Bong Time

It all started when Bonnie and I were driving around Switzerland. She was amazed and delighted with the agrarian wonderland before us, full of verdant valleys, blue lakes and towering mountains. One thing that she found charming was the constant chorus of cow bells as the cows moved around the pastures.

As we were driving along she suddenly said “stop right here”. I did, as it was a country road with no traffic and stone walls on each side. Bonnie climbed over the wall out of my view until I got out of the car and found her kneeling in front of a massive bull complete with his bell, taking his picture. I thought kneeling in front of two or three tons of beef on the hoof was a little reckless and got her back over the wall. Later that day I bought her a cow bell as a momento which has hung ever since over our bar.

My brother Fred, your great uncle, came to visit while he was working in Houston for about six months. He was tickled by the story and rang the bell each evening to announce that it was time for cocktails. He said it was “Bong” time. Unfortunately he passed away almost three years ago and so we ring the bell at 5pm to remember Fred, a very large bull who started this, and of course pour a Martini.