What could you do in the space of five years? Circumnavigate the globe? Qualify as a doctor? Write a novel – or several? Well, I spent half a decade getting my Polish passport.
Let me take you back to 2020. While other people confined to their homes and in decent health baked banana bread, worshipped at the altar of Joe Wicks and forgot to unmute themselves on Zoom, I decided to spend my abundant free time rejoining the European Union.
I sent my first email enquiry to the Polish Consulate on 4 November 2020, the eve of the second lockdown, and continued the process on and off until 29 April this year, when I stood on my doorstep and signed for a delivery.
Shorts
Between 2011 and 2021, the number of residents in England and Wales with more than one passport doubled from 612,000 to 1.26 million – which one might surmise had something to do with Brexit. For me, smoother travel to and within the EU wasn’t the only consideration. My Polishness (or, technically, half-Polishness) feels a core part of my being, and I wanted to make it official.
