Hayley Milthorpe, originally from Yorkshire, relocated to Ireland with her family at the age of 10 in 1991. She reminisces about moving to Ireland for a holiday that was never intended to end. However, after six years in Ireland, due to financial constraints, her parents were forced to return to England for work. Hayley stayed back in Ireland, shifting to Skibbereen and working in a local fish factory to support herself.
Hayley recalls having to quit school and struggling to make ends meet until she was 18. At 19, she became a young mum, following the footsteps of her father who had left home at 16. “My dad left the house at the same age, so he expected us to continue the tradition. I’m still amazed at how I made it through,” she says.
From her office at the Cultured Food Company located on the outskirts of Skibbereen, Hayley shares her story. Here, she is the mother of four children and the proud owner of Ireland’s first commercial sauerkraut company. Launched a decade ago, the company currently employs a team of five locals.
Hayley, although a non-representative example of the influx of UK immigrants to the southwest of Ireland, is amongst the 146 UK nationals residing in Skibbereen, as according to the 2022 census. Five per cent of the town’s population are British, making it Ireland’s most British town, followed by Kenmare and Killorglin in County Kerry which have 4.8 per cent and 3.8 per cent British inhabitants respectively. In 2022, UK nationals comprising the second largest non-Irish community after Polish, amounted to 83,347 individuals living in Ireland.
Despite having been in Skibbereen for several years, Hayley mentions that only after starting her own company did she feel an accepted part of the community. “I have always felt like an outsider, even back in school days because of my English accent which was seen as posh by locals. However, I hail from a working-class background,” she reveals, as she reflects on her identity ahead of the St Patrick’s weekend.
In her belief, the influx of diverse nationalities has imbued the country with richer diversity, compelling the Irish to embrace a more cosmopolitan mindset. Milthorpe, who holds her English cultural identity close despite residing in Ireland, indicates that the probability of an English child being subjected to blatant bullying is considerably lower today. Her experiences in Ireland are intertwined with her English identity that is hinted upon in her Yorkshire accent infused with West Cork nuances.
Another English immigrant, Alison Ospina, who moved to the area just outside Skibbereen with her family in 1996, despite retaining her English accent, feels intimately integrated into the local community. She recalls catching the recommendation of having their relocation to West Cork from friends with familial ties in Courtmacsherry. Before her move, she had a career as a psychiatric nurse and later became an author and chair maker in London.
In the local schools, newcomers were referred to as ‘blow-ins’ or derogatorily termed as ‘hippies’. She notes a shift in this attitude over the years. Her book, “West Cork Inspires” published in 2011 studies the influx of European creatives and artisans, predominantly English, that called West Cork their home from the 60s to the 90s.
West Cork painted an ideal set-up for the younger generation, primarily from the UK, in their quest for a self-sustaining life. In the backdrop of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament, Cork became a safe haven for those seeking refuge from a potential nuclear war. It was also progressive enough for the women fighting for their rights and to have children out of wedlock.
While there was an unquestionable cultural chasm between the native community and these English artists, people generally extended a warm welcome to the new settlers. Ospina narrates how the local farmers would be invited to their parties, where they’d be intrigued by braless women.
Ospina asserts that the coastal inhabitants, accustomed to witnessing people disembark on their shores for hundreds of years, seem to be more receptive and broad-minded.
Often, locals find that the friendliest, most conversational individuals are those who have returned from an absence, notes Ospina. She has realised that English newcomers have been increasingly making Ireland their new home recently. It isn’t just Brexit or the pandemic to blame; the unique relationship between Ireland and England opens the avenue for English people to become homeowners in Ireland, an option no longer feasible in France or Spain.
Former Devon GP, Noel Lawn, and his wife Lesley, used to reside above the idyllic Lough Hyne near Skibbereen, contemplated the idea of relocating overseas prior to 2016. However, the Brexit verdict in that year fast-tracked their decision. “Upon our impending retirement, Brexit occurred,” recalls Noel, who has Irish roots. He alludes to their strong connection to Europe, a commitment shattered by the contrary Brexit results. The appointment of Boris Johnson only exacerbated the matter for them, sealing their decision.
Lesley, who used to work as a translator, describes the atmosphere in their country post-Brexit as highly toxic and xenophobic, a situation she fears may have worsened now. The couple reminisces about the turbulent times five years ago, when the UK parliament was embroiled in intense divisions and high-running tensions, seeking a solution under Theresa May’s prime ministership.
Only 11 months after the formal Brexit in January 2020, they relocated to Cork. Welcomed warmly by locals who appreciated them as residents and not just holiday homeowners, the couple recalls their relocation journey. “Only two families on this road are natives,” points out Noel. He facetiously refers to the others as ‘blow-ins’, who, while being Irish, are not native to this particular locality.
When questioned about their experience as British emigrants in Ireland, they highlight how living in west Cork has broadened their understanding of Irish history. Despite their arrival being tied to Brexit, they express gratitude for not experiencing any hostility. “Historical guilt does weigh on us, but our Irish companions assure us that it’s a thing of the past,” Lesley shares, adding that while it’s remembered, they haven’t been made to feel accountable.
Feeling comfortable and without a shred of regret about his decision to move, Noel expresses his contentment at being embraced in the land his grandmother was forced to depart due to economic circumstances. The sense of fulfilment he gleans from this return resonates deep within him.
Alice Halliday on the other hand, a clothes designer living just outside of Skibbereen with her partner and two boys, recounts how the perception of the local population in west Cork towards the English has evolved since her family’s arrival in the latter part of the 1980s.
With the rise in cultural diversity in the area these days, acceptance and hospitality levels have increased significantly. Regarding the place as quite accommodating with a laid-back lifestyle, Alice voices her appreciation of the area.
Despite her arrival in Ireland when she was merely a year old, Alice maintains the vestige of an English accent. Throughout her childhood, this accent was a source of victimisation for her. She articulately describes her experiences where, until her high school years, she felt out of place due to local prejudices and derogatory comments. The accent marked her and her family out as foreigners, an identification she disputed, asserting her identity as a local, having spent most of her life there, except for her first year in Bristol and four years pursuing fashion studies in Warwickshire.
Alice asserts her love for her home in west Cork but also states her refusal to be pigeonholed as either Irish or British. In her view, humans, regardless of their origin, are part of a shared world and putting a nationality-based label on them opposes this wider sense of unity. She suggests that she shouldn’t be compelled to align herself with either British or Irish identity, nevertheless, she claims west Cork as her abode.