All those with roots, like the Mangans, in Catholic Ireland must surely have felt the urge to go and stock up
You almost find me on my way to Berlin. I’m not usually one for travel – I haven’t left the UK since 2017 and my passport has about 10 minutes left to run (it’s not patriotism, by the way, it’s sloth) – but exceptions must always be made in the case of a Kartoffel-Flut.
It means “potato flood”. There has been such a bumper harvest of God’s own tuber this year that German farmers are literally giving them away. Around the city 174 dump/distribution spots have been set up, and charities, churches and citizens are being encouraged to take as much as they can. Berlin zoo has also been given tonnes to feed its animals.
What a vision. What a demi-paradise. All those whose roots, like the Mangans’, are to be found in Catholic Ireland will feel the urge to go and stock up stirring in their ancestral DNA. The connection is deep and it is real. I genuinely had to be restrained from going. It made no financial sense, said my husband. “You’re an Ulster Protestant,” I replied. “Of course you’re going to say that.” He has hidden my passport. What do they say about history? Tragedy first, then it repeats itself as domestic farce. But I’ll find that passport yet.
