Yesterday we went to Bee’s graduation.
Here we are see:
(Bee has a mini can of gin and tonic, which she made me stop and buy her on the way.)
I’m not going to lie to you, as ceremonies go, it was pretty boring. I love Bee and everything, but I wasn’t that fussed about the 469 other people who took turns to go up onto the stage and be given a fake scroll. I amused myself through Applied Sciences by sending Bee sneaky messages under the programme. Her phone was in my bag, but I thought she might like to read them afterwards.
It was worth it, as apparently they were the best bit.
Best part of graduation was the commentary. pic.twitter.com/ne4iAyGiQo
— Beeface 🍂 (@teachezbee) November 8, 2016
Although the ceremony was fairly dull, I wanted to write this post for two reasons. Partly, Bee has been on at me lately to write something about her.
‘What do you want me to write?’ I asked her.
‘I don’t know, anecdotes or cute stories or something.’
Also though, I wanted Bee (and everyone else) to know that even though I could probably have got by without the whole ‘and now the prize for outstanding achievement in applied baking technologies’ thing, that it doesn’t actually matter. I don’t need a ceremony to remind me how clever she is you see, or to make me feel proud, because I already am. I’ve always been proud.
I was proud when she said she wanted to go to university in London. I was proud when she went, and didn’t run home again even though she was lonely and it was a bit scary and she gets anxious about stuff. I’m proud that she stayed there for three years, working hard, managing panic attacks on her own, and getting on with things. I’m proud that she came home in the holidays to work nearby for extra money and experience. I’m proud that she supported herself working weekends in a call centre. I’m proud that she started her own blog and writes really funny, thoughtful posts.
And I’m proud that she was drinking a gin and tonic before 11am.
Good work Bee.