This has just this minute landed in the ol’ e-mail in-box and should, I hope, bring a little sunshine into your weekend. Rickey, thanks good buddy!
Is this new? I’ve no idea. What I do know is it’s new to me so what can I say? Actually, I can say what I like; you can’t hear me, right? Right?
An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.
Leaning on the wall he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the kitchen table were hundreds of his favourite scones.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Yorkshire wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the
table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon ......
'Bugger off,' she said, 'they're for the funeral.'
Quote; Euripides.
“No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.”
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