The churchbells are broken. In French, we say ‘Déglangué’ which is slang for broken. You pronounce it ‘Day-Glang-Gay’ which is a fun word to say, and even sounds like what it is – completely screwed up.
The result is the bells ring all day and night, every hour and half hour. But the clock is off, so that it says 6:00 when it’s 8:28 for example, and so you can’t tell time by the bells or the clock – but they woke me up all night and I’m wiped out.
Actually, I slept through most of the bells, but at 5 a.m. I heard them and shot out of bed, thinking my alarm hadn’t gone off and thinking my son had missed his train and my daughter her bus. So I’m staggering around at 5 a.m. trying not to wake hubby, and I grab my alarm clock to see what’s the matter, and I see it’s only 5 a.m., and I’m afraid I said a bunch of Very Bad Words – not including déglangué. I tried to go back to sleep, but just knowing the damn bells were going to ring again in half an hour kept me wide awake. Of course now I’m falling asleep on my keyboard and the five pages I promised myself to write are still in my head.
Argh.
I need more sleep and more coffee!
And then as soon as the town hall opens, I’m storming over there to let off a bit of steam (politely, of course) and threaten dire action if the bells are not put under control. (still in a polite tone of voice – and with a smile – but maybe a hint of hysteria too.) LOL.

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