One of the greatest regrets of my life concerns my graduation from Birkbeck College, London University, back in 1969.
The surprising news that I had achieved an Upper Second BA Honours in German arrived with my birthday cards, which I was reading as I lay in bed with my wife. It was a Saturday. Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Upper Second, Happy Birthday.
It was a great feeling – a wonderful birthday present – because it exceeded my expectations. So what’s to regret? Well, being a shy and retiring type at the time, I wasn’t really interested in dressing up, speeches and people applauding. So I didn’t bother with the ceremony. After all, I had the paperwork.
What I didn’t realise until some time later was that my mother, a hard-working widow, would have loved to travel to the capital to see her eldest son formally awarded his degree. It meant nothing much to me, but it meant a lot to her. I wasn’t a great son.
This all came back to me last week, when my grandson received his degree (BSc, first class, in computer science) from Warwick University.
As you may know, Warwick University is in Coventry. Why wouldn’t it be? And as it happens, between the ages of 6 and 11 we lived in Coventry, just three or four miles down the road from the university which, being 20 years younger than me, wasn’t there at the time.
The campus at Warwick is pretty impressive, and the arts centre, where the degree ceremony was held, is a lovely building. I now live close to the University of East Anglia, which also has a memorable campus, but I have to say that Warwick, two years younger, probably has the edge.
The ceremony was scheduled for 11am; so we travelled down (or up, or across) the previous day, staying at my favourite Coventry hotel, The Old Mill at Baginton. With us we had our only son, father of the graduate, who now lives in Canada. So quite a trip for him.
Also present were the sister and mother of the graduate, and the grandparents – all four of whom felt we had done pretty well to have survived long enough to attend, and one of whom discharged herself from hospital in order to be there. It was a sunny day to remember. It included a tour of the campus and a meal in the Dirty Duck. Oh, and pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.
I suppose one reason I showed so little interest in my own graduation was that I had not gone direct from school to university, as is the norm. I had moved to London on my own to work, and then attended evening classes four evenings a week for two years at Birkbeck, followed by a full-time year to complete the course.
It was a normal internal degree, but it didn’t have the normal interaction and camaraderie that you get from campus life and joining in a variety of clubs and activities. Perhaps that’s why I wasn’t drawn into the final ceremony. Who knows? It was a long time ago. Sorry, Mum. You would have liked it.
I should perhaps mention that in the middle of my degree course I got married. There was a wedding. My mother came to that. I think she enjoyed it. So did I.