6 7 22 Lessons Always be kind to the following: bus drivers, crows and the bees. Get a library card and register with a dentist. Travel when you can, even if it’s just down the street. Never say no to being close to the sea. Stay in touch with the friends you made here – especially when postcodes separate you. If you keep a fork in your bag you’re always prepared for the possibility of cake. Forgive but don’t forget. Read books. Wear shoes you can dance in, whatever that may be for you. Make mistakes twice, just to make sure. Call your parents, for they worry about you. Or call a friend – for no reason other than you can. Keep this city in your pocket, unfold it when you need to. Use it like a lighthouse. Use it like a seatbelt. Don’t rush to decide who you are now – uncertainty can be its own kind of compass. It will spit you out shaken but whole. Be an excellent contradiction. Take one last time to go to whatever nightclub you escaped to. Take one last walk through the Meadows in summertime. Take one last trip to whatever café served you home when you couldn’t be there. Take a photograph of today and write “I did this” on the back so you’ll always remember what you made of these years. Remember that ceremonies finish and all Graduation applause dies, but you can carry the echo. Let it smoulder in you. Day Today is just the preamble. Catherine Wilson Garry Poet and Writer 2017 Philosophy and English Literature