Durham

Well, it’s been a few weeks since the last post, the white coats have done their best but the mystery of my condition remains. I guess the best remedy for the unknown is to keep busy, fight the temptation to navel-gaze and trust in divine providence.

The last couple of weeks have been hectic with trips to Durham to collect elder student son at the end of his four-year modern languages programme at the university. He seems to have inherited the family gene that prevents us throwing things away; the car was groaning under the load as we headed south.

 

Then, last weekend it was the apt reward for his study efforts; the graduation ceremony took place in the spectacular eleventh-century Durham Cathedral.

Outside the Cathedral a massive white marquee was pitched on the lawns (close to where archaeologist discovered a medieval mass grave about six months ago).

 

Inside were bars, coffee stalls, merchandising, exhibitions and the photography studios where students and their proud parents were fussed over by about ten teams of photographers.

 

Next to the cathedral is Durham Castle, another building that is about one thousand years old, home to the Prince-Bishops of Durham. Its grand hall was used to process the students, to ready them for the formal procession into the cathedral.

We parents and guests queued patiently outside, sheltering under umbrellas for up to an hour before we were allowed into the cathedral. Inside, among the massive stone piers and soaring arches were large LCD screens, video photographers perched on commanding heights.   

Alas, photography was banned in the cathedral, apologetic but determined marshals pounced on anyone who produced a camera. I did, sort of accidentally, take my camera out and attempt a photograph...I shouldn’t have bothered.

Then, the procession entered, mace and sword bearers followed by academics in their colourful gowns and, bringing up the rear, the Chancellor, opera-star Sir Thomas Allen. After them came the students, hundreds of them, most in black gowns trimmed with white fur, some with purple or silk trimmings and hoods. Sprinkled among them, like peacocks among a flock of ducks, were the candidates for the Doctor of Philosophy degree, resplendent in their scarlet gowns, trimmed with purple silk.  

There followed a couple of hours of speeches and the traditional name-calling as each student was greeted by the Chancellor, congratulated and then moved on.

Afterwards, crowds milled outside, and when the rain arrived, the students used their hoods to protect themselves from the elements.

  

For us, an early dinner with newly-minted graduate son, followed by – for him - a riotous night’s celebration in the city’s many nightclubs.