Since around 1:30 yesterday afternoon, I am de zeer geleerde heer Dr de Jager.

Difficult to imagine, isn’t it?

The invigilation was relatively gentle (my committee were kind), and my mother startled all the straight-laced Dutch folks by bursting out in Maori as the diploma was handed over, something ringing and powerful that left tears in my eyes. (The main emotional tone of the Dutch ceremony is nervousness, counterbalanced with a bit of pomposity.1 Some heartfelt emotion to cut through it was very welcome indeed.) My supervisor gave a laudatio both honest and kind (impressive feat, actually), which also warmed my heart.

We arranged a joint defence with my dear friend, colleague, and yoga teacher Michael Franke (who delivered a stunning performance in the inquisition, and who is now of course Dr Franke). After the defences we took our respective committees and families out to lunch; with twenty people the restaurant had to separate us into two tables and by some curious alchemy we ended up with a “committee table” and a “family table”. There was some complaint that the committee were insufficiently drunken when we left, but they will have to take responsibility for that themselves.

During the meal I felt a tickling on the back of my neck… scratched and scrabbled… and turned up the price tag of the swanky shirt bought for the occasion. Rather glad it wasn’t dangling out the back of my jacket throughout the proceedings!

Many thanks to everyone who came out on the day, and also to all those who have sent congratulations. (I am constitutionally opposed to all things Facebookish, but a solid wall of friendly wishes does warm the cockles of one’s heart.) Several people took photos, I’ll try to get them online in the coming week.

And most importantly: there is still the party! Friday this week, starting at 20.00, in Cafe ‘t Geveltje on the Bloemgracht. There will be some live Greek music and some recorded something-else (danceable, we hope), and the plan is to rock it out until they kick us out.

Notes:

  1. I’m fond of the rolling Dutch phrases and glad I chose them rather then the slightly insipid English equivalents. But nobody could call them personal. [↪]