Back in my previous incarnation in England and when I was in my early 20s I occasionally pulled ropes and rang church bells. In fact I nearly ended my life as a result when a bellrope came off the bellwheel and snaked around my neck. Fortunately someone behind me (not ringing a bell) saw it and got the rope away from my neck before it was pulled up again by the weight of the bell. Such occurrences are infrequent but can have dire consequences. "Hung by the Church Bell" does not look good on a church gravestone.
My wife to be was a proper campanologist.
Next to the church which we attended (and in which we were married) was a hostelry aptly known as The Ring'O Bells. There in 'Ernie's Snug' we gathered after ringing for a pint or two of best bitter.
Yes, please do!! ... I did not know you used ring church bells! Whenever I hear of bellringing, in British context, I always think of Dorothy Sayers' mystery novel The Nine Tailors, involving change ringing instructions used as a cipher. I don't think I ever fully managed to understand it, but the "idea" of it has stayed in my memory anyway...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Monica. Bell ringing only occupied a few years of my life because not long agter my wife and I married we moved away from the area and had children.
DeleteI do love the sound of church bells. I often hear them practicing here when the wind is blowing in the right direction. Xx
ReplyDeleteRung well, Jules, the bells make a wonderful sound. Conversely........
DeleteYou know, it is really good to reflect on the past. There are some who construe it as old farts remembering what once was and never will return, but I think that over simplifies the experience. I know that my daughter is always happy to hear of her dad’s experiences and treasures the time spent together in my reminiscences and her vicarious enjoyment of them. Often, it is she who initiates the conversation. Any time you wish to wander down the leafy lanes of yesteryear, Graham, I will be happy to join you in the ramble. We are of the same vintage and doubtless have much to chew the fat on together. Best wishes - David
ReplyDeleteDavid, I recall a teenager calling me (albeit in a friendly manner) a boring old fart when I was in my late twenties or early thirties and I never recovered.
DeleteGruesome to go that way! Good your life was saved!
ReplyDeleteYour blogging again will be nice.
May aka SaltyPumpkin
May, it would have been very unpleasant and I'd have been very upset to have missed what has been a very rewarding half century plus since.
DeleteIt is an excellent idea to have a pub next a church, and it's a fine lookin pub. I guess such places have had to reinvent themselves to keep their appeal to newer generations. I am referring to the pub of course. Churches began reinventing themselves far too late to keep up with modern society.
ReplyDeleteMany old churches in England have the 'village pub' very near at hand. It made for a good community. I'm old enough and fortunate enough to be able to recall those times.
DeleteThe Ring'O bells is a very handsome building.
ReplyDeleteIndeed, Red and they have not been allowed to alter the basic exterior although there are sympathetic additional building now.
DeleteBell ringing followed by a drink and a chat sounds like fun!
ReplyDeleteKylie, it was fun plus great companionship.
DeleteI haven't been to my 'local' for over a year. The price of beer has become prohibitive, and, like you, I prefer to stay home with a glass of wine. Sadly, even the wine has been side-lined for the moment.
ReplyDeleteCro, I live over 7 miles from town and the nearest pub. It' over half a century since I had a pint with the lads on a Friday night.
DeleteI would love to hear more of your old memories. That sounds like a very sudden scary experience, lucky your wife was there to help.
ReplyDeleteAmy, given the fact that I was born with a forgettory rather than a memory it might be a good idea if I did write some now. Just for the record it wasn't actually my wife who saved me it was another bellringer who wasn't actually standing out at that round.
DeleteGood grief! Campanology seems to be a perilous pastime! Almost like racing in the Isle of Man TT races.
ReplyDeletePS: It is good to see you back here, Graham.
JayCee, campanology is not actually very dangerous statistically. However, accidents can be both unpleasant and fatal as in many occupations.
DeleteI live close to a church and love the sound of the bells, even though here in Germany I don‘t know of a single one where the bells are not rung mechanically (or electronically) by clockwork. You would never find the people do commit to the task. In England, I know bell ringing is a big thing. In Ripon, the bell ringers practice at the cathedral every Wednesday, and if you want to meet them, all you have to do is go to The Water Rat afterwards, where they meet for a pint or two.
ReplyDeleteMeike, I think you are very fortunate. In the Island's churches (and possibly in Scotland generally) bells are not rung in changes as in England and Wales but are simply 'tolled' ie rung as a single monotonous bell.
DeleteYou had a lucky escape. The memory must give you shivers.
ReplyDeleteMemories should be shared - that's how we learn and remember important things
Janice, the incident happened nearly 60 years ago but I can remember it as if it were last week and it does make me shudder.
DeleteAn interesting story and I'm glad you survived to tell it, Graham!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Ellen. I'm very pleased too!
DeleteI also love the sound of church bells. Thank you for sharing your experience, and I am really glad you are okay, Graham. Warm greetings from a 68 year old retiree living in Montreal, Canada. I hope you continue to blog and share your life and stories.
ReplyDeleteThank you for visiting and commenting, Linda. I shall pop over.
DeleteThose great pubs of our younger days have been either closed or gentrified. Where do you go for a game of dominoes?
ReplyDeleteI played dominoes a lot as a youngster and still play occasionally with friends. But the days of the clatter of dominoes in the pubs are, certainly here, long gone.
DeleteI like the little stories from bygone days. It is why I read blogs!
ReplyDeleteThat's as good a reason as any, Debby.
DeleteI suspect that if you down a few pints of best bitter, the memories will come flooding back. It is well-known that wine pickles the brain.
ReplyDeleteIn which case, YP, I doubt that any amount of best bitter will help me!
Deletereminds me of the time i was cycle racing on a circuit at Hengrove park Bristol where they used to do vehicle aided parascending in the middle of the 1km circuit. In evitably one time as the rope came down after aiding the accent of the paracender, it came over the circuit we were racing on and dropped round my neck. I manged to push it down somewhat as it pulled across but I still have scars on my arms some 50 years later. I seem to recall my adrenaline flowed somewhat as I finished the race,
ReplyDeleteHeavens above, Andrea, that must rate amongst the scariest moments of your life.
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