Illusion and Delusion

You know when you absolutely pull off a blinder at work, organising single-handedly a massive European universities fair that is deemed to be a triumph, and at the end of a thirteen hour day you think "ooh maybe I am good at this and should stay"?  Well that's an illusion.  Tomorrow it will be back to relentless pooh.  I said to my boss that he could now write me an absolutely fantastic reference.

Having fed about 70 of the 100 university reps and then slung them out, with the elegance and aggression of an East-end pub landlady, I found one standing forlornly in the Chateau car park.  He looked like he might be eaten by wolves so I went over to see if he was okay.  He had already tried my patience earlier by having not asked me to order a taxi in advance and I gave him someone else's, because she had over-ordered and got herself an Uber.  Clearly someone had then nicked his taxi.

He sorted out one for himself and we walked down the dark, leafy hill together so I could let him out the electronic school gates.  We chatted amiably about Brussels.  "You have a lovely..." he began warmly, and in that moment, one felt that anything might happen.  In infinite parallel universes, indeed it might.  "...campus," he said.   Even at my advanced age, we still have the odd delusion.