Graduation!

Well after three years it finally happened. And it was really hot, and hence uncomfortable in a suit, gown and several fake rabbits. I didn't see anyone faint but can imagine that it happened.

The photo took absolutely ages to organise, but only a couple of people didn't appear when their name was called, followed by the usual sarcasm from the Head Porter when they did. Then the senior tutor explained what all the Latin meant and how nobody could remember exactly why we need to hold someone's finger.

After a break everyone lined up, then after standing in the sun for 15 minutes all went to shade at once, only to have to rush back when the procession started moving. The traffic on Jesus Lane didn't seem to understand the ancient rights of graduands to walk along the middle of the road, so the procession was cut in two by a car, and then had to rush back upon entering St John's St.

Things got really weird after getting into the Senate House, with everyone squeezed into the back, and then the ceremony proceeding completely in Latin. Eventually I got to the front in my group of four, then after the Praelector vouching for my good character and academic standing while holding his finger I knealt in front of the Master, he took my hands in his and said some Latin and then that was it.

Then I had to stand in the sun holding my degree certificate and trying to avoid the wind destroying it until my parents (who had to sit through the whole ceremony) emerged. They took lots of photographs and had my certificate framed, and then we went back to college for drinks and lunch.

Suicide Sunday

Don't worry! To the best of my knowledge nobody took their life, especially since the exam results take at least another week to publish these days.

I managed to get out of bed in time for Communion in the Fellow's Garden, after which the Chaplain produced some highly exotic chocolate chip brioche rolls. Experience in previous years has shown that there tended to be more jam on the grass than on the brioche.

I then returned to bed for a couple of hours before having second breakfast by the Cam with some friends. This was of course a Champagne Breakfast, but we didn't have much as everyone was suffering a little from the night before.

One punt nearly went ofer Jesus Weir, which was rather amusing. Not quite as amusing as the American tourists last year who took their punt into the lock and expected some sort of automated lift system.

The End of the World

"Please stop writing"

Who would have thought that so few words could change so much?

After seven years of summer exams (with some additional winter ones around A Level), the examination treadmill had now stopped.

Celebrations were deffered somewhat by a quite extraordinary delay while the obligatory year photo was taken, before everyone dispersed into the wide variety of pubs with which the part of Cambridge around the Arts School is so well endowed.

After a pint and a move to another pub to meet some other friends (who I no longer felt jealous of for already being finished) I joined all the other compscis in Wetherspoons for a curry.

Shortly afterwards the coffee wore off and I went home to bed, for as much sleep as a temperature in the mid 20s will allow.

Who cares about a little wasted time now? I'm Free!