Or heightism. Whichever. Or divestiture, as I have been stripped of my mace-bearing duties and will now join the great unwashed in other less lordly duties

This is in no way the fault of the lovely Degree Congregation team, though – it is merely the result of looking like I was playing dressing-up with my mother’s wardrobe when trying on the mace-bearing gown.

I bet John (Burrows) was trying not to laugh when he commented that the gown was ‘just about clearing’ the floor (despite 3-inch heels).

There is an interesting outcome to all this, though – apparently my lack of vertical prowess has prompted the DGC team to order in a mace-bearer’s gown for small people! So all of you who are vertically challenged out there and have had dreams of protecting the Chancellor and his posse can thank me for ensuring that you now have a shot at bearing the mace without risking the possibility of falling flat on your face, having tripped on the hem of your mace-bearer’s gown.

I think it’s a little too hot in here.

I’ve been asked to be the mace bearer at two of this summer’s Degree Congregation ceremonies next week. Except I’ve just tried on the gown and it’s handy that I’m wearing 3-inch heels today because otherwise 3 inches of the gown would have been dragging along the floor.

So now Wippell & Co will have to do a rush-job on tacking up the gown for the two morning ceremonies I’m mace-bearing at. It’s also handy that the mace bearer for the afternoon ceremonies on the same days is nearly two heads taller than me.

Eeh.

Yesterday at the ticket payment station I tried to insert our car parking ticket into the slot meant for notes.

Me: blush
Him: Sorry, she’s from the country.