“Yes, we have a Greggs in Wales.”

Yes, I was actually asked that question. But in all seriousness, this is about my experience as a Welsh girl moving to The Midlands. Original? Of course not. As a friend of mine once said…

“And blogging is dead. We’ve all been there and done that. Full of images taken out of context with no real history or reference behind them. The internet is anonymous and therefore artifice.”

This is a topic that has probably been beaten to death by people that are from far more exotic and interesting countries. Well, maybe interesting is an unfair word to use, exotic too. I mean, what’s more exotic than basically watery broth with a name literally translated “soup”. 

I won’t go into too much detail about the Welsh history but our flag IS a dragon and Mount Everest was named after Welshman Sir George Everest. 

You’d think that the people of Nottingham would consider this, but no. They don’t give a shit. Now let me fill you in on the reality of being a Welsh girl living in England for the first time. 

Within days of moving to Nottingham I had already come to terms with being established as ‘the Welsh one.’ This title carries a heavy burden of both clichΓ© sheep-related jokes and an assumption that Wales is in an alien land that my new English friends have relentlessly questioned me about. 

Just last week, I was asked “Do you have GCSE’s in Wales?” I probably shouldn’t be so harsh on them since “They don’t do them in Scotland, and they’re basically the same aren’t they? You both speak Gaelic?”

The main reaction I get when breaking the outrageous news that I am *whispers* ‘Welsh’ mostly involves widened eyes followed by;

“You don’t sound Welsh?”

Okay. Fair enough.

“You don’t LOOK Welsh!”

Sigh. I think it’s best to call it a day. Despite the constant struggle of being the ‘foreigner’ of every group and being targeted whenever something remotely Welsh is mentioned or even mimicked whenever I use Welsh slang such as “clean off” and having to confirm or deny every stereotype and sarcastic statement such as “have they discovered the Internet there yet?” 

I’m actually doing just fine, and more than often I think of those at my school that didn’t go to Cardiff university/met and wonder how they’re coping.

I hope you’re doing okay. We’re all in this together, in a way.


  1. Imagine being the other side of the world where they think Wales is a small village in England. It wrecks me. If I was given an Scottish pound for the number of times I’ve explained the political hot potato that is the complex relationship of the nations within the British Isles, I’d be a rich man.


  2. Interesting view from the other side of the fence.. Ddefinitively, it is not easy to be a ”foreigner’in someone else’s land. Just r member, what doesn’t kill you makes you strenger πŸ™ƒ


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