This morning I opened Instagram to see the question:

“What does it mean to be English?”

I’ve long debated whether I refer to myself as British or English. (Don’t get me started on the websites that refer to United Kingdom as a nationality – that is purely a political union). My passport states I’m British but I’ve never lived anywhere other than England. My grandmother was Irish and that’s about as exotic as I get.

In recent years I’ve not wanted to associate myself with either though – it’s not like England or Britain has done much of late to be proud of on the world stage. I associate more with being a Londoner, having been born here and lived here for more than 20 years as an adult, or European, though the benefits of being such have been quickly taken away thanks to Brexit. (A reminder to get that Irish passport that I’m entitled to!)

Last month I went out to celebrate St Patrick’s Day as I do every year. Today I made no such plans to celebrate St George’s Day, England’s national day. I never have done anything to ‘celebrate’ it, I’m not even sure it is we are supposed to be celebrating. Something tells me though that a pub celebrating St George’s Day wouldn’t be the same fun, friendly and lively experience as celebrating St Patrick’s Day.

Ok, you could argue that a lot of the reasons that 17 March is such a big day of celebration is due to the excellent marketing campaign by Guinness – one of Ireland’s most famous exports. But whilst there are parades in various cities across the world to celebrate all things Irish, the only kind of ‘parade’ I’m aware of to celebrate St George today was a march in Westminster attended primarily by far right groups, including the likes of Tommy Robinson and Lawrence Fox, which resulted in six arrests.

When I look at Scotland and Wales it feels like they have a clear sense of national identity, traditions and pride for where they come from. I can’t think of anything that is quintessentially English – queuing, the Sunday roast and the pub all feel British rather than English. I certainly can’t think of much that makes me proud to be English. The one thing you can say about the country though is that we are a divided and broken country.

Those who claim to be proudly English these days seem to be those who support the England football team, drink pints of cheap lager until they pass out on the streets and, sadly, are increasingly racist, fuelled by newspapers such as the Sun, Daily Mail and Daily Express. Ok, that’s a bit of a stereotype, but these are the people who have claimed Englishness and the England flag. Apart from when it’s displayed amongst flags from around the world at global events, I avoid anywhere prominently displaying St George’s flag.

As for St George, our patron saint, he apparently “stands for the courage to face adversity in order to defend the innocent”. Mmm, considering recent political news and events it sounds like, Ukraine aside, we are doing anything but defending the innocent.

I came across this article earlier that tells a little more about the dragon defeating knight – Nine things you didn’t know about St George.

I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not feeling English. I live in a multicultural area of a cosmopolitan city rather than rural England. The world changes. Time moves on. The 21st century is a different world to the last century and we must evolve and change with it rather than staying in the past.