It was a case of here, there and nowhere to be seen as far as Paul McCartney was concerned at Lipa graduation last week.
The former Beatle turned up, handed out badges, kissed the girls, did his usual graduation day speech - then vanished.
It left Queen guitarist Brian May to do the glad-handing at the after-graduation party, and frankly, legend or no legend, £800m or no £800m, was just a little bit rude.
It was also unfair on Lipa principal Mark Featherstone-Witty who had to explain to guests and graduates (for a second year running) that Sir Paul had fled.
For those of you who can barely remember your own graduation, or who have never gone through the torturous proceedure, it consists of clapping your hands red raw for two hours while excited graduates bounce across the stage in gown and mortar boards.
In Lipa's case, they bounce across to McCartney.
The first time I went to the ceremony four years ago, I must admit it all felt a bit surreal - Macca sitting there on the stage before me, sans guitar, sans microphone.
But after an hour or two you forget the legend and he becomes just another suit.
Then there are the Lipa 'companions' - faces from the world of theatre, music, dance and the like - who get what is the equivalent of an honorary degree.
I remember one year having a few too many drinks at the after ceremony party and telling Willy Russell, quite emphatically, to "come down off your crucifix" (something he'd said in his speech about critics gathering like those at the foot of the cross if I remember).
Come to think of it, that was also the year I told writer Tim Firth his acceptance address had made me feel grubby. I can't quite recall what he'd said, but I do remember the look of slight bemusement on his face as I rocked up to him and delivered this greeting.
Other years I've found myself chatting happily to the Bangles, or the nice and polite Tim Wheeler from Ash (I asked him whether Robin Gibb wouldn't remove his baseball cap because he was bald underneath), or any number of arty luminaries.
But of course, the main 'event', at these after graduation events is McCartney himself.
The first year I went, I begged to be introduced but when he shook my hand I could only come out with the lame "it looked a bit warm up there on stage".
To which the man who played the sweaty Cavern among others replied: "it wasn't too bad."
Duh!
The second year, we were instructed to stand under coloured bits of card and Paul would come to us, greeting his way around the room like the Queen.
Last year, there was disappointment when he was in the midst of his divorce row and decided he couldn't face being Mr Bonhomie.
But this year, despite promises from the management that he would turn up, he just decided to sag off like a naughty schoolboy.
Only McCartney isn't the 'Inny' student of the misty-eyed memories he always harks back to, he's the very public face of a Performing Arts college and his failure to materialise and give up a few minutes of his time to make polite chit chat was disappointing for organisers and for guests too.
Thank heavens for Brian May, who wasn't even there to get a gong himself - although he did rock up in his JMU cap and gown which he'd got the week before - but was supporting wife Anita Dobson who was made a companion.
She' seems like a pleasant woman, albeit teetering on fluffiness, while May is a real gentleman and they are obviously dotty about each other.
Ben Elton was also there, dapper in a suit but shorter than I imagined! His companion's address was more a gentle form of his old stand-up routine - and the main advice he had to offer graduates was not to get themselves tattooed because as he said, it would ruin the bathing scene in My Fair Lady.
The best speech of the afternoon came from the delightful veteran stage designer Ralph Koltai who told graduates you didn't get a job because of your body of work, you got it because you had a good personality and were chatty over a cup of coffee.
Good advice indeed.
