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Looks imposing: but what do you have to do?

Last century when I landed on these gentle shores, the US of A did not allow their citizens to hold another passport, so I accepted my position as a resident and lived with its limitations. 

In recent years Uncle Sam has become more accommodating and now allows dual nationality, so I started to think it over. 

Strangely it was moving house that prompted me to action. Naively I posted off my driver's licence for a change of address, and that's when they informed me that as a non-UK passport holder they would require my US passport for up to six weeks. I work abroad regularly, I can't do that.

Poker face

But acquiring UK citizenship has become a complicated process (although still easier than getting a new photo driver's licence - how weird is that?). 

First you buy the 150 page A4 booklet, "Life in the United Kingdom", and crib up for the 45 minute test. What a learning curve: questions about the Huguenots, the first footing tradition and how far can you get from the sea.

Shaw House: citizenship ceremony venue

Once you think you're ready, you go to a testing centre, and this is serious business. If you manage to sit quietly, without averting your gaze and raise your hand when you're done, then you can sit a little longer until your number is called. 

Mr Richardson, how our man introduced himself, has a fixed expression. He prides himself on his poker face. He calls your number, closes the door to his office, looks up from his desk with no sign of life and says:

"I can inform you that you have ... (dramatic pause) ... Passed your Life in the UK test, congratulations."

His stern and less than sincere tone makes me laugh. He doesn't. But now I am qualified to apply for the ceremony. 

Jules (centre) at her citizenship ceremony

Tea and biscuits

A friend of mine emailed a photo diary of his London ceremony in some concrete civic building with stale digestives and a picture of the Queen propped up on a table. My expectations were low - unjustifiably, because West Berkshire pulls out all the stops.

In a stately home, Shaw House, just on the outskirts of Newbury, a series of ladies greet you and usher you in for tea and biscuits in the newly renovated dining room. There must've been 16 or 17 of us on my day. A couple from Turkey, a family from Taiwan and the odd foreign bride, me included. 

They brought guests as we gathered into a room decorated with flowers, a pulpit and a portrait of the Queen mounted on the wall. 

The service was conducted by Kate Mayo, a registrar I presume, in a tweed suit and a warm smile. Either side of her were Brian Bedwell, leader of West Berkshire Council, and John Miller, the High Sheriff of Berskhire in all his regalia. Each had a welcoming speech and then we rose to swear to God or affirm (to themselves I guess) allegiance to Queen and country. 

It was quite moving. I felt proud and a bit tearful to tell the truth. Finally, after the bulk of my adult life here, I belong.