Imagine a Christmas party catering for over 90 ten year olds and you may well understand where I am going with this.
The location was a large hall with loud music, flashing lights and near darkness. This all served to ignite the children up into a frenzy of excitement. I saw parallels with the Nurenburg rallies, where the Nazis organisers used the techniques of darknes, fire and music to seduce those attending.
A colleague who has served in the armed forces put his head round the door, shuddered and said that some of the conflict zones he was involved in would be preferable.
The time came for food. The children were very well behaved but ate at such a speed I fancied some may have being feeding a small dog under the table that they had somehow smuggled in!
With the humidity building, I opened a door to elements to let in fresh air. This was to be an unwitting disaster. A small starling flew in through said door and nervously flew around, to a combination of cheers and screams from the assembled group. Trying to get the starling back out I managed to get some brooms. I and two other colleagues tried to usher it to the exit.
Perhaps it was the noise or us with brooms but the little starling was visibily getting nervous. With pinpoint accuracy this nervousness was released, in a not that dissimilar way to Lancasters in WWII on a child's sausage roll. My assertions in order to pacify that this was in fact a lucky omen, didn't seem to offer much consolation.
Luckily, with food over with the children were marched back into the disco area and the problem of the unwelcome visitor was passed to someone else.
As I rode home on my Brompton - though of which was the only thing that kept me going - I gave a sigh of relief. As I started this blog, there are some things nothing in life prepares one for. This definitely falls into that category!