Graduation is the embodiment of those who subscribe to the "tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life" theory.

Graduation is the culmination of many months of angst, the fulcrum of so many sleepless nights.

The sun beat down as I stood on the lawn outside the University of East Anglia studio. Like author, whit and sage Stephen Fry I felt out of place - but for different reasons.

Fry was being honoured by the university with an honorary doctorate. I was receiving a Master of Arts degree in Professional Development from the school of education. I know I received the degree because it is on the wall in front of me.

In his acceptance speech the benign Fry was quick to point out that, unlike the great majority of students being honoured, he had undertaken no work for his degree.

I had feelings of a different kind. I accepted that I deserved the award as I had worked hard and undertaken a considerable amount of research in my particular field. My work had helped to change my writing style, the way I looked at certain areas of life. It had given me the confidence to stand up for myself in the knowledge that academically I could be a match for anyone.

But somehow I felt like a party pooper. I felt I was watching and listening in to somebody else's success.

The reason was quite simple. Many of the youngsters receiving degrees were on the threshold of goodness knows what - the world? successful careers? It was all a start for them. For me it was just a continuation.

As I stood fully robed - extremely hot and slightly dazed and confused - a thought kept going through my head. Better late than never, but I should have done this 23 years ago.

Then the degree could have acted as a platform for launching my life into goodness knows where, but at least somewhere. To me the ceremony was just a break in a hectic week of work and outside interests. I had taken a few hours out from a busy schedule to attend the ceremony and pick up my degree.

For me there were no accompanying missed night's sleep, ulcers brought on by worrying about the result. For ultimately the result didn't matter all that much. I was doing this for myself. Failure would have meant nothing other than disappointment and a feeling that I had let myself down.

My entire life, my entire career did not depend on this piece of paper. So there were very few emotions as I paced the stage to pick up my degree. No whooping, no hollering, no friends punching the air and cheering. Just the same muted applause that met so many that came before and so many who came after me.

So it didn't matter than? Well yes it bloody well did. I had proved to myself I could do it. I had stayed the course. I had earned the right to dress up as a penguin for a few short hours. I had earned the right to drip and sweat in a crowded hall lacking in air conditioning.