Thread by @NudderingNudnik

Slightly mawkish thread alert. So don't say you weren't warned.

Today Sheffield Pride - @PrideSheffield - is being held in my local park. We wandered up with the dog, strolled around the site, had a coffee and generally beamed with sheer pleasure.

Being of a certain age, my wife and i both remember times when our gay and lesbian friends were very much not welcome.

Today in our local park families, children, couples, teenagers, old folk, groups of mates all shared a common experience. Of totally uncomplicated acceptance.

The fact that so many families were spending the day at Pride with their kids of all ages, the fact that there were so many groups of young teens all draped in the rainbow was the highlight.
So we beamed. At the kids. At the acts on stage, at the police handing out sweets.

We beamed because there is nothing like seeing a community that was once totally marginalised being accepted for exactly who they are. Nothing more, nothing less. It's particularly lovely when that community includes a number of dear friends.

And as we left the park I realised that my joy was ever so slightly tinged with something else. Not quite, but something related to loss.
Because it dawned on me that what i had just experienced was pretty much all I really would love to experience as a British Jew.

No one today was telling the Sheffield LGBT community that it had work to do to build trust.
No one was telling it that reports of homophobia were politically motivated lies.
No one wanted to be free to say their allegiance lay elsewhere.

Of course LGBT communities still suffer abuse, threat and hostility. But not today. A whole city was able to come together and in a completely uncomplicated way just celebrate a small community for who they are.

Seeing everyone draped in the rainbow flag or holding a flag fluttering in the wind (it seems British weather is back) I had a vision of a similar event where people of all backgrounds came together and were proud to wear a Star of David flag.I wondered how i would feel.

It's obvious. I would feel welcome, validated, vindicated, accepted and safe.
None of which i - or what appears to be a huge proportion of our British Jewish community - is feeling very much of right now.

So, it was of course just a fleeting and foolish little daydream. And like all daydreams, it was shaken off in an instant.
And as we left Sheffield Pride I was still beaming. I was still glad I had been.

But i have been reminded (as if i needed it) that for British Jews, our day in the park is a long, long way off and may never come at all.