Still no gong for me

Every year, around November or December time, I always look out for a sealed envelope dropping onto our front door mat from the Cabinet Office. Known as a 'sounding letter', the contents of that sealed envelope contain a notification of an award or title in the New Year's Honours List, and the recipient's agreement to accept the honour that is to be bestowed upon him or her. Either acceptance or rejection carries with it the proviso that the details of the list must remain confidential and not revealed until after the official announcement around the end of December. A sort of 'Official Secrets Act' order.

Considering why some people have been awarded a knighthood, damehood, CBE, OBE or an MBE over the years, I like to think that I have done more than enough in my seven decades of life on this planet to equal or better some of the awarded efforts of those lucky enough to have been picked, proposed and seconded in the first place. Not everyone, mind, just a few. But every year ends with me being disappointed; no gong for me again. So I carry on by hoping "well, there's always next year".

And I am not the only person I can think of 'in the real world' who deserves credit and recognition by way of a shiny medal. I know associates, ex-colleagues and lifelong friends who have done bravely courageous deeds or appreciative things for charity during their lives, yet have still not received the nod to go to Buck House or The Castle to have a medal pinned to their chest or have sword indentations made in the shoulders of their finest attire.

My dear departed mum always used to say that such honours are worthless, handed out like confetti to too many people and are not worth the paper the certificates (Warrants of Appointment) are printed on. As I've grown older, I tend to agree with her sentiments. She also held a belief that not too many 'ordinary people' received recognition by way of such honours. I agree with that viewpoint, too. A number of years ago, Queen Elizabeth II was known to have changed this scenario for a while after learning of a potential 'peasants revolt' for only allegedly awarding celebrities with big honours, wherein afterwards quite a number of 'commoners' were awarded medals of achievement (yet not too many knighthoods as I recall). But then that idea quickly died out and we are now back to the point of hearing only about 'well known faces' receiving the acknowledgements from royalty. 

Am I jealous? No, that's not what I would call it. Envious? Maybe, as it is nearer the mark. What's the difference between the two? Quite simple. Jealousy is where you wholeheartedly resent somebody else having what you can't have, whereas envy is wishing you had what they have without recourse. But, in this position of not being recognised for making it onto the New Year's Honours List, it's immaterial anyway whether or not I am jealous or envious. Let's just say that I remain in a wistful yearning state for what I can't achieve. A desirous pining, if you will. I dare say that 'Sir' at the front of my name would look dapper and not out of place, although I think that the only way I am going to achieve that is by adding it by deed pole!

Good luck to any of you reading this if you can swing a visit to London or Berkshire to pick up a piece of 'chest furniture' in recognition of something, however trivial, you have done in your life. Just don't spend every Christmastime like me waiting for your Cabinet Office envelope to arrive. You might end up feeling continually let down by the system.  

Trevor Mulligan