The Applicant (part 1)

Mr Erdelsky shuffled through a large pile of large brown envelopes, their contents  poking untidily through their torn ends. It was the end of a long, weary day at the University Admissions office and a good three hundred students had decided to submit their applications on the last day before the deadline. He yawned dryly and he felt his eyes prickle wetly with tiredness. His main priority now was to get home to his warm fire and his two Cocker Spaniels, Holly and Diamond, and relax in front of the TV. However, it wasn't until he had pulled his coat over his aching shoulders and was about to turn off the dusky lamp on his desk, that he noticed another brown envelope. Just the one, exactly the same as all the others (although its end neat and untorn because it hadn't been opened yet), peeking timidly from beneath his In-try. He sighed.1

'Not another,' he muttered, irritated. He grabbed it, ripped it open quickly and pulled out a few, slightly crumpled, white sheets of paper. Each had a very large amount of very square-looking text, typed in the smallest possible font. His eyes squinted oddly as he looked at it from behind his glasses. It became blurry.2

Moving the small wad of paper in his hands slowly backwards and forwards in front of his place, trying to focus, he realised that there was no way in a million years he'd be able to absorb another applicants details. He'd have to skim it and look at it more closely tomorrow. 3

He began to glance over the text, not reading every word, just getting the gist of what it was trying to say. Skimming through the main details of the applicant rapidly, he got to the Personal statement, and began to read. As per usual, the main sort of things came up, why this individual wanted to apply to this course etc, and what experience they had. He felt his eyelids dropping down a notch with each paragraph he read wished he had a couple of matchsticks to prop them open as he read. Then, with a start, he suddenly jerked awake. He had come to a section about the applicants passion for poetry and how this person had their own web-page. There was an web address as well (to prove he or she isn't lying, he presumed inwardly, before checking to see whether this person was a male or female for he'd forgotten this detail already - the applicant was female). 4

Suddenly, his ears pricked up. Oh, how he loved poetry. How he loved both reading and writing it, but especially reading it. Writing was only enjoyed when the urge hit him and creativity flowed through his brain, helped by any inspiring thought that crept into his mind. He couldn't resist looking at this person's work. It would help him to wake up, so he would be safe driving home, he convinced himself as he glanced at the clock. The illuminated digital numbers told him at was nearly half past six. The dogs will be okay for a little while, he told himself. He swiveled around in his char, clicked on the 'Internet Explorer' icon on his desktop and tapped in the address.5

'www.allpoetry.com/CelticKisses'6

To be continued...7