Recognition - at last!

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I received some good news today: it seems I obtained a Masters Degree with First Class Honours from the University of Sheffield way back in 1995. This is exciting because, to the best of my knowledge I got no such thing. I passed but the flying colours were very much left folded up in the drawer - the student life being rather too much fun for any proper study on my part. [If my father reads this, I worked bloody hard, scarcely ever seeing the inside of a pub!]

More likely is that the good people of the university, when asked to confirm details of qualifications by ancient alumni such as I now am - charging them a crisp £20 for the privilege - don't actually look at the records, instead no doubt pulling up a proforma, giving it the once over and then sending it out largely unread.

Apparently, I 'passed all the necessary examinations' [I took none]. The Degree was conferred 'In Absentia' - a surprising revelation as I really enjoyed the graduation ceremony. To find out after all these years that I have been living a lie is frankly shocking.

What else is not true? Is my name really Andy? Was I, as I have always suspected, destined to be with Kylie, living a life of pampered, jet-setting luxury as long as I remained at her beck and call? Could I in fact be a famous nineteenth century female novelist rather too immersed in the plot of her latest potboiler for the gentrified middle-class ladies of her era?

I can be sure of nothing any more.

Thanks, The University of Sheffield, for shattering the world I have come to know. (But hey, thanks for the upgrade!)

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