Today, 45 days after the election, New Zealand officially got its new government. 1News political reporter Felix Desmarais was there as Christopher Luxon and his coalition were sworn in at Government House in Wellington.
Mmm, I love a peaceful transfer of power in the morning.
Today's official appointment of our new prime minister Christopher Luxon and ministers was not my first swearing in rodeo, having watched Chris Hipkins become prime minister in January.
Not much has changed at Government House since then, although the painting of a young (think The Crown season 1) Queen Elizabeth II at the head of the table has been shifted to make way for a much less grand portrait photo of her son, King Charles III. I'm told on good authority it will soon be replaced with a painting of the King. But these things take time.
I'm sure the late Queen doesn't mind either — further relegated down the room is a painting of her father, King George IV. Such is life, I suppose, the ebb and flow of the tide.
In the same way the tide went out for Labour, the National Party has also bodysurfed into power on a blue wave (in the electorates at least) — with a not insignificant bit of paddling assistance from ACT and New Zealand First.
No matter one's stripes these occasions are happy ones, taking on a feeling a bit like a wedding. That's appropriate, perhaps, given during the election campaign there was about a week where ACT leader David Seymour seemed intent on forcing that metaphor upon coalition arrangements.
There's even an after-match reception, complete with pinkies delicately aloft on champagne flutes. Not that the media were allowed into that part.
One wily reporter managed to get a hold of one of the hors d'ouvres on offer, proffered by a kindly National Party staffer: A bite-sized pancake with cream cheese, salmon and two unidentified orange fish eggs on top.
Many of the families are also in attendance, and it’s lovely to see some of them beaming as their loved ones face likely the biggest job of their lives.
This was especially so for William Luxon, Christopher Luxon's son, who positively beamed throughout the ceremony. It would be bloody cool to watch your dad become the PM.
The media arrives all together in one bus, and are among the first in the room — corralled by Government House staff, including one guarding the main media pack which faces the PM as he's sworn in. They're packed on a small dias.
Am I TV? I'm asked. Yes, I'm TV... NZ. Do I have to be here? The staffer asks.
If not I'm to go to the end of the room, in the back, a sort of penance for being a steward of the written word rather than moving pictures. I say it's not easy to write about the reactions of politicians when I can't see them well.
I'm sent to the back of the room.
At least I can see William, if I peer between New Zealand First MP Mark Patterson and ACT MP Karen Chhour's guests.
The ceremony begins in te reo Māori, with a karanga, karakia and mihi whakatau. It holds an odd significance ahead of the swearing-in of a government that is swearing off te reo Māori, for government department names at least.
It's a New Zealand First policy, one of the very first the party announced in fact, and one of the first 2023 election stories I did. One of many stories on New Zealand First that leader Winston Peters now appears to claim were never written.
The party's deputy leader, Shane Jones, also swears his oath of allegiance in te reo Māori.
As incoming ministers do so, they swear using their full names, including their middle names, which are not often known to the public.
Obviously, the best ever was the revelation of Phil Stoner Twyford — a family name, I understand — which caused a few double takes on his swearing-in.
This time we have two Raymonds — Winston Raymond Peters and Shane Raymond Reti.
Meanwhile, Nicola Valentine Willis and Penelope Elsie Simmonds win first and second place respectively this term. I text the new Finance Minister to clarify the origin of Valentine, and she confirmed it was her mother's maiden name.
Willis proudly added Shona Valentine was her mum's name when she worked as a journalist in the press gallery, and that mum had enjoyed hearing her name read out.
By this point, we're about three hours in, so you'll forgive me for keeping myself awake with such novelties. Every oath is largely the same unless an MP decides not to mention the "so help me God" part. The second part of the oath, which commits the swearer to the secrecy of Cabinet, clearly needs to be rewritten as almost every MP fumbles it.
But like getting teary-eyed in an election booth you'll also forgive me a moment to appreciate the beauty of how power changes hands in our country.
There are plenty of people out there who reviled the Labour government, and many too who would rather not the coalition now take power. But the ceremony, while perhaps a bit antiquated, is entirely cordial, positive and peaceful.
What a magnificent thing that in our country, power rather quietly changed hands among no more than 200 people, simply by following a ritual and signing some documents. All relatively casually, despite all the ties, heels and shined shoes in the room.
Needless to say, it's not the same way in other countries. And it's not something we should take for granted in Aotearoa New Zealand.
It's something to cherish. No matter which side of the fence you're on — or even, at the back of the room.
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