Britishness. 11 hours and counting.

Tonight is my last night as a citizen of only 1 country. Tomorrow at 1pm, I will be finally swearing an oath to Queen and country (how very James Bond), and becoming British. Right after the ceremony, I intend to get my British passport and standard issue, possibly Nike, track suit, obviously in bright pink (ooh sexy). I then intened to quit my job and start collecting my benefit cheques which everyone's tax money is paying for, start wearing Burberry with some real conviction, talk about those f’in imigrants comin’ to ma country and takin’ our bleedin’ jobs, and spend my first giro cheque. Also, according to the press, as a British woman, I should be drinking 110 units of alcohol a week, get into fist fights with other women, try to smash someone's face with a bottle and get arrested for GBH.

Hurrah! What exciting things to look forward to eh!

Tomorrow, I have to stand infront of some official at the local town hall. I have to swear an oath to the Queen (which I've already done just by being born in Australia for fucks sake). I get a little certificate (I'm tempted to hang it in the toilet, because, heck, everyone will see it then won't they?), get my photo taken, and get a gift whose origin is "local to the region". Now since I'm swearing allegience to Liz in Peckham Town Hall, I've been trying to think what this gift could be. Not a bowler hat I'm thinking. Since Peckham is in South London (pronounced "sauff london"), and it's all a bit dodge here, I'm torn between expecting one of the following: velour track suit, contraceptives or a baby pram.

Christ, I can't believe tomorrow I will be British. I've only been waiting for this for the last 5 years now, and now that it's less than 12 hours away, I kindof feel a bit, well, aprehensive about it. It's not that I'm unhappy to have made my decision to stay here, but it's not without some guilt and pain at leaving my friends, family, but mostly my parents, thousands of miles away, for such a long time. It's especially wierd since percurment of British citizenship has been my main reason for staying. And now that I've got it, it's just so, well, wierd. Like wishing for Christmas as kid, only to find that it's infact just another day, but with more food and shouting.

I guess all in all I'm happy about this. It's what I've said I've wanted, and now I've got it. I guess I just don't know what I'm supposed to want next... I suppose there's nothing else for it really. I'll just have to now start wanting a manor in the country, long to wear flat caps, breed horses and start fox hunting with hounds. Tally-ho old chaps.