No it doesn't!
Pterodactyls fly (or more accurately flew)….. time comes to a grinding halt at 10am on Wednesdays.
I inadvertently bumped into space invader as she arrived this morning, and immediately the old bat chose to engage me in conversation about the weather (wet!). "Jolly good for the garden" she chirped.
Bearing in mind my complete inability to photosynthesise, her over-enthusiasm was somewhat lost on the cold and soggy peroxide blonde that stood before her.
Know it all was attired in yet another absurd t-shirt bearing worldly advertisements of far flung continents, and boring everyone to death with his talk of badgers (by way of a change from his past voyages of discovery).
My eager anticipation of dinosaur talk was marred by further plate tectonics, but we did finally hear about “Bolide” …..allegedly a giant meteor that brought about the demise of the dinosaurs. It made a welcome change from `earth rock` at any rate.
For reasons best known only to himself, the lecturer likened the more belligerent beasts that roamed the planet, to Norman Bishops! This surreal comparison threw me considerably, and my mind rapidly wandered off into BBC comedy shows in the genre of Monty Python.
It was at this inopportune point, that I could no longer ignore the lecturer's minor speech impediment (manners generally forbid me to mock the afflicted) and phrases like "Gweat Bawwiew Weef" and "Afwican Wain Fowest" left me in mortal danger of hysterics.
In a futile attempt to suppress a giggle I chose to cough. Not a particularly wise move as it turned out, as before long the entire class were alarmingly spluttering out of control in some sort of psychologically-induced mass bronchial fit, and the only realistic solution was to head for the canteen for a premature Nescafe.
With a somewhat guilty conscience, I opted to share a table with a quiet and unassuming gentleman in a rather desperate attempt to avoid attracting any more gratuitous attention to myself. Unfortunately, for my solitary companion, space invader, know it all AND the lecturer all followed me like a bizarre and geriatric version of the Pied Piper. Before the poor unfortunate soul had the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat, the canteen rang with the booming "When I was in
Suitably revived, and back in class, we raced through the Triassic period with somewhat alarming speed, and out through the Cretaceous period, all in a matter of minutes!
Much to my immense irritation, our very own fossil spent Act Two noisily hunting through her gigantic handbag for boiled sweets, wrapped in the noisiest cellophane I have ever heard, in an effort to curtail the remnants of the cough I’d inflicted upon her earlier. This resulted in me missing so many important dates and facts I eventually gave up on the biro and notepad idea altogether.
There is something mildly comforting in the space beneath a big blue brolly, and while I trudged home, cautiously avoiding the ponds that were once mere potholes, I couldn't help but ponder upon the fact that somewhere on this largely uncharted planet dinosaurs probably do still survive.
It's a wonder that know it all hasn't seen them.