
Well picking up my results was a HIDEOUS process, almost had me crying, I got shat on by a bird, but.
But but and but.
I have passed.
I have a degree.
More details in a bit when it's sunk in. :)
ETA:
Hokay. A little more info. The results were supposed to come out at 5 but they didn't. This is my fault. Or rather, this is the fault of the university, but it was my personal results that were at the bottom of the screw up, and the reason for the delay.
So half past six came, and no results. And I was standing by the noticeboard when my tutor came up and asked to have a word with me in her office. Not a good feeling, thank you. She said, essentially, that they only had a record of my having done 11 modules, when I had in fact done 12. I informed her I'd done 12, she nodded and zoomed off.
I stood outside thinking ohfuckohfuck and trying not to cry. Which was bad.
Eventually, she came back and pulled me into her office again, to tell me that they were trying to get hold of the man (affectionately known as 'the Fucker', lovely rhyming surname and well deserving of the nickname) who had taken the module. Apparently it wouldn't affect my degree-grade (congratulations, you have a degree, she said. Almost offhand. Like that wasn't the important bit) but it would mean that my marks on the board would be wrong numerically.
EVENTUALLY the marks got put up on the board. I was down in the canteen at that point, and my tutor came down and breathed wine fumes all over me and told me to go upstairs and find the man who could tell me the degree I got, since mine wouldn't be on the board. So I did - many more apologies, and I got a 2:2.
Yeah. They finally got me into a tutu.
Fuckin' milliways.
I guess this means I'm a proper grown up, huh?