Retirement Business is done and dusted, my placement got me a work offer and I’m not (quite) as scared of phones as I used to be. I think I might be a journalist. Blimey. Now all we have to do is treat graduation tomorrow like a wedding and pace ourselves booze-wise so we make it to the reunion with hair, clothes and social skills intact. Hang on a minute now. Do we really graduate tomorrow? Seems like only five minutes since Charlotte and I bagsied our desks in the corner and crossed our fingers we’d get on. Nine weeks of mutual bullying, hi-fiving and geekery later, I can’t imagine walking past her in the street and not going straight in for a friendly punch. Same goes for the other nine scamps. I’ll miss Charlie’s braces, Miranda’s scotch-egg habit and Ed spitting impromptu lyrics about the contents of our pockets. And addressing me by my new ‘Lyndrizzle’ moniker, of course. Life will never be quite the same again.