... or Graduation, as it's more commonly known. So, I won't lie, the day itself was pretty horrible to begin with. Did anyone else hate feeling like cattle being poked and prodded and photographed and shunned from photographer to gowns to stage to photographer? When I finally did get to chill out a bit, it was quite nice to see some of my Uni buds and chat about what people are up to now we've left and other grown up stuff like that.
I'm really chuffed and proud and all of that other stuff I'm meant to feel, but ultimately I'm just bloody grateful it's all over. Graduation for me wasn't so much a celebration, but a massive, pompous, over the top sigh of relief.
Thanks for all of your well wishes this week though! I've only shown one Instagram photo so far, so here are some more snaps from the day itself, courtesy of my Dad.
And, actually, the most important thing is thanking everyone else who helped me over the years. Those who calmed me down over the phone when I sat in the library crying I DON'T UNDERSTAND EPISTEMOLOGY in the middle of the night, those who took me to the doctors when I was having stupid panic attacks on the bus (which, I am irritated to say, have never really gone away), those who smuggled me packets of Mini Eggs into my room and hid them in places I'd only find in times of sheer desperation.
You know who you are, you're awesome, and I love you.