This is my good (and completely bloganonymous) friend just after he had received his UK citizenship from the High Sheriff. My friend is the one not in fancy dress.
I was thrilled to be invited along because it was such a pleasure to see him glowing, almost exploding, with delight on finally getting his citizenship.
It looks very formal in the shot, especially with the jack and the queen peeping out from the background. I do not do formal occasions and hate any costume more complex than overalls so I had anticipated having to grit my teeth supportively throughout.
There was no need to worry, though.
The group receiving citizenship that day represented 7 nations, and had come with their families, all gloriously dressed for the day. The room teemed with happy children, and the atmosphere was relaxed and almost festive.
As a life-long republican, anarchist, hater of hierarchies, and libertarian I had all my outrage circuits primed and ready to go, expecting the ceremony to be dire. They are so often as dull as the very dullest water from the very dullest ditch, and devoid of any real meaning.
At the time the Sheriff had only been sheriffing highly for a week or so, and this was his first shot at the citizenship slot.
To my huge surprise, the Sheriff's personality was much bigger than his costume, and very much funnier. The formalities over, he gave an address which was awash with warmth, welcome, humanity, and Yorkshire humour. It felt as if he was talking to individuals personally, rather than to an amorphous group. It felt like a genuine warm handshake, a verbal hug. I thought he was wonderful.
Things are not always what they seem.
And if anyone in the room felt prouder than my bloganonymous friend, well, I hope they got medical attention before their happy citizenship came to an untimely end.
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