Graduation in Albion

And so, the sister graduated today. Amidst a week of lousy weather in Britain, the sun decided to shine today. My mum said she prayed for good weather and although it felt wrong to feel smug about it, or take credit for it- “Ah! The power of a mother’s prayers!” said the mum – I can’t help that Hani was exceptionally fortunate after yesterday’s torrential weather.

I love graduations. I loved my own graduation from Warwick, and even though my brother’s graduation was overall a tacky affair (hmph, Americans!), I loved it for the very inspiring speaker they had. And my brother graduated in Savannah, Georgia, a very old but very beautiful American town complete with its famed Southern charm, so though the ceremony was tacky, the setting was charming and beautiful.

I’m a rather old-fashioned sort of girl. I love pomp and circumstance, and all the tradition and razzle dazzle. At the risk of sounding like some sort of graduation review, certainly Hani’s graduation was probably the best of all.

St. Andrews had all the pomp and tradition I imagined an ancient university should have but none of the arrogance or condescension of Oxbridge. The church bells rang to celebrate the graduates and every aspect of the ceremony was rich with tradition. Hell, Hani was bonked on the head with a cap that was 300 years old, and they carried maces well over 500 years old.

The whole experience of coming back to the UK, walking about in town and then entering university halls made me miss this place terribly. I’ve mad ideas now, of coming back and doing a masters, living here and taking long walks along the countryside for inspiration.

Even if it means superbly freezing weather by this poor Malaysian’s standards.

Hani was proud. We’ve turned properly Scottish now – the moment there’s a hint of the sun, we run out to enjoy it despite it being freezing. And there are so many things I do want to enjoy here. From incredibly fresh food and vegetables, beautiful old buildings and heck, cars that don’t run me over at zebra crossings. I love walking instead of taking the car, people talking to you and telling their entire life stories over the counter.

Here’s to another nth number of days here. I dread to go home.


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