My baby graduated from her masters degree...Who'd have known it...She's a Master of Arts in Gothic Culture, Subculture and Counterculture, specialising in literature...
That cheeky little golden haired girl that used to ask for just one more bedtime story, again and again until I'd read so many that we'd both fall to sleep...The growing bump that I'd do the same to then feel the acknowledging internal kick; the stroke of a butterflies wing ...The one about whom the wise old lady in the library told me I was doing the best thing ever when she spotted us piling up her pushchair with heaps of books...She knew...
...and at the graduation supper in the gothic splendour of those beautiful rooms on Strawberry Hill with smooth jazz playing, when others excitedly spotted the one they'd named 'the girl with the boots'...The Doc Martens, one laced with purple, the other leopard print, the faux leopard fur and Bill Murray's face on her bag...We toasted with her boyfriend and patted her back and ours too, full of pride for our hardworking clever (and stylish) girl...We really knew too...
