I spent many months trying to persuade my parents not to bother with my graduation ceremony (Warwick 1981) but to no avail. I argued that it was a totally artificial pretend tradition based on how things are done at other establishments which have been around for a little bit longer, and that recently established universities should think of something else which actually reflects themselves. Suggesting that they could always leave me at home didn't go down well.
I developed a migraine during the ceremony and at the end rushed out and was first to the "get snapped and dump your robes" room. Thinking I'd done brilliantly, I found myself in fearful trouble with my irate parents, as my keen photographer dad hadn't yet taken his photographs. It has to be said that Coventry Cathedral provides a good backdrop. However, peace broke out when they realised just how unwell I was and that I might well have collapsed if I'd had to queue for a long time.
It may sound like a day I could have done without, but it was redeemed by one glorious moment. In the programme, the victims were all grouped into their degree type; honorary degrees first (the honour being the university's as they'd deigned to turn up), then higher degrees, followed by batchelor of science with honours, batchelor of science without honours, batchelor of arts with honours, and finally batchelor of arts without honours. All receiving degress were listed, but only those present had their names called, and each group was completed before the next started filing up to the front. Now the final group, batchelor of arts without honours, only had a few dozen names, and, glory be, only one of them had turned up. That person walked to the front and back completely alone to tumultuous applause, cheering and hats being thrown in the air.
