November 2010, after three years of hard work, perseverance and sacrifices, I walked across a stage in front of my fellow classmates and a couple of hundred strangers to shake an old man wearing a funny hat’s hand while another lady read out my name. That’s right, I graduated.
Months of hard preparation built up to the big day; deliberating over what to wear, deciding on the kitten high or towering platform, and lastly, the big one, whether to top for a tousled curl or poker-straight locks. University was definitely a fantastic journey and I loved every minute of it. From the drunken nights and hungover mornings, to the evenings spent holed up in the library and struggling to prop my eyelids up in lectures. I certainly miss the days when all my brain had to contend with was what to wear for that night on the tiles, and whether to have beans or tuna on my jacket potato. University taught me life lessons, gave me great experiences, lots of highs and a few lows, piled on the pressure and armed me with valuable tools to face the working world with.
A couple of weeks ago, Tom had his graduation. He made no secret of the fact that it was his second one and wasn’t modest about the fact that being in the limelight in front of hundreds was a walk in the park. Unfortunately there weren’t enough tickets for me to go into the actual ceremony, so after a few family snaps outside I had to buy myself a new skirt to cheer up following a goodbye at the doors.
I met back up with the Dickson clan after the festivities and actually found myself a tad emotional looking at Tom all grown up! All in all it was a brilliant day, and I was a very proud girlfriend. In two years we’ll be doing it all again when Tom finishes his Masters, after which he now informs me he might fancy doing a PhD, which could take 20 years, so it looks like I’ll be approximately 45 years old before I settle down!