ROSEMARY MAC CABE

I graduated on Saturday, so there was a ceremony, robes, a cap that I didn’t wear, some delicious finger foods, a dinner in Brasserie 66 (more on which later), a few hours of socialising and a long, long sleep.

My parents – Mother especially – tend to object when it comes to putting images of them on my blog, so Clare has helped me do them a favour and I am preserving their dignity in the face of my absolute disrespect for what my Mother terms “priiiii-vacy”.

We had a ceremony in St Patrick’s Cathedral which was miraculously warm, although the seats are as sore as I remember them being when I went to hear Handel’s Messiah a few years ago. The ceremony itself was mercifully short, but the acoustics are terrible and as soon as other graduates had received their scrolls, the chatting began. There are certain moments in life during which I am ashamed to be (a) in my early twenties and (b) a woman, and Saturday, for a brief moment, I was both.

“Did you get your hair curled?” “Yeah, do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s gorgeous, soooo nice, this is so exciting!” Mid-ceremony. Not even during the clapping. At one point I turned around, like the wizened, grumpy pensioner I am becoming, and suggested they whisper. “There are only 10 minutes left, would you mind at least trying to whisper?” Granted, I was being sarcastic. Now, far from the shame and mortification I would have felt to be told to shut up at a ceremony like that, there was laughing, and a lot of stage whispering, about me. When did we lose our manners?

Aside from that 10-minute hiccup, the day was lovely. Sunny and bright, we took photographs outside and then retired to DIT for pieces of chicken and cocktail sausages, potato croquettes and cups of tea (not an alcoholic beverage to be seen!). We chatted a little with classmates, then Ciara left and I loitered a while before saying my goodbyes and heading home to do some work before going for dinner. It’s fair to say that it was a busy weekend, albeit satisfying. Success, no matter what the variety, is always satisfying.

Related posts:

1. The day I turned into a pervy old man
2. Alexa Chung before and after the FAME
3. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. . .