I thought about posting a mirror of yesterday’s photograph, because that’s pretty much how the day went, and now the other side of the boat is done so there is progress on that front (or side to be more technically correct), and then it occurred that there’s another side to our mooring as well.
The traffic noise from the bridge is barely enough to notice during the day, in fact apart from the comforting kerthunk of a heavy vehicle occasionally hitting the expansion joints at speed, or the sirens of an emergency vehicle on a mission, one would barely be aware of its presence.
Similarly the carillon bells from the Yser Tower are far enough away so that when we hear the occasional discordant clang wafting our way on the breeze, we are grateful that we aren’t moored directly below it as we have been in the past, and indeed as Chris and Meg are at present. I’m sure the musically inclined will confirm that the bells are in fact correctly tuned and have not been dropped on their heads at birth, and that the tunes themselves are the work of someone who really knew how to make a few old bells clang, it’s just not always obvious to ears of the casual passer-by.
There’s something jarring about the sound of those bells that reminds us of some of the darker times in our past. Every fifteen minutes, when they fire up full of enthusiasm, slightly out of time and not quite tuned to our ears, we are transported back in time to every preschool percussion concert we’ve ever had the joy of attending.
If it was one of our kids ringing those bells perhaps we would have entirely different view of the cacophony.
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