Fine, I’ll Stop Being Flippant About Graduation

19 Jul

Earlier this week I took a few days off from the new job that I really like to go hang out with some people I really like. That, and formally accept my degree, which I would really like if they’d actually given it to me.


Instead, I got a man dressed like a wizard shaking my hand and saying something that amounts to “You have a degree now, nice one bruv” in Welsh. Since I won’t receive an actual certificate for 6-8 weeks, my ‘official’ photograph will feature me happily gripping a small piece of PVC piping, possibly cut from under a sink in one of the Vice Chancellor’s forty-seven mansions if I’m lucky, with some ribbon wrapped around it.

I have failed at not being flippant.

It was, in all seriousness, a jolly good time, and I got to hang out with the majority of my Cardiff-based friends, many of whom said far more nice things about me than I conceivably warrant.

I was intensely, if privately, miserable for much of my time at uni, so I don’t feel bad for being proud about the work I did there or the First that it reaped. But when it came to who I shared kitchens with…Christ, I was one lucky fucking bastard.


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