I became a British citizen last week. During the official ceremony in the town hall of Camden Council, one of London’s 32 councils, sat several dozen people, the sorts I see every day in my adopted home.
Some women were dressed in headscarves and long skirts, others tight jeans and leather jackets. One man wore an expensive-looking pinstripe suit, while another trudged in with a knitted cap and a long t-shirt. Nobody really stood out, except maybe the young woman with electric blue dreadlocks and thigh-high moon boots.
The CD player balancing precariously on a chair in the corner lent the event an unfinished feeling, a surprise in a country that practically invented pageantry.