Once there was a time, but the minutes fell off and we had to take it back to the shop to have them replaced, but it never seemed to work right afterwards, the seconds seemed to take forever to pass and the hours had a strange whiff of elderberries about them, at least during the hours of darkness. There was something not quite right about the years too, the way they seemed to require us to make some rather dubious fashion-related choices and avidly watch TV programmes that in later years always turned out to be utter crap.
Still, at least the weeks worked all right, except for that odd thing with the occasional weekend which seemed to end up with us seeing rather more of the wife's relatives than would otherwise be the case in a more... shall we say, clockwork universe.
Say what you like about progress, but at least you knew where you were with the old-fashioned Newtonian universe, if you time did start going a bit out of whack, all you needed was to give the billiard balls a bit of a nudge now and then and everything was back to normal, bung a bit of top-spin on them too and you could – with a bit of luck - miss out on those wife's relative-visiting weekends altogether. Yes, those were the days... when you could get them to work, that is.
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