No batteries included.

Last evening's docilely-squandered late night left me awake in the afternoon too late and too little bothered to join the Boxing Day sales, as if there is anything I might want to purchase in the first place. Might want a pair of running shoes to complement my boots, however, so I might propel myself to shop nevertheless tomorrow morning. Later today, more rather.

Today's another wasted day in keeping with yesterday's achievement. A breakfast, for want of a better name, then tried reading some Fukuyama but lost interest a few pages in. After the extremely superior fiction of Cloud Atlas, it seems that more cerebral books fosters less interest within me. Quite a marvellous book, that, says I the eloquent book-reviewer. While the tale of Sonmi in particular was a gem, the whole concoction mixed beautifully. Had to keep myself from cheating by looking past the pages.

Settled on How to Cut a Cake before that too proved tedious. Read some electronic forums and re Postmodernism, Consumerism and the National Grange in Wiki before realising that the clock I bought from Euro-Disney was a tad off.

Fifteen Euros it cost. Made in China. Generic enough clock with naught to distinguish it from any other bar a Mickey clock-face background. Looked akin to something printed out of MS Word, I have to confess. The impulsive non-shopper that I was, I remembered desperately thrashing about the theme park trying to find at least something as a souvenir before settling on this clock. Fleeced as I was, at least its ticks and rings served some utility. No batteries included.

Took it apart.

The thin waft of grease that greeted me as I disassembled it conjured for a second the memory of those Tamiya model-racing cars that I, as well as half the children of the country, used to cobble together like some miniature mechanic. Talks of how the "red engine is superior to the blue standard engine" and the barters and trade in transactions between young friends a decade old rung some strange bells. Where are they now? The flow of time stranded them on some minor eddy somewhere, or off to some foreign strand of river. The cars, too, I suppose.

Fiddled with the innards of the clock for a bit, accomplishing nothing. Just have to keep in mind that the little hand is half an hour too quick past the moment, then.

Put everything back into place. Hummed the sound of a small whirring engine as I put in the battery.

Stock of tea nearly out. Must remember to fetch to Sainsbury's tomorrow. Later today, more rather.