Paternoster panic and a dreary dance (Rousse)

After scaring myself silly on the library’s open paternoster podium (at the instigation of LM), I followed a student in highland dress to the graduation ball.

The latter was a grave disappointment. In a tiny meeting room at the back of the library around a dozen international students in everyday dress listened to a scruffy old man discuss the merits of the Scottish bagpipes. This was hardly the wild ceilidh celebration of the end of the academic year that I anticipated.

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