My very old maiden aunt ran the village shop.
It was normally very quiet, and she hung one of those "bell on a spring" alerts over the door, so she could go into the back kitchen to rest her old bones.
My brother and I attached a length of fishing line to the bell, then fed it over the top of the door so it it could be pulled from outside.
She must have come shuffling through to the shop about a dozen times, only to find no customers there.
When she finally twigged, her language was frightful to hear.
We made our own entertainment in them days.

