|The Picasso version of matriculation|
Carenza had her matriculation ceremony!
Shouldn’t I have been there? After all, it was an official rite of passage in my daughter’s young life. Apparently not. The word is that she is an adult now. Parents will be allowed back in a few years’ time for the graduation ceremony, once there is a decent level of separation and they can be trusted not to lick their hankies in order to clean their offspring’s face.
Carenza was obviously able to picture me at home wearing my twin-set and pearls; my court shoes and matching handbag and hat gleaming as I stood by the front door waiting eagerly for my invitation to plop onto the door mat, so she sent us some pictures as compensation.
Perran also appeared all dressed up in the Bristol student newspaper, but didn’t send us the photos. But I found them anyway! Ha ha! (Manic laugh.)