971. Funeral time

(Dear Everyone, I have decided to finish this blog at story 1001, which will be on the 7th of July. Initially there were to be 555 stories – for no reason the number of sonatas composed by Dominico Scarlatti. Then I extended it to 1001 – the number of nights in the Arabian Nights. Then I extended it to 1066 – a number of significance to those who follow William the Conqueror. I’m not going to do the 1066 bit, and all that, but am going to stick to the 1001 stories. There are still 7 left to write!

The last monthly poem will appear on the 1st of July.

As for the weekly pieces of music: I had finished composing the weekly music up until mid September. So as not to waste them, from now until the 7th of July I shall post music two or three times a week, including the usual Wednesday.

The reason(s) for all this is that I’m tired. I have to move house on December 12th and haven’t found anywhere to go yet. This will be the 13th time to have moved in 16 years. I also have other things to do in life! and other things to perhaps write. The blog material will eventually be shifted over to my website at Stagebarn – where reside my novel, some short stories, an autobiography, and my plays and musicals.

Anyway – I’ve got to sort things out now. Here’s today’s story!)

Let’s face it; Giuseppe didn’t want to go to the funeral. His wife, Maree, said, “So why go?” But Giuseppe felt duty bound. Some sort of ex-colleague from Giuseppe’s pre-retirement days had passed on. Giuseppe wasn’t feeling too well himself, and wasn’t feeling too eager to have to sit for an hour or so in a cold church.

“With your poor health I wish you wouldn’t go,” said Maree. “It’ll be the death of you.” But Giuseppe insisted.

The funeral was at ten in the morning. Giuseppe arrived a good ten minutes early. There wasn’t a vehicle, a mourner, or a coffin in sight. He waited a while and then went back home. He checked the newspaper. Yes, definitely at ten o’clock, and at that venue. What a mystery.

The next day Giuseppe noticed something…

“Why,” he asked Maree, “is every clock in the house two hours slow?”

Listen to the story being read HERE!