Ideally I would like to
have visited my mother today: she'd been taken into hospital on
Boxing Day following a fall (she's home now and all is well),
and today was her birthday. But (seemingly unlike the rest of the
world) I was back to work today. So I contented myself with a
phone call. It seems as though I always go back to work on Mum's
birthday.
Work didn't go well
today. Well to be honest, work went much the same as ever, but I
spent most of the day in a bit of a sulk purely because pretty much
everyone else was still on holiday (or so it seemed).
Tonight was arky-ologee
club. We didn't go. My sinusitis was giving me gyp, and realistically
I've very little interest in the arky-ologee club. Some of the talks
are interesting enough, but the core business of the club (scrubbling
about in holes in the dirt) leaves me yawning. Next month is when
we will be expected to renew our membership: I don't think I will
renew.
Meanwhile there has been
a celebrity death. "Cheetah" - star of many "Tarzan"
films died today aged eighty Fond of Christian music and finger
painting, when irritated "Cheetah" was not averse to
flinging dung about. Or so early news reports claimed. Later
reports claimed that the monkey who died today not only wasn't
the film star monkey, but was nowhere near eighty years old.
Apparently if the monkey
that died was the real McCoy, then he would have been the oldest
monkey ever. The news reports seem to imply that somehow the public
have been duped into accepting an imposter monkey. I can't see what
anyone stands to gain with substituting one monkey for another.
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