The ceremony marked the ascension from graduand to graduate of my girlfriend. She worked very hard to get there, and it was a suitable way to gain closure on her student life. It was also a turgid ceremony with lots of names and dutiful applause. Before it started, I asked the woman next to me who she was there for. Later on she returned the compliment by asking me whether I had managed to spot my daughter among the graduates. Daughter! I'm only 32, and although I was wearing a suit and looking reasonably mature, surely I don't look old enough to have sired even a 21 year old, though my girlfriend is older than that. I suppose that some folks in council estates somewhere may give life at the younger ages, as indeed do some wretched toffs, who undoubtedly do a better job of hiding their shame, but this was a fairly middle class ceremony at a self-important uni. I am not someone's dad!
Later on I changed into younger looking clothes. Then I felt old and knackered when I did more of the house moving which is nearly finished. Doing it in one big go would have been easier.