Welcome to post #400. Here is a question to tax the best of us. If there's even any doubt about this, if it's open to debate, can we be included in the survey please?
I have not proved the Poincaré conjecture: no Martian landers have crashed due to my miscalculations. Actuarial tables leave me as cold as the tomb: I do not play in Gamespace. I let the PC do my public-key cryptography for me: I was happy with only one infinity before the advent of multilevel set theory. But when I spend 40p having a go on the miniature railway in Tunnel Park, I know exactly how much change to give Bud.
I have not proved the Poincaré conjecture: no Martian landers have crashed due to my miscalculations. Actuarial tables leave me as cold as the tomb: I do not play in Gamespace. I let the PC do my public-key cryptography for me: I was happy with only one infinity before the advent of multilevel set theory. But when I spend 40p having a go on the miniature railway in Tunnel Park, I know exactly how much change to give Bud.
When I got into the playground this afternoon, ErinsMum was surrounded by even more of her fan club than usual. This is because she had Erin's new puppy on her lap. The hound is 10 weeks old, black and hairy. It was timid and attempted to shrink back from the gaggle of schoolgirls that mobbed it. I don't think it knew it had a vet's appointment for many injections, out of the frying pan into the pressure cooker.
Wednesday park was a quieter affair as Ben was off with an ear infection (again?) and Erin was watching the vet stab her puppy. The JoniBobs and I did our usual stuff, we got a go on the basket and invented a new game called Conker-run. We take it in turns to run the gauntlet along the mural on the thatched building while the other 2 fighters throw, um, those big brown nuts that all kids love, come on trees - coconuts! at the runner. That's why we call it Conker-run. Nobody got hurt because we're all rubbish shots. At one point Bud hurt my feelings with another innocuous comment which made me throw my smarties tube against a tree, so all the smarties went on the floor, so I had no smarties left! It's clearly all his fault, so I howled and sulked for 10 minutes.
At home, I roped Jof into doing a dinosaur diorama as detailed in the book I brought back from school. Bud blew 3 (evolutionarily related thus suitable) chicken eggs (10 days past their use-by date) to act as dinosaur eggs while Jof helped me with the tinfoil and cutting out/sticking. Not sure where the tinfoil is going but perhaps the baby dinos will be protected against the secret alien government mind-control transmissions.
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