Work began on a scheme which would incorporate six mini roundabouts in early 1973 and the new look roundabout was opened as an experiment in June 1973. It's pictured here on the opening day. Its opening attracted then national press and television and the Gazette reported it caused some of the biggest traffic jams ever seen in Hemel Hempstead.

The plentiful opportunities to glimpse koalas in the wild are the principal draw, especially for foreign visitors to the island, which lies off the southern coast of South Australia. But few people who leave suffused with a warm glow realise that the furry marsupials are not, in fact, native. Introduced in the 1920s, they are wreaking havoc, stripping their favourite gum trees of leaves and destroying precious habitats.

Conservationists have tried to solve the problem by relocating some koalas to the mainland, and even sterilising them. Now they say there is no alternative but a mass cull. The government agrees - but says that it's out of the question: the country's image would be irrevocably tarnished, it argues, and tourism would go into free fall.

Uncanny: The evening Hanson got the skull, in April 2002, he grabbed a pair of calipers and struck out for a popular bar in an artsy Dallas warehouse district called Exposition Park. There he quickly scanned the room and spotted Kristen Nelson — a willowy blue-eyed brunette he knew casually — chatting with a guy at the bar. Hanson walked past once or twice, and they smiled at each other. Finally he walked up and said hello. "Can I measure your skull?" he asked.

Unappealing: Think removing a real girl's clothes can be tricky? Karen was not only uncooperative but insanely heavy. I never really understood the term "dead weight" before. With Aaron's help, I eventually got her naked and positioned her head in my direction. Grabbing her hand, I shrieked. Karen's skeleton was discernable through her flesh, just like a real person's.

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Regardless of one's view about the merits of the suits, the mega-fees from the 1998 tobacco settlement were nothing but egregious. Some 300 lawyers from 86 firms will pocket as much as $30 billion over the next 25 years even though, for many of them, the suits posed minimal risk and demanded little effort. That staggering sum comes right out of taxpayers' pockets — enough money to hire 750,000 teachers. When it comes to big corporations ripping off the public, no one holds a candle to Trial Lawyers, Inc.

Although this strong signal was never positively identified, astronomers have identified in it many attributes characteristic of a more mundane and ultimately terrestrial origin. In this case, a leading possibility is that the signal originates from an unusual modulation between a GPS satellite and an unidentified Earth-based source. Many unusual signals from space remain unidentified. No signal has yet been strong enough or run long enough to be unambiguously identified as originating from an extraterrestrial intelligence.

A day, a human day, has a certain shape and structure to it; a day, in most respects, resembles a room in which our things are ordered according to our preference. It may be empty or it may be full, but in either case it is familiar. Over here is the place where you rest (10 p.m. to 6 a.m., perhaps), over there is the place where you eat or work or feel most alive. You know your way around the place so well, you can find the bathroom in the dark. But under jet lag, of course, you lose all sense of where or who you are. You get up and walk toward the bathroom and bang into a chair. You reach toward the figure next to you and then remember that she's 7,000 miles away, at work. You get up for lunch, and then remember that you have eaten lunch six times already. You feel almost like an exile, a fugitive of sorts, as you walk along the hotel corridor at 4 a.m., while all good souls are in their beds, and then begin to yawn as everyone around you goes to work. The day is stretched and stretched, in this foreign world of displacement, till it snaps.

[...]

One day in 1971, a woman called Sarah Krasnoff made off with her 14-year-old grandson, who was caught up in an unseemly custody dispute, and took him into the sky. In a plane, she knew, they were subject to no laws, and if they never stopped moving, the law could never catch up with them. They flew from New York to Amsterdam. When they arrived, they turned around and flew from Amsterdam to New York. Then they flew from New York to Amsterdam again, and from Amsterdam to New York, again and again and again, month after month.

They took about 160 flights in all, one after the other, according to the stage piece ''Jet Lag.'' They saw 22 movies an average of seven times each. They ate lunch again and again and turned their watches six hours forward, then six hours back. The whole fugitive enterprise ended when Krasnoff, 74, finally collapsed and died, the victim, doctors could only suppose, of terminal jet lag.