Also, according to the Ent Cent site, they really are starting at 7.45, which means, public transport willing, I might get home to see a bit of the Boy From Blackpool, who is allegedly banging it out until midnight, according to the Foxtel Guide, which contains much that is inaccurate and hypocryphal.
Would like to do that because I don't think throwing a sickie tomorrow would go down well, no matter how knackered I am or desirous of see young Jonas in a bad tv movie.
The meeting? Not so good on the whole keeping the job front. I've lost about 70% of it already. I've had to write to the union for help. I also had to formally complain to the bus company re being, literally, jerked around.
I'm also having to book time off re conferences with the hospital re mother's future care. That is going to big and awful because I cannot take it on.
In fact it's all rather awful, the whole work thing and the whole family thing. So bad a colleague saluted me for hobbling off to The Cure tonight like the plucky little trooper I am. I'm trying, but the cracks are really showing now as things lurch from worse to heinous. I'm not sure I can take much more, I really don't.
Time travel could be possible ... in the future
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It came from the sea
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Fossil finds challenge view of man's place in evolution
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