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Bath University, 1980. Clad in a long, black gown, I walked to the front of the building to receive my degree. A bachelor of science in mathematics and computing.
I’d worked hard for my award. Four years at college, and many, many years before that at school. The degree had not come easily, and it was with a great sense of achievement that I received that piece of paper.
Oddly, though, my strongest memory of that day comes later. Still clad in the black gown, I walked into the city to buy lunch. A group of us, easily spotted, marked out as graduates, heading into a pizza restaurant. Easily identified. What a moment of pride!
Years on, I ask if myself what I wear now identifies me. Now, I’m clothed in a robe of righteousness. Not a robe for which I worked, but a free gift. Bought at a price, but given freely to me.
Question is, as I walk down my city street, am I wearing it in a way that identifies me, that marks me out as the daughter of the King?
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