Mootpoint

Yesterday, for the second and probably final time this year, I donned a tie. And then, for the second and possibly final time ever, an academic gown, and a hood of pink and silver. This was so I could look respectable enough to warrant being part of a parade through town (we took a different route to the last time I did it, probably due to threat of rain, and it was very cool to look back and see the parade snaking down Oxford terrace and through Victoria Park from the bridge of drunen walking fame), followed by a brief walk across the townhall stage to shake the hand of the University Chancellor and receive my official degree (all a blur – words were mumbled, smiles given, hand shaken, all on the big screen. I did manage to remember to put my trencher on before heading down the stairs though).

So, I now have a “Masters with Distinction in Political Science” to hang on my wall. Swee.

The ceremony itself is rather cool, with it’s medieval feel (the University mace, the shaft of which is made out of oak from a beam removed from Big Tom Tower at the College of Christ Church at Oxford University in 1953, originally out in the tower in 1680; the banners from the various faculties; the surreal, Phantom of the Opera-esque organ player; the fanfare as academics enter in their multitude of different coloured gowns…) which gives a certain sense of timelessness to the whole event – and a definite feeling of a link to the past. Unfortunately, this ancient feeling was somewhat shattered at the announcement of the first PhD in Cellular and Microbiology. They were getting away with it before then, and perhaps would have still if they’d used a term closer to the “Mysterys and Secrettes of Lyfe” or somesuch.

There was definitely a certain buzz about seeing some of my original tutorial students (from three years past) graduate with BAs. I can only assume they were in Political Science and it was my expert tutelage right at the beginning of their university careers that spurred them on to attaining such high honours – and not think too hard about what me watching them graduate means about the length of time I’ve been at University for… And it was also great to see the likes of Chris Carter (from Burnside) graduate with his PhD (in Zoology) and Hamish MacIntyre (from Alice in Wonderland) graduate with a Masters (in Mechanical Engineering).

Oh, and did I mention one Mr Kyle Millar graduated with a BA? Anything’s possible, obviously!

The most surreal thing about the whole day though? Graduating more then nine months after submitting, and several months after finding out what the mark was! It did kind of suck the excitement out of the whole process somewhat. That being said, I’d definitely recommend it. You don’t get to do it that often, really. And now I can truly say that the Masters thesis…

…is done.

…the insipid, windless, bone chillingly cold days that Christchurch seems to be able to offer up on a regular basis. The kind that reminds me that the city is built on a swamp – I can almost see the marsh gas rising between the buildings, while the sun feebly tries to burn off the hazy cloud cover. I especially hate them when they happen during what we tentatively call summer around here. I even more hate them when I get up and without thinking to check* put a t-shirt on (it is summer, after all). In short, brr.

Apart from the weather, things is good. Recent noteworthy events included Si and I embarking on a whirlwind tour of previously unvisited cafes and bars in Wellington (no way did we have a trip as exciting as Russel Brown’s. Did I mention he seems to be *the* man about town?), going to the Finn brother’s concert (which rocked. A lot. They even played Stuff ‘n Nonsense.), the return of Dan to the fold (the first of many in the next few weeks), and Ben’s birthday party (at which he fell asleep). There’s also been a bit of World of Warcraft playing. Mmm, worldy.

And I’m now seeing the lovely Mel. Which is grand.

So, life is good, and I think I know what I want to be when I grow up now. But I’m not saying, cos it’s a feeling that never seems to last.

*Anyone else have the problem whereby you start listening to the weather report on the radio in the morning, and inevitably hear up to, say, Westport, only to have your attention drift until you realise you’re now listening to Dunedin’s report, and so rise none the wiser about what the day might hold? (looking out the window isn’t as useful as you might think at 7 in the morning…)

Of course, you can’t answer that because I haven’t enabled comments yet. The ultimate in rhetorical questioning.