I HAVE GOT MY DEGREE!!!!!
Just a fabulous 2:2 drinker’s degree but I don’t care. I have my degree and from now until my final days nothing can take that away. Not brilliant but adequate. The most I have achieved in the past few years.
Going to get my results was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life. Crowds of us reluctantly stomped up the Humanities steps, heads down, various body parts crossed. There was no eye contact just mumbled greetings and fake smiles. When the dead man’s walk to the 2nd floor corridor finally ended we were faced with The Result’s Wall, thousands of random names followed by random numbers. People were anxiously pushing and shoving to get nearer whilst, every few seconds, the anxious atmosphere was punctured by a shout of “YES!!!!”, or a squeal, or an “Oh my god!”
I was there with Ben and we held hands as we both scanned the millions of names that seemed not to be in any order to purposely create confusion and incite panic.
I could not find my name….I actually thought that I had done so badly that my whole university existence had been wiped. I scanned every bloody sheet of paper with my temperature rising, my heart thumping, my palms sweating until, at near melting point, Ben yelled,
“2:2 we both got a 2:2. Excellent news!”
We bounced about like idiots stopping every now and then to hug, then more bouncing, then hugging etc. The relief was immense. The joy was ridiculous.
So, we made like two recipients of a fine Cardiff University drinker’s degree and took the only option that made sense. Entered the Tafarn and lived up to our brand new honour.
That is where we spent a merry couple of hours in full celebration mode, drinking Stella and singing along to retro Suede on a cloudy but warm lunchtime in the Welsh Capital. (Degree Celebration Phase 1).
On the way back to Borrowed Bedroom No.2, giddy with excitement and beer, I had the understandable, yet uncharacteristic, desire for champagne. I deserved this. I followed my heart into the nearest off licence, spent a stupid amount of money on a bottle and skipped back to the house. Within 30 minutes myself and Maisie had gleefully demolished the lot in the garden. She was so honestly, lovingly pleased for me. We giggled, we danced and we hugged. I cried posh champagne tears for about an hour over our beautiful friendship, my degree and the thought of facing the future. (Degree Celebration Phase 2).
Well, I probably should have sensibly called it a day after bawling over bubbly but, here I am all glammed up, vodka in hand preparing myself for a large one in town. Maisie has Jamiroquai blaring full blast in the living room, the taxi is booked and I have just about managed to apply my eyeliner in a straight line.
I keep on getting waves of euphoria every time I remember that I have got my degree. The amount of work I did was enough to ensure a huge, fat qualification. The emotional crap that has happened these last few months did not, I repeat, did NOT impact my success. In a few weeks I will wear an uncomfortable, unflattering suit and a stupid cloak and ‘Graduate’.
My degree, my passport to…….what?
There are two thoughts that I will not dwell tonight.
1. The rest of my life.
Tonight is not the night to plan,tonight is not the night to be miserable. Tonight is the night to dance.
Open your disco doors Cardiff we are on our way.