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The boy in the belfry

April 04, 2010 // Link

I love my current digs, a tiny pad right in downtown Toronto that I’m gussying up in pop art style. Orange cubes for a coffee table? Check. Huge Warhol style print of Vespas? Check. White shag rug, chrome wire side chair, and mural silhouette of a coat rack acting as an actual coat rack? Check, check, and check. Nearby church bells going bonkers all morning? Che—

—hold on, that wasn’t in the plan.

The location of Casa del Carrington is fantastic—it’s vibrant and convenient and fun—but it’s also adjacent to a church. So: bells.

[aside]

Plus, if I went inside I’d probably burst into flames or something.

[end of aside]

Usually the bells are easy to ignore, and it’s actually quite pleasant to hear them chiming the hour. But today is Easter so the bells are a-ringin’ and a-ding-ding-dingin’ more than ever before. A jubilant cacophony, which I suppose is fitting for Easter if you’re more about crosses than bunnies.

I keep imagining a happy hunchback (because what kind of respectable church doesn’t have a hunchback?) swinging wildly at the base of the bell tower, leaping from rope to rope like some titillated Tarzan. Or a Donkey Kong Jr. cosplayer who really commits.

Anyway, it’s coming up on half an hour of this ding dong tumult that’s as tuneless as tap shoes in a dryer, but I do hope the boy in the belfry is having the time of his life.