Commentary
I can vividly remember the afternoon of my university graduation ceremony, not least of all because I got lost on the way to pick up my academic robes.
I had hired them out from the University of Queensland (UQ)—for not an insignificant sum, I might add—and spent more than an hour desperately trekking across St Lucia in search of the rotten things.
Eventually, I found the pick-up point: a dank, underground carpark that was airless and steaming with body heat as hundreds of adolescent students milled around in queues. It was a concrete end—literally and figuratively—to my days as an undergraduate….