Unnoticed by anyone but me, an elephant walked into the room, with a folding stool under his arm.
He wore a tutu-like frill of pink tulle around his ample waist and his head sprouted a cascade of feathers held in place by a diamante-studded chinstrap. He unfolded the stool, and very daintily lowered his wrinkled grey bottom onto it. Then the elephant draped his trunk over his chubby grey knees and just sat there.
I learned all this just last week during a chance meeting last week with an ex-circus elephant. I met him at a committee meeting of all places. The meeting had reached the stage - which many committee meetings do - when a perfect storm of unacknowledged personal agendas, power struggles, and personal animosities had completely derailed the discussion. It was then, unnoticed by anyone but me, an elephant walked into the room, with a folding stool under his arm.