Yes, folks. It’s official. I am finally, after many years of travail, a University Graduate. Round of applause please!
The graduation ceremony took place last Wednesday. Where was I? Sydney. Working. Yes, I could have taken time off work to attend my grad ceremony, but it would have required two days. My uni is a good 9 hour drive away! And because it’s not in a capital city, a flight would have cost an absolute fortune. Then, I would have had to make up those two days by going back to Sydney, joining another training group, and possibly not finishing my training for another month or two. For what? To sit in an auditorium with 1000 other people, waiting my turn to shake hands with the knob on stage? NO THANK YOU.
So tonight, when I got home from work, I checked the mail: there was my degree. I confess to being disappointed. It is an A4 sized sheet of slightly thicker than normal paper. No parchment. No ink. No wax seal. It isn’t even written in calligraphy. I think it may be typed in Arial.
You know what? I’m pleased I didn’t drive to Wagga Wagga. The tightarse in me is thrilled to bits that I didn’t go through a million litres of petrol at $2 a litre. I’m ecstatic that I didn’t fork out $150 for a night’s accommodation. I’m overjoyed that I wasn’t required to pay to hire a gown. And there will never, ever, be a photo of me wearing that ridiculous black hat. So it’s all good!
Where’s that bottle of champagne?