where love is concerned, I am certain it is the little things that count. So, I think I'll start there. I'm going to make an effort to notice the little things again and, who knows, maybe we'll be in love before the year's out.