My final class was dealt with last night. It was a tough gig. I gave them £50 each to spend on auction items (including my yellow shoes) and ... oh I can't be bothered writing it all down. It's your own fault for not being there.
The 9 of us staying in the Residencia went out to celebrate. We had Chinese and then Japanese tapas - a nice procession of noodles, rice, chicken, salmon, eel, and something else from the sea whose origin was indeterminate but who nature had rather cruelly decided to make delicious. Then we went to a French bar and rather disappointingly had a plate of nuts - but you've got to admire the French for not joining in haven't you?. I did get talking to a Frenchman who'd just spent a year in Liverpool and I also had my first glug of pastis, a French pernod. We finished the night in a reggae bar where Dylan had had his finger bitten last week. We spent a cheery half hour swilling down lager and peeling off the slices of cold meat that had been laid out on the bar. I dread to think.
Frankly, my stomach isn't amused this morning. Nor is my head.
We have two days now of not very much. I'll probably start packing today. It would be nice if we could do that Officer and a Gentleman thing tomorrow and throw our hats into the air when we graduate.
We don't have any hats though.