Nice rumination on the meaning and importance of 'Brummie'—never 'Brummy' remember.
"Like generations of Brummies, I wasn’t born here. My family moved here a week after my sixth birthday. My parents were teachers whose first language, like many incomers, wasn’t English (it was Welsh). My dad would have been about 32 when we came. He died thirty years later having therefore lived far more of his life here than anywhere else. We scattered his ashes on the canal near Witton. He loved this city and was militantly proud of it. For his fiftieth birthday he made us walk around the newly built ICC, marveling, then go on a canal trip" [link]