View downstream from Bridge Street

A couple of weeks ago, Milly graduated from Lincoln University. Of all my daughters, she was the one that showed the least interest in school. She was the only one who wasn't busting to get out of primary school and, I think it's fair to say, saw education as a bit of a chore.

And that was fine. Whilst I'm not going to wade into the nature versus nurture argument here, from my direct experience, I reckon it's safe to say that we're all born differently. So while Milly was fiery and funny, and fiercely loyal to her friends, if education wasn't her thing, so what? My only concern was that she might miss out on some opportunities in future.

In the sixth form, she started to take more of an interest in school, not least because she was doing subjects she wanted to do and, importantly for a social creature like Milly, she liked her teachers. And they liked her, too, and there were a couple of review evenings where they gently lamented "If only she'd started working like this sooner."

Unexpectedly, Milly was awarded an unconditional place at Salford Uni - Hooray! - but decided to take a gap year. Oh. It was OK, though, the university would hold the place whilst Milly spent six months in Whistler, Canada. She liked that so much, she took another gap year in New Zealand, thus losing the place in Salford. *deep breath*

But on getting back, she landed the place at Lincoln to read journalism, which she threw herself into, earning herself a first!

Tonight the Minx and I took Milly out for a celebratory dinner at Cottonopolis, which was fantastic. I walked across to the Northern Quarter after college, crossing the river at Bridge Street, where I took this picture. I thought the shot rang a bell: I took an almost identical photo at the start of June. (I prefer this one, though.)