The Graduate

Wednesday morning will see me getting dressed up for a different kind of occasion. My graduation ceremony takes place at Central Hall, Westminster just opposite the Abbey, and right near the Houses of Parliament.

I didn't actually have any idea of where Central Hall was until yesterday when Clarke and I happened to walk past it after walking back from Horse Guards Parade where we and a few thousand others watched the Sultan's Elephant outdoor art performance. The elephant was actually the sideshow to our real mission that day, trying to locate some Krispy Kreme donuts in the nearby Tesco Metro. They were completely sold out. Clarke was gutted, and I was relieved as I wasn't sure I would have been able to stop myself from tearing them from her hands to stuff down my own throat.

The hall is around ten minutes from my house so I may even cycle down in my robes on my bike. Yes, I already have a set of robes which I never quite managed to return after the last ceremony. Oops. And I have my sister's mortar board. How funny would that be? I'd look like something out of a Joyce Grenfell movie, flying down Pall Mall on my old school Raleigh racer in my black robes. Except I don't think there were ever any darkies in Joyce Grenfells movies. They were fun though.

I wasn't going to attend the ceremony, but was kind of persuaded it would be good for Clarke to see her mummy and maybe help inspire her to similar heights educationally. Mama ain't raising no fool. You know all that positive role model stuff.
Unfortunately I found out after I had paid for the tickets (yes paid) that Clarke has exams for the next two weeks, and won't be able to come. Bollocks. So kind of feels pointless me going now. She can look at the pictures I suppose.

It always puzzles me when people say Black people don't have any role models. When I was growing up, yes there wasn't loads of black people on TV, and when you did see someone black you would always phone a friend to say "there's a black person in an advert on ITV", but I remember No Problem, Empire Road, Babylon, Trevor McDonald, Love Thy Neighbour, Rising Damp, Lenny Henry, Zeinab Badawi, and Moira Stuart. And then why do your role models have to be black? I've always wanted to be a journalist, since I was in school. I didn't know any black journalists, but I was fascinated with television news, so looked to Trevor McDonald, Anna Ford, Zeinab Badawi (I remember seeing her driving a Maserati in the 90s, LL Cool J had rapped about them). But my role models came from all races, Depeche Mode, David Bowie, Riyuichi Sakamoto, Gary Numan, Kraftwerk, Roxanne Shante, Jeffery Daniels, Michael Jackson, The Supremes, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, The Bee Gees, Salt and Pepa, Public Enemy and many others.

My best friend Shazby was a role model because she was the perfect student (when she wasn't trying to beat me up in French or slamming a locker door into my head) I sometimes wished I could be, but my class-clown tendencies wouldn't allow me to. My natural competitiveness meant I would try to equal or better her grades, but as I tell my daughter Clarke now, she put in the hours outside of school but by my teen years I was preoccupied with music, the youth club, boys, clubs, music and boys. Now my daughter wants to be a barrister like her Godmother, Shazby. Well at least she doesn't have to look too far for her role models.

N.B: The pic is of Joyce Grenfell, one of Britain's finest comedic actresses.