Tag Archives: clocks

1951. Daylight saving

Delores hated having to change all the clocks in the house just because the government had decided to tamper with the time. Summer time, daylight-saving – call it what you will… Surely most adults were old enough to decide for themselves if they wanted to do things earlier or later. Meddling with the time was a scheme invented by lazy politicians who liked to sleep-in in the mornings.

The change always came on a Sunday. Sunday was a day for relaxing and Delores, with the change of time, managed to feel tired all day. Monday tomorrow would be different. By then the body had almost got used to eating at the wrong time.

The first thing to do on Monday was to get the kids ready for school. They were grouchy because everything was earlier. Hurry, children! Hurry! At last, they were installed in the car and on their way.

They arrived near the school. This change of time was so confusing. For some reason she was an hour too early. They waited in the car. Children will argue! At last they could be released. It was then that Delores realized she hadn’t changed the clock in the car.

1174. Timed to perfection

Lambert was determined to adjust the time on his grandfather clock to perfection. When he started to fine-tune it, it was gaining three minutes every two weeks.

With a little adjustment, it was losing just over thirty seconds every week.

And then perfection came! The clock maintained perfect time when he measured it weekly for four weeks. That was when the earthquake (only a little one) tipped the clock over and smashed it to smithereens.

971. Funeral time

971funeral

(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?”

632. Against the clock

© Bruce Goodman 4 July 2015

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Hector had been a member of the local Pigeon Racing Society for just over thirty years. In that time he had won the Champion of Champions Pigeon Racing prize fifteen times. Each time he had been proudly presented with a regulator wall clock that chimed on the quarter hour and had a dove pop out like a cuckoo on the hour and coo.

What does one do with fifteen wall clocks? There were only seven rooms in his house. He’d given one each to his three children. His estranged wife had been bestowed with the noisiest one.

But fifteen wasn’t the total number. One year Hector was so tired of winning the Champion of Champions Pigeon Racing clock that he didn’t enter the competition. That was the year they made him a life member and gave him a clock.

Even though he thoroughly enjoyed pigeon racing, Hector desired no further clock. If he was to partake in pigeon racing, it would have to be competitively. He would be out to win. The only solution was to resign from the club.

He resigned. They gave him a…