The Bear Bell

So I know that I have been very, very silent for over a week and it is because I have steadily been drowning in my piles of work. I know, I know "that old excuse" but in true Molly Fletcher style I have left things slightly last minute and have thus got to complete a 6,000 words essay by Monday, a 1,500 word essay by next Friday, and somehow squeeze in some extra time to revise for those infamous finals. Oh the joys. But I am sure that you are not reading to hear about my boring Uni torments so I will tell you a story...

Several years ago I went on a camping holiday with my parents and my sister by the Okefenokee Swamp in the heart of Georgia. Yes you did read that correctly I, Molly Fletcher did go camping and Yes that is its real name. Obviously we did only go there so that we could say Okefenokee at the end of every sentence - "lets put up the tents" "Okefenokee", it never got old! Anyways it was absolutely beautiful. We rented a boat and went out onto the swamp where we saw hundreds (I literally mean hundreds) of alligators and turtles and all sorts of other cool creatures that you can't find in England. I highly recommend a trip if you happen to be in the area.

Onwards with the story. Asides from alligators, my parents had also warned my sister and I about bears. There were signs all around the camp site warning people to lock away all food in their cars and there were even bear-proof bins where we had to put any waste. As a precaution, my delightful father also informed my sister and I that it was Georgia State Law to carry special 'bear bells' when walking around the camp, especially at night. And so, of course, we wandered around shaking our bear bells completely oblivious to the strange looks/angry-for-disturbing-the-peace looks coming from the other happy campers and the fact that none of them were doing the same. Yep you guessed it, after two days we turned around to find the parents in absolute fits of hysterics at our gullibility. There wasn't really a threat of bears in such a busy area and I know there are some strange laws in America but wearing a bear bell is sadly not one of them.

From that day on it was a common story at the supper table in which both parents took great delight in humiliating both Hebe and I. But the story doesn't stop there. After hearing of my best friend's Izzie's fears of being attacked by a Muntjac (a small, and apparently vicious, deer) at her school my parents handed over the bell. Izzie no longer walked the creepy woodland path back to her dorm room at school in fear - she had her muntjac bell!

Daddy and his Bear/Muntjac/Taliban Bell

But no, the story doesn't stop there. In 2008 my dad was deployed to Afghanistan for the first of two six month tours and before he left Izzie returned the bell; it was now a Taliban Bell. Yes, I understand a bright, yellow, jingly bell probably wasn't the best deterrent but it was the thought that counts! AND it worked, he came back safe and sound and all in one piece so thank you mighty bear bell.

Anyways the reason that I am telling you this story is because while I'm here writing this blog the very same bear bell that you can see in the picture is hanging up behind me. So far it has been an earthquake, hurricane, tornado, snowstorm and now, ridiculous-work-load-bell. Don't fail me now!