For Whom The Bell Tolls (or A Funny Thing Happened In Paris)

For Whom The Bell Tolls (or A Funny Thing Happened In Paris) - Expatlog The plaque on the wall said it hadn’t been rung since July 1st 2002.

Well, that was about to change…

S and I stood in the car park and squinted up at where the town bell rested now, immutable, immoveable on a neat stone cairn, the great metal clapper still and soundless, suspended at eye-level. A burly man with an impish glint and a jaunty gait joined us as I was peering at the underside of the dome and asked, “Does it still work?” Without waiting for an answer he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a retractable steel tape measure. Pulling the whippy metal ribbon out to arms length he used it to push the clapper. Despite the tremulous strip buckling almost immediately, it was just enough to set it in motion and the ponderous momentum brought the arc of the clapper’s swing within his reach. S and I watched, our faces a melee of alarm, curiosity and delight, as he tucked the tape measure back in his pocket and gave the orb a couple of awkward shoves – the chest height broad stone cairn preventing him from getting some body weight behind it. It was enough...

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