Epilogue - Graduation & Celebrations

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And so it comes down to this. After fours years of study, countless exams, mountains of coursework and a few scary presentations, my time at Sheffield University as an undergraduate finally draws to a close. If I'm making it seem like University was all work and no play, then let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. Interspersed with all this hard work there was of course a lot of getting drunk, crash team racing and watching Neighbours whilst having tea and biscuits. I think those are the things that I'll remember the most. So what better why to say goodbye to life at University than by having a big celebration with all my course mates. Turns out they have one of these for every student and it's called graduation.

Graduation day started with the usual palaver that accompanies any occasion in my house. Me and my dad getting ready in a calm organised manner while my mum had a big stress that we weren’t getting ready fast enough, which made us slow down, which got her even more stressed and so the vicious circle continued. Everything turned out ok in the end though (as usual) and we set of, in our finery, for Sheffield. For the past something or other weeks in England it hasn't rained and it just so happened that today was to be the day that the weather was to finally turn. However, instead of lashing it down like it was supposed to, we were treated to some nice muggy, sticky hot weather. I mean I like it warm, but there's warm and there's warm.

Once we got to Sheffield, first thing I did was go collect my cap and gown. The gown fit fine, but positioning the hood on it correctly was perhaps more awkward than making love to a rhinoceros that doesn't love you anymore (sorry, I nicked that joke from Family Guy). Next came the cap or mortarboard as it's known in the trade. The first one the woman tried to send me off with was so small that it just perched on top of my head. I looked like pin head Bully when Jonny makes him wear his cap on the smallest setting. I insisted that she bring me another in the next size up. Perhaps it was out of spite then that the next hat she brought over, which was only an eighth of an inch bigger than the last one, was in fact so large that it would slide about crazily like me trying to ski, every time I moved my head slightly. Maybe I've just got one of those awkward shaped heads.

After the robing it was time for my graduation photo. I got my hood and cap rearranged by some guy who looked like his previous job had been working on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Then you have to hold this mock certificate and they take a couple of snaps of you. I gave them my bestest smile. When the photos come back in a few weeks, I'll probably find out that I was squinting or something so that should be fun. Not content with just the official photo, I took a few shots myself of me and my fellow course mates. I managed to meet up with Marek and Dave but sadly there was still no sign of Graeme (Mayhem). We didn't have long to catch up though before we had to file into the Octagon as the ceremony was about to begin.

If you've never been to a graduation ceremony before then let me explain to you how it works. First of all, everyone is wearing these ridiculous capes and gowns so that it looks like you've gone back to Tudor times. I half expected Henry the VIII himself to come striding through the door, complete with his magnificent ruff, and start bellowing "Off with his head!" (Did Henry the VIII ever say this? I don't know. Maybe you could help me out with this one Mike. You do after all love history with a passion). The ceremony began with all of the head University people parading round the room, carrying this golden sceptre of some sort. It was a bit weird. It also stuck me as weird that out of these twenty something people I recognised only one of them. Call me old fashioned, but I'd prefer to be presented with my degree by the guys who've been teaching me all these years and have subsequently turned the young, inexperienced first year that was me into the confident, successful engineer you see before you today. Anyway, we all had to stay sat down until the usher ushered us out to a queue just over by the stage. When it was your turn to go up, this guy would read out your name and you'd walk over to the chancellor (wearing a stunning gold robe) and he would say something like "I admit you, to the status of Master of Engineering with Honours". On the walk over to him, I had to keep my head cocked at a funny angle to keep my hat from sliding completely off my head altogether. Nightmare visions of me tripping over on stage and making a complete tit out of myself were constantly cycling through my head. Oh well, I could make £250 by sending in the video in to You've Been Framed - where's Beadle? Thankfully, the whole procedure passed without incident and I was now officially a graduate of Sheffield University. I felt kind of sorry for the guy reading out our names, since about 80% of the people on my course are oriental and there names are about as difficult to pronounce as it is to get the Cookemeister to tidy up after himself (I'm very keen on using the old metaphors today aren’t I). As the ceremony drew to a close we had to wait for the distinguished guests to leave and then file out in a fairly elaborate way, moving along our row, down the centre aisle, round the back of the room and out through the front door. Since my chair was right next to the door out, I didn't fancy this much. Waiting for my chance, I bided my time until a gap opened up in the queue of people filling past me. I thought "Yes, I'm having you" and quick as a flash, I leapt from my seat and was outside in the sunshine. Swish!

