Kate Gleeson has been living in London on and off for about 20 years. The 36-year-old moved to be closer to her mother, who had already moved there from Co Waterford. Gleeson is her mother’s carer and also runs her own charity, called Kilburn State of Mind.
“I love it here,” she says. “I love it because I feel like I can disappear, because it’s such a huge population. It feels kind of comforting to be able to walk around and not bump into people that you know when you’re having a bad day. It can be a very lonely city as well because of that. But, because it’s just so busy here all the time, there’s always something to do to keep you occupied.”
In Ireland we’re very much, ‘Morning, how are you?’ and smiling at someone. None of that here
Gleeson says she seeks out Irish people on All-Ireland final days and St Patrick’s Day. “And the odd time I go to an Irish pub just because I feel a little bit homesick.”
Culturally, Gleeson says Irish people are definitely friendlier. “I probably shouldn’t say that. I think we’re known to be that.” A big difference she notices is that “English people don’t know a lot about our history. It can be very frustrating when they don’t understand. We obviously learn about their history, and we learn about our own history in school in Ireland, but they don’t learn about the history like that over here. They don’t have a clue, so I find myself sitting in pubs and having to educate them on everything that’s happened.”
One Ballsbridge review: Can Oliver Dunne break the curse of this Dublin 4 dining room?
Why are we getting condensation on our new triple-glazed windows?
100 great restaurants, cafes and places to eat in Ireland 2024
I had my kids in my mid-20s, which was unheard of among women of my class and generation
Other cultural differences aren’t as obvious, Gleeson says, because of the diversity within the population. “It’s such a multicultural city anyway. I always called it the world in one city. I could be sitting around a table of all my friends, and I’m looking around and not one of us are the same race.”
[ Irish in London in 2022: A vibrant new generation amid an ageing populationOpens in new window ]
Gleeson says she finds there is a stereotypical expectation of Irish people to contend with in London. “Well, sure, you like your drink. And little traditional things – I don’t know why people think that in Ireland we’re so shut off from the rest of the world. The potato thing comes up a lot.”
Religious rites of passage that are familiar to Irish families, such as First Holy Communion, are notably absent in London, Gleeson says. “Whenever the Communion [season] started back home you’d see them everywhere. You’d see the girls in their beautiful dresses and the guys dressed up. You don’t see that here. I don’t think I’ve ever, in all the years I’ve been here, seen a little girl in a Communion dress. Ever.”
For now, I do love London. I’m going to go back home for Christmas, and I know every time I go there it’s harder and harder to leave. My heart is in Ireland. It’s never left
While Gleeson isn’t a regular Mass-goer, she says does seek solitude in the familiar when times are tough. “It’s so, like, hypocritical, because I do go when I’m feeling down, and it brings me a little bit of feeling of back home. I went on Easter Sunday last year ... to the Catholic church down the road ... and the majority of people that were there were older Irish people.”
The tendency of Irish people to swear more liberally is something Gleeson has to be very aware of, she admits. “I have to tone it down a lot. They don’t understand. Shouting words like, ‘Ah, you bitch, I haven’t seen you in ages,’ in terms of endearment. But people here are kind of going, ‘Oh, that’s a bit rude,’ ‘That’s a bit aggressive, mate,’ so you do tone it down. But when I meet my Irish mates, yeah, we go on and on like that. Everyone here is, like, ‘Hi, babe,’ ‘Hi, darling,’ ‘Hi, sweetheart.’ It’s all a bit sweetie-sweet.”
One of the most notable differences, she says, is the lack of engagement with strangers. “I dislike that very much,” she says. “In Ireland we’re very much, ‘Morning, how are you,’ and smiling at someone ... None of that here.”
She also notices a difference in family relationships among her peers. “Not many people are very close to their family at all. I find it very strange. For now, I do love this place. I’m going to go back home for Christmas, and I know every time I go there it’s harder and harder to leave. My heart is in Ireland. It’s never left.”
Brian Gillespie, a choreographer and the director of the contemporary dance company B-Hybrid Dance, moved to London 13 years ago to pursue a degree in dance and theatre studies.
The 31-year-old says he finds London liberating. “I always knew from when I was a teenager that I was completely fascinated by city life. I grew up on a farm in rural Donegal, but I knew that I was interested in exploring the rest of the world, different cultures, my own sexuality, different artistic practices, and I knew that I would only be able to find those places in a big city.”
[ Lunch clubs, food banks and warm hubs: the older London Irish face a tough winterOpens in new window ]
While Ireland may have the reputation of being one of the friendliest countries in the world, Gillespie finds that he has adapted to the London way of not speaking to strangers. “Nobody speaks to each other here at all. I think I’ve definitely become accustomed to that. Even the thought of going home and being on a bus and having to revisit the chats that you would have had with random people as a teenager, that daunts me now, to be honest.
“It is 100 per cent easier to be gay in a big city,” Gillespie says. “In your local community in Ireland, everywhere you go, you know someone, so there’s always an element of fear, especially when you’re not out. There’s always an element of fear of being outed. Whereas in London I had a large sense of relief of just walking down the street and knowing that nobody knew me.
Knowing that a lot less people care about your sexual preference or orientation is one of the main reasons, I think, why a lot of queer people come to cities and a lot of the reason why we thrive here
“Knowing that you’re around a lot more people who are like you is comforting in itself. Knowing that a lot less people ... actually care what your sexual preference or orientation is. And that is one of the main reasons, I think, why a lot of queer people come to cities and a lot of the reason also why we thrive and really survive here. It becomes ... this normal thing in a pool of people that just don’t care and see each other as human, rather than outlining someone’s difference for difference’s sake.”
Gillespie misses some of the cultural staples that we take for granted in Ireland. “Things like the Toy Show, Eurovision or the GAA final. They are things that the Irish do very well in bringing ourselves together and being very proud of what we do, or our cultural differences. They’re staple points within the Irish calendar that we hold very dear to our hearts and nobody really wants to miss it. I really miss it being abroad, because it’s just not the same.”
There is a perceived stereotype of Irish people in London, Gillespie says, “same as the rest of the world. They think we’re all diddly-dee and made of potatoes, and drink pints for breakfast. That’s the kind of go-to theme that someone says to you whenever they meet you, but you also have to take into consideration that nobody really in London is from London.
“Workwise, for me, I always see London as being a base. I definitely don’t think I could live here 12 months a year for the rest of my life. I guess the Donegal lad in me wants the quietness, wants the fresh air, wants the sea breeze … I’m not quite sure how keen I am on maybe raising kids in the city, either, but if I was fortunate enough to be able to have the best of both worlds, then I think London is a base rather than home for me.”
