Wednesday, July 15, 2009


Just back from the Ruritarian invented tradition of graduation in the City Hall; a procession straight out of Lord of the Rings, with everyone telling me that I either look like Henry the Eighth or a Beefeater in my garish robes, followed by wine and food with students and colleagues. It was my last one, a poignant moment. Our degrees were presented together with the Business School's. Large numbers of proud families of overseas students were taking films and pictures and I realised that I would now figure in the photograph collection and home movies of several African families.

As I processed off the stage to solemn organ music I spotted that one of the tribulations of being a man of a certain shape was happening. My trousers were slowly slipping down. How to hold them up in fancy dress is a big problem. Nothing for it, but to thrust the robes to one side and yank the buggers up. Now that's one for the family album.


Anonymous said...


mikeovswinton, going boldly said...

Romulan cloaking device.