Next on the agenda was a phoebe buffet back at my department on Mappin Street. Here I got to introduce my parents to a load of the guys who taught me lectures as well as the guy who would be running my PhD. I then took the rents on a tour round the department. Highlights included, the semiconductor clean room, the room where we keep the lasers and my own personal favourite... the cafeteria. It was then time to say goodbye to my parents as they were heading home. I meanwhile would be spending the night in Sheffield. Me and the Electronics boys would have one final night out. It was going to be huge.

First things first I scampered back to my house to get changed. The living room looked like a bomb had hit it and then that bomb had exploded into a shower of empty pizza boxes, empty crisp packets and bundles of dirty clothes. Oh yes, the Cookemeister had really gone to town. The house was empty so the little Geordie was spared my terrible wrath for now. Just wait until he gets home though.

The night out I'd been expecting didn't exactly go as planned. The turn out was a little on the pitiful side but nevertheless those who did go out were determined to have a good time. In the spirit of trying out something new, I got a ticket for myself to the comedy club in bar one. It was to hosted by none other than that guy out of Phoenix Nights. You know, the fat one in the band Lesalanos. I got myself positioned right at the front so I could get some jibbing. Just think, I could be jibbed by a celebrity! Sure enough, Les was quick to start on the Holtby jibes. They ranged from the gayness of my Australia t-shirt to the fact that I came from Scunthorpe. Luckily, years of jibbing at the hands of Mike and Will had prepared me for this so it was water of a duck's back (yet another metaphor). The first act on was a gay Asian guy (you'd have been furious Smith). His whole act seemed to be based on the fact he was gay and Asian so it wasn't very funny. At one point, he made another jibe at my t-shirt and then offers me his hand to shake in apology. When I shook it he said "Sorry mate. Just checking your hand fits". Sick! The next act was much better. Can't remember his name but he looked a little like Rory Bremner. I also can't remember any of his jokes which sucks because I'm sure they were quite good.

I then hit the Fusion and Foundry in Sheffield Union. Tonight's event was Fuzz Club Vs Frouk so it was bound to be good. Unfortunately, I hit it a little too early and the club was virtually empty. I contented myself by playing on my old friend the quiz machine. Turns out they have a risk game! Would I be as awesome at it as I was at the real game, I wondered. Well, I did win £2 but on the down side I spent about a fiver. Stood at the bar, waiting to get served, I was tapped on the shoulder. Oh my god. It was only Geoff and Jim. Two of the guys who had lived on my corridor in first year. They were also joined by Ben and Indie and the gang of lads we affectionately referred to as "the stoners" was complete. Had a few drinkies with them and told them all about my adventures down under. I love how after going travelling, I'm suddenly about ten times more interesting. Other highlights of the night included a guy who looked like Soya from Lost, except I couldn't remember Soya's name so me and him spent about five minutes going up to people and asking what that bloke from Lost with the attitude was called.

When I got up the next morning, the first thing on the agenda was to surprise the Cookemeister and I did just that. Standing at the top of the stairs, I watched as his door flew open and I was once again face to face with the world's smallest Geordie. "Eeeeeehhhhhhh????" was all he could manage to utter with his hair stuck up in a comical pissed style. Oh it was good to see him again. I let him know just how much you have been jibbing him Mike and Will so he's not best pleased with you two. Not much has happened in the Cookemeister's world since I've been gone. Either that or he's not telling me. Just on the off chance, we gave G Waring a call. Amazingly, he'd just landed at Gatwick airport after flying back from Uganda. He'd be coming back to Sheffield later in the week so normality would shortly be resumed.

With the house in such a state I didn't feel like stopping around there much longer. Let Gaz whip the Cookemeister into shape when he gets back. I caught a ride with my cousin back to Scunthorpe. Might pop back to Sheffield sometime next week for Cock's birthday. It's nice to be home.

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