Waxing lyrical in an ebullient mood

I note with dismay that it has been the better part of a whole month since I updated this journal of my comings and goings, my ups and downs. So I suppose it may be of interest that I bring it up to date, for there is much to discuss and get off of my chest.

In my last post, or one of them, I enthusiastically stated that 'either way, in a few weeks I'll be working', or at least, words to that effect. I am very sorry to report that this is not the case. The Birmingham Council job I heard within a week that I had been unsuccessful, in all likelihood meaning that someone more suited to their tastes and requirements had been interviewed. That, or the post was filled internally. The market research job, it appears, will now not be going ahead.

So there, my friends, is the despondant and despairing constituent of this communiqué. And now we have dealt with it, I say, onward, to pastures new.

You may be wondering why on earth I titled this essay (and mark, it shall be an essay), 'Waxing lyrical in an ebullient mood'. Certainly thus far has been little more than heartache and misery, and that is hardly material for ebullience. But, now I must describe for you, reader, the principal determinent of why this text is titled so.

I am referring, of course, to my Graduation.

Yes, finally I have graduated with an honours degree in architecture from the University of Lincoln. The first member of my family to go to University, the first member to gain a degree, the first member to have letters after his name. These actualities offset somewhat the bitterness I feel that I achieved only a 2:2 rather than the 2:1 I was hoping for.

I shall not bore you with the more mundane matters of the affair, but suffice is to say that I and my family had an abhorrent and atrocious journey into Lincoln by virtue of Newark being congested almost to the point of a complete and irrevocable impasse.

I shall also submit that a Graduation ceremony is by far the most insipid undertaking that a student ever undergoes, whilst at the same time being a most worthy cause of celebration. This may seem a contradiction I know, but let me just clarify by saying that the point at which one goes before the Academics and noted dignitaries, has ones name and chosen subject read out before the crowd and bows to the Pro Chancellor of the University is the most exhilerating experience. It is having to sit through the rest of the ceremony for anything up to an hour and a half whilst everybody else has their 15 seconds of relative fame that gets tedious after a very short while. Even more so if, like myself, you are seated front row centre and under the continuous and unrelenting, unremitting gaze of the greater part of the Academic staff of the University, the Mayor of the City, highly placed members of the military and the few whom have been singled out for honourary degrees, doctorates and fellowships of the University.

Allow me now to conclude this disquisition by alluring, once more, to the very vaugest hint of a job in the architectural field for which I have applied this morning. It may well prove to be the article that defintively swings me around and out of this most woebegone of situations in which I currently find myself mired.