Apparently, I’m Jewish.

Family get-together over Easter at which my eldest sister – always good for a story – disclosed this startling bit of news. Our grandmother – my mum’s mum, was adopted as a child in the early 1900s. Her real family were, according to my sister, Ukrainian Jews who’d fled the pogroms. And since Judaism is passed down through the mother’s side, we’re all technically Jewish. We’ll never know for certain. My mum – after a drink or two – was fond of saying “There are two secrets I’ll take to my grave”. Perhaps this was one of them. Not that I care. In London, most of us are a mash-up of various cultures but, given that the other side of my family are Irish Catholic, this would explain a lot. Double quantities of guilt, for a start, and the fact that my favourite version of Hava Nagila is by a bloke called Murphy.