When ever I set off a smoke alarm, or (on those thankfully rare occasions) a fire alarm, I am reminded of
What wrong with bell?man. His story took place or at least the part of his story that involved me, I can only assume his story is still taking place somewhere in a big old Victorian (or earlier) town house that had been converted into student accommodation, and in which I managed to live rent free for over a year. Anyhow, WWWB? man was original from somewhere in the Far East (China, Korea, Vietnam, I just don't remember) and every single time he cooked during the first two months, he set off the fire alarm. The third or fourth time this happened I went upstairs to the third floor kitchen where he was 'cooking', all the while the fire alarm was blaring at its ear-deafening volume, and the kitchen was so full of smoke I could barely see WWWB? man. It was at this moment that he uttered his immortal line,
What wrong with bell?. I don't recall what I said to him, sadly it probably didn't include the phrase,
There's nothing wrong with the bell, you fucking moron.. Forever on he was known, to me at least, as
What wrong with bell?man. Still it could be worse, the other thing that I remember this guy for was an incident involving a newspaper, a toilet and something you should be doing in the toilet directly and not in a newspaper first, then folding it up and putting the newspaper into the toilet. But that isn't a savoury story and I plan on cooking later this evening.
On the subject of memories (okay we weren't really on the subject of memories but I'm segueing gracefully away from discussions of unpleasant toilet activities), what is it about certain songs that makes me associate them with particular moments and places? Today, thanks to the joy of random music selection, I was transported to Beaufort Street, London (by The Slide The Beautiful South), the laundromat in Tower, Minnesota (by Sk8er Boi Avril Lavigne) and Victoria Tower Gardens, London (by Have You Seen Her The Chi-lites). The last of which is still my favourite place in the world to go when I'm depressed, there's something strangely reassuring about the Houses of Parliament, the Burghers of Calais, the anti-slavery monument and of course the river (somehow Olentangy river doesn't quite have the same effect on me).
Oh well, that cooking thing calls. (Chicken curry in case you're curious.)