Half Day

It is Wednesday. The time is fast approaching 12 noon. Pedestrians quicken their pace whilst looking nervously around. Cars park haphazardly, on the road, on the footpath, and god help them, some even park on the cycle path!
The church bell rings.
DONG!
DONG!
DONG!
Home owners rush out and fasten the shutters on the windows of their homes.
DONG!
DONG!
DONG!
Worried mothers pick up their toddlers and look for a safe haven.
DONG!
DONG!
DONG!
Dogs whimper and scurry off, tails between their legs.
DONG!
DONG!
DONG!
A tumbleweed rolls down the unnaturally quiet street.
It's High noon.
School is finished for the day!
The doors open and hordes of children of all shapes and sizes come running out, cheering and laughing. Some run straight onto a waiting bus, where they cram themselves into every nook and cranny. The bus drives off, squashed faces pressing against the windows.
Some run to waiting cars, huge 4x4's, no doubt waiting to sprint across the open fields of Flanders. Others run to the local sweet shop to spend their pocket money on something sweet and sticky. The older kids ride like the wind to the local Colruyt, and shoppers groan in dismay as they see 20 or 30 bicycles stacked together in the car park, waiting for their owners.
It's impossible to walk on the footpath, dont even try to walk on the cycle path as the children ride 4 abreast and you can't even walk in the road because cars are suddenly discovering that they are blocked in by other cars and are too impatient to wait and so try to maneuver through the slightest gap.
Wednesdays are half days in Belgium. You have been warned!
A certain artistic licence was used in the writing of this post.