The Dinner Bell

If you have ever been at our house, you have probably been aquainted with our various "bells."

There's the little one out by the shed that is quite high-pitched and useful for just about nothing. (Except hanging the key for the shed on it!)

We also have the "U" and "D" bells. Those are wireless doorbells - the buttons are installed in the kitchen and the parts that you plug in (that actually make the chiming sound) are located in the upstairs and downstairs hallways. The idea is pretty much the equivalent of those little bells they had for servants. . . and Mum and Dad are the rich aristocrats, while us kids are the servants. They ring the bell, and we are to come to the kitchen from wherever we are in the house.

And of course, our ancient dinner bell - I think it's a cowbell. The name pretty much says it all . . . we ring it at dinner time and everyone is supposed to come running.

However, when I make dinner, I have my own special bell - the smoke alarm.

Okay, so last night was the first time I have ever made it go off. . . but it was a good one. I had some bread broiling in the oven, and, neglecting to set a timer, I forgot about it. It caught on fire. The whole event was quite dramatic, although would have been far more interesting/dangerous had Mum not been there to extinguish it. I don't think I could have pulled the pan out of the oven and manuevered it into the sink with as much poise and dexterity as she did - it was amazing.

That said, I learned a valuable lesson - always make enough food for a meal so that, if one course burns beyond recognition by some strange twist of fate, you will still have plenty.

No, I did not take pictures.