I remember once shouting at my sister in our parents’ garden. I’d invented some new kind of death trap, like a ride on a sledge down an inclined piece of wood, and I was furious that she didn’t want to take it for a spin. Thus begun our teenage years of leaving each other to our own devices, with the occasional bicker thrown in for good measure.
Nearly twenty years later, we were at the University of Sheffield. Eleanor had just been robed for her graduation, and seeing her appear in bright red amongst a sea of black and dark green was an emotional moment for all of us. This wasn’t just any graduation: my sister was becoming Doctor Briggs!
I’d to skip the ceremony due to capacity restrictions, but I had a lovely time in Sheffield’s Student Union with Eleanor’s partner and friends. We played some pool, had a round of darts, and watched the live stream of the ceremony on the TV above our table. It was a great chance to put faces to the names of people Eleanor had spoken about for years, and a relief to skip the duller parts of the proceedings until the category I was interested came up: doctor of philosophy.
With the formalities over, it was time to celebrate. We had some drinks, saw the laboratory where Eleanor worked for the past few years, and then walked into the centre of Sheffield for some food. It was a long day that had left my dad and me wilting, but that was nothing that a tactical nap across the benches of a secluded booth couldn’t fix…
As you can imagine, I’m insanely proud of my sister. I can still recall the day she announced she wanted to study biology, but none of us could ever imagine that she’d walk out with a PhD in hand all these years later. I also never thought that, from arguing over nonsense, the two of us would come to get along so well, but I now hold very dearly our close relationship and the ease with which we can chat about anything.
Congratulations, Bel.
