I can still feel her in my arms, hear her gurgles and cries. Albums with her pictures are in a cupboard. We look at them often. (Sorry guys, phone snaps can never be as evocative.) A tiny pair of blue Converse shoes, her pacifier, the silky cloth she always clutched, a tiny cap knitted by her paternal gran and a little gold bracelet given to her by my mum, are in a beautiful box.
We parents talk about “empty-nest syndrome” – that sense of loss when children leave home to find work, go to university or college. But there is no term for the intense, confused, contradictory emotions that overwhelm us when children fly off to build their own lives and nests with a chosen soulmate.
The strangers on these isles are led by those like Farage and Starmer. Don’t fear them. Pity them
I also have to deal with cultural dilemmas. Our daughter is marrying an Englishman, as I did and my late sister did. Our son’s wife is English too. At my wedding, I wore an Indian outfit. My female friends and cousins did so too. The food was Indian. Expressing this part of my multiple identity was important to me. That identity matters less and less to my offspring, which I accept but find painful. Imagine my joy, then, when our daughter asked me to organise a mehendi (henna) lunch. White and black women attending are intrigued and delighted too.
Shapeshifting Keir Starmer’s latest utterings dishonour that history and all of us of migrant heritage. He doesn’t call upon those who want to keep their enclaves white to “integrate”. He doesn’t praise and thank the migrants who service our country, who excel at science, the arts, sports and business. He doesn’t say he is proud of the inclusiveness and creativity of modern Britishness. Instead he channels Enoch Powell and Nigel Farage, by warning the UK could become “an island of strangers” without tougher immigration curbs.
square IAN DUNT Starmer is as bad as those who came before him. What a bitter disappointment
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My mother, who spoke rudimentary English, lived in shared accommodation with mostly white pensioners. They rubbed along. One day, some of them asked me about a henna rose tattoo on my wrist. I took some in, and drew little flowers on their hands. The coming wedding reminded me of that fun day. And Danny’s upbeat words about our “rainbow nation” have given me heart.
Our nation mixes and merges, redefines its contours and character. The strangers on the isles are those who fight against that inevitability, led by white leaders like Farage and Starmer. Don’t fear them. Pity them instead. For they are lost in time and trying to gain control of a place they do not understand.
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