Tuesday, 26 April 2011

Dodo islanders

There's a garden of thin short spikes on my head.  Tonight I am plucking them off as I would unruly weeds.  It's that part in the chemo cycle when they fall with ease.  And as I type this, I am getting what I dread as hot flashes!  Menopause is such a scary word.

I know I must be repeating myself like a beserk parrot but tired is a word I am not getting tired of using.  I am tired. So tired.  So so tired.

On a different note, we dodo islanders are a unique breed.  We are masters at passing the buck.  Today I witnessed and participated in some buck passing. 

Our meetings start with some careful but discreet looking to your right and left for identification of who to pass the buck to, then there follows a slow dance of recriminations, polite finger-pointing, a bit a serious plannning, some weird form of division of labour and finally locating that one agent to lumber with a whole can of worms to tease apart at short notice.  And then the buck stops.

 All this is done with a combination of civility, bull tactics and unearthing of obscure papers and commitments to hang a poor sweating culprit.

But then, as you leave the meeting, you laugh and chide your opponents a little, forgive any mishaps and forget the gaping lapses and head straight to your desk to do your part to save the day.

Yes, we dodo islanders are a unique breed.  We scrap everything and save the day :)

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