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A chapter from the book, Don't trample the dogs by Michael
Sinclair-Smith.
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DONG!... I awoke with a start. DONG!...DONG!... The whole room vibrated
and my water glass jiggled slowly across the bedside table. Trying to blot out the
deafening noise, I buried my head under the pillow and winced. DONG!... The 300- hundred-
year- old cathedral bell,used to announce the time and summon the parishioners from miles
around, was just too effective, across the road from my bedroom. |
| DONG!...DONG!...DONG! At last the vibration ceased and
silence descended as it does in the aftermath of an explosion. Slowly taking the pillow
off my head, I realized it was time to get up. I smiled to myself, recollecting Jasper's
words at breakfast on the previous day. On awakening, he too had heard the bells tolling
and had counted. Expecting them to end at the seventh hour, he thought he had overslept at
8, was worried at 9, was rushing around at 10, was horrified at 11, was furious at me at
12, was confused at 13 and was struck by the insane humour of it all at 14, when at that
point he sheepishly realized he was hearing the daily call to mass, not the tolling of the
time. |
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