However, I digress, what's money when the health of a feline friend is at stake even though she isn't currently miaowing to me.
No, as I left the vet's, there, opposite me, was the answer to the question that has intrigued musicologists since December 15, 1944!
True he has dropped the second n from his first name but that could be a cover or maybe the signwriter was getting paid by the letter and Glen(n), they tell me was a hard man with a buck.
Maybe I should check him out and visit the funeral parlour - it may even be a speakeasy where they drink bathtub gin from teacups and the Vieux Carré Jazzmen play Oh Didn't he Ramble.
Glenn would be 117 years old by now but appearances can be deceptive as I said to my friend Methuselah just the other day - we were at school together although he was quite a few years ahead of me.
I'll go in to the emporium and say that I'd like Moonlight Serenade played at my Great Great Great Grandmother's funeral. Could you arrange it? At the same time I'll be examining his embouchure for those tell-tale signs around the lips that identify the person as either a brass player or a fire eater.
If he says that it depends if he's In the Mood then I'll say that I'll get back to him.
PS: The above, of course, is just a piece of fun and in no way is intended to reflect upon Glen Miller Funeral Directors - I guess they've heard it all before!
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