... for I am a GRADUATE!
I robed up, clumped up a ramp, was whacked on the head with a bunnet made from John Knox's britches and clapped for others. A lot.
I found the whole experience to be rather stressful actually. Minute directions throughout Edinburgh, a dash for robes, being made to sit through photos, skipping lunch, dealing with the partners of my parents, dashing up and down to New College for returning my robes... I didn't get a chance to properly reflect. All that was going through my head was - I can't be late - and a rather whingy little graduand-zilla protesting that it was MY day, and that my parent's partners shouldn't be getting in the way. I was annoyed at them hanging around, at them being places they had no places to be, at being an inconvenience meaning that I couldn't see my parents... How selfish of me.
I also felt rather alone after the rushing was over. Everyone else was celebrating with their parents and I was left to my own devices. Given my increasing sense of, well I suppose you could call it mourning, I was rather upset. The best four years of my life are over, numerous very good friends of mine are gone and I'm not certain about my future. Reconvening with friends for a few drinks afterwards kind of cleared away my maudlin mood - the future is full of opportunities to make new friends and may be even better.
But still, I had to have a wee cry when my supervisor e-mailed his dissertationists/'Islamicists' to congratulate us and tell us that "you're all good judges in your own hearts as to how much you've progressed and developed as researchers and thinkers."
Aww.
For your delight and delectation - the best photo of me I've found. Embrace the slightly bewildered smile, the awkward pose and the ridiculous manner in which I'm clutching the degree tube . What a tube I am.