Saturday, 19 September 2009

old school bell


Bicycle bells are important when you live in a city like Bristol. Well, I think so, though it seems that lots of people think they are uncool. Hmm. Getting splatted by a car or having a pedestrian step in front of you? That's uncool. Sorry if it's confusing.

I even had an air horn for a while, which caused jaywalkers to leap into the air in a pretty gratifying way, let me tell you. But it was a bit of a faff pumping it up again.

I have had a big Chinese bell that goes DING DONG, and another one that whizzes round and goes RINGARINGARINGARINGA for just as long as you want to keep pressing the lever. Long ago, I had a fork-mounted bell that you operated with a Bowden cable, causing it to rub against the wheel and ring like fury. That was good fun.

Latest bell to adorn my handlebar is this neat Japanese job, with a clear ring to it and a very long sustain. It somehow manages to sound Japanese. It came from the nice folk at the Edinburgh Bicycle Cooperative.

And that's about it for today. Except that we got a glossy magazine through the door yesterday, which is nothing particularly unusual in the Leafy Suburb, but I'd not seen this one before. It's called School House, and it's basically a big brochure for private schools. There are advertisements with pictures of well-groomed children in Ralph Lauren clothes, or studying Harrods shoes. There are articles like Leader Or Follower? Why the first day really matters. There are statements like "having a child with extra-curricular talent feels like having a hand of cards with one sensational ace in the hole". Gosh. To me, having a daughter who does stuff and is good at it feels like having a daughter. I guess maybe it's a Two Nations thing.

The brochure has been put together by Penny, Fiona, Petra, Camilla, Melissa, Sophy, Lulu, Sophie and Tom. The small print explains that the magazine is delivered to 'AB homes'.

Got it wrong here, then. Crikey, those school fees are more than I've ever earned in a year.

Guess they're desperate for business.