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Scrubs and Pubs

Graduand

I woke up to the sound of my alarm after a paltry 5 hours sleep. Tempted to snooze I grabbed my phone, but then I remembered...

"Today is graduation day! My final day as a student. Should probably get up then..."

Getting ready was a sleepy blur. As per usual my hair would not behave itself, so I gave up the fight. I managed to squeeze on a packed rush hour train. I was more flustered than excited. The flustering continued as picking up tickets and gowns was as stressful as being in Ikea on a bank holiday. Once I'd picked everything up I was glad for the sunshine and the chance to stand outside and meet my Dad.

My Dad is officially the sweetest Dad in the world.

OK, I know I'm biased, but when I tell you why I think you'll agree. Not only did he turn up with a smart new haircut, there was also something a lot more special. He was wearing the (hideously awful) tie I made him at school when I was 11. I almost burst into tears. He's even proud of my dubious foray into fashion.

The next hour was spent mainly showing off our parents and trying to stop them wandering off before heading towards the Cathedral to graduate.

I'm not sure what I expected from the ceremony, but I loved it. I love the ritual of the robes. I love the academic staff's different costumes. I even loved the addresses made by various people from uni. This was probably helped by the fact that they were all quite short and sweet.

Before I knew it the time had come...

PANIC!!

What if I fell over? I am notoriously clumsy.

With an incredible level of concentration I put one foot after the other, trying not to stumble. The couple of students before me went past in a blur. Then it was my turn...

Step, smile, shake hands, a few more steps, smile, simultaneously shake hands and take scroll and step off the stage...

continued at Scrubs and Pubs (my new blog as a junior doctor)