The Graduate
Waiting for my 18-year-old friend to arrive and witness his rite of passage from school to university life, I found myself morphing into a 54-year-old 'fresher' checking back into college. Sitting on a bench in the open courtyard I couldn't stop smiling. Music thumped through an amplifier, students bounced about and greeted new arrivals with glee. There was plenty of love drifting about in the dry Canberra air. With the emergence from my chrysalis almost complete, Oscar appeared, a second-year senior resident with one arm in a sling and the other cradling a glass of water. He'd obviously been keeping a watchful eye on Dustin Dean looking for Mrs Robinson. Handing me the refreshment, I thanked him and enquired about his injury. To which this strapping blond surfy type from the south coast mentioned rugby as the cause. He was a smooth talker and a rugby player – both viewed as majors at university. My friend soon arrived with his father and appeared visibl...