Hello folks
Hello folks, Robin’s second American guest here.
Robin was kind enough to pick me up at the station despite my having called her Tuesday night to say I’d be in at 3:30….. then again today to tell her I’d missed my train from Bangor and the subsequent re-routing of my ticket would result in my arriving at 5:30, not 3:30….then AGAIN from the platform in London to say I’d managed to catch a slightly earlier train on the last leg and I’d be arriving at 5. I wouldn’t have blamed her a bit if she’d just left me on the platform awaiting a return train. But she did pick me up, and didn’t throw me out of the car in retribution for all the time changes, and I’ve arrived more or less intact.*
As it happened, the late arrival meant that I’m in turn staying longer than originally planned. This led to two consequences; one you’re reading right now–I get to guest blog. Huzzah! And two, I got to go to Wednesday bell practice.
Do you play bridge? Because I don’t, and yet I sometimes read the bridge column in the paper for my own amusement just because it’s such complete gibberish–dummies and ruffles and clubbing your spades and all that kind of thing. Trying to follow what was going on in change ringing, beyond “Hmm, these people appear to be ringing some bells,” is similarly utterly indecipherable to the unindoctrinated. The ringing master keeps shouting out what seem like completely random words and phrases, and despite my best efforts to pay attention I only had a slightly better grasp of what he was talking about after than I did before. I did know, from reading Robin’s blog, that the ringers follow one another, and that who they follow relates to what pattern they’re ringing. So I decided to watch the fellow across from where I was sitting and see where he was looking. This turned out to be more of a challenge than I’d anticipated, as that particular fellow had a slight cast in one eye and I couldn’t for the life of me tell who he was actually looking at. So that was a wash. But the extreme high point was getting to climb up into the tower and see the bells themselves (you can’t from where they’re ringing, the ropes go right up into the ceiling) and then having a go at pulling a rope myself. Wild Robert was kind enough to run me through the basic parts of ringing a huge-ass bell, and it was pretty fabulous if I do say so. Next time I’ll have to show up for sacred home tower practice on a Friday. Though next time I might just have to abandon the train and hire a car….**
* * *
* This is the POLITE version. I got this email from her like ten days ago saying, hi, I’m coming to England this week, want to meet up? And I’m: yo, woman, you couldn’t have given me WARNING? Naah. Warning wasn’t in the plan.^ Blah. Phooey. So, she says she wants to experience some bell ringing. We can do this. She’s going to be in this area on Wednesday, and I ring bells every Wednesday at the same tower, so they have to be glad to see me and be nice to anyone I bring even if my visitor lives four thousand miles away and is never going to be anyone they can ask to ring that wedding when all the local band are in Bermuda. So I say, great, stay over Wednesday night, I’ll take you to practise. But noooooo. She doesn’t have time to stay overnight . . . grrrrrr . . . let it be known that I do not take it well when I am teased about bell ringing. So, okay, she’s going to be here about four hours, we’ll have tea, hang out, whatever. And then I’ll put her back on the train and make rude gestures as it pulls out of the station. And then I’ll go bell ringing.
I got back from walking the hellhounds this morning to a message on my phone machine that she’d missed her train and er um not only is she getting in late but she’s going to have been on a train for a very long time–apparently the rerouting was via Edinburgh–and er um was that offer of a bed overnight still good? Er um.
At this point I looked vacantly into the middle distance for a moment with a grisly little smile and contemplated my options. After running through a few of the more extreme ones I decided the one that appealed to me the most was to say suuuuuure, I’ll give you a bed for the night (I might even throw in supper if you behave) but (a) you have to come to bell practise with me and (b) you have to GUEST BLOG. After all, the new rule is that anyone who stays overnight has to guest blog. Mwa ha ha ha ha.
^ Plan? There was a plan?
** Next time you’d better give me BETTER WARNING or there will be SERIOUS TROUBLE.
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If I ever come to Hampshire, can I go to your change ringing too?
Just kidding. That’s a little bit frazzling, I can see.
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Hi! Guest bloggers welcome here :)
I hope you’ve recovered from what sounds a horrendous journey, without Robin being TOO evil ;) (there seem to be a lot of “Mwahahaha” s recently – should we all be fleeing to the hills?)
I sort of guessed that bell ringing would be fast and incomprehensible to the uninitiated, so it’s rather nice to have it confirmed; it still sounds like fun tho, a bit like a galloping horse when you’ve just mastered rising trot…
Good luck with your journey tomorrow (sending good train-timetable vibes)
A gallop is a DODDLE if you can *post.* Posting is EVIL. :)
**Should** you all be fleeing to the hills???
(I poured a bottle of fine British cider into her. I think she’s recovering. :))
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Posting IS evil! Sore horse, rider staying put by luck – both desperate for the agony to end – a nice brisk gallop feels like floating with urgency, much nicer :)
Cider, a cure for most woes. Can she still see straight? How big was the bottle;)
Yes, I’m running for the hills – Glastonbury! and rain forecast all weekend haha! Just spent all day ferrying dogs and cats to friends so that they can have lovely hols while we get plastered in mud in a tent… (scratching head) something’s back to front here lol
It’s REQUIRED to rain for Glastonbury–it was in the contract King Arthur signed with God!!!
Hello, Second American Friend! Sounds like you’re having fun. *grin*
I do like this rule about staying overnight with Robin and repaying her by guest blogging.
Next time you’d better give me BETTER WARNING or there will be SERIOUS TROUBLE.
No supper? No hellhound-admiring? Must pinch your nose as you walk by the roses so you don’t get to smell them? Gosh, Robin! You’re so mean! ;)
You’re so mean! ;)
**** Yes, yes! This is my DESTINY! Being MEAN!!
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Just as long as you write books for me to read, I’ll forgive you! *giggle*
I’m probably safe then . . . I hope . . . :)
Probably. <3
Well, being safe… you’ve got a fairly large body of water between you… I think there’s some leeway ;p
I like this guest blogger, Robin(: Amusing and erudite… Please invite her back for more guest appearances!
And it’s a very good thing she missed her train! It’s that good karma working for you.
Guest Blogger said “Huzzah!” about posting–she DID make a good recovery from coping with the trains. Bells and cider must have terrific regenerative power!
Yes they do, you poor sad American who can’t easily get either one. :)
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Untrue, forsooth! Cider has become very available in the states; the popular brand is a Vermont bottler called “Woodchuck” who makes a standard, a pear cider, and a nice tart Granny Smith variety….
Really? Well, I’m eighteen years out of date. It used to be this whole *quest.* I’m still looking for a good perry, even over here.
Woodchuck’s pear is really pretty nice; you’ll have to seek it out the next time you’re over. Cider’s big here in the sort of microbrew set. Even some of the English brands, like Strongbow, are becoming widely findable. And mead is starting to pop up on wine lists too, especially if there’s a local winery giving it a try. (I can’t stand the stuff–mead that is–so can’t attest as to the quality of the local bottles.)
“I did know, from reading Robin’s blog”
Uh-oh, all your friends are reading your blog too? Welcome friend. Robin, you must be so glad to be limiting yourself to hellhounds, gardening, weather, Peter, bell-ringing, books, cooking, ME, vagaries of traffic and joys of chocolate. Do you have time for anything else in your life? Currently I am spending too much time watering plants and cleaning pigeon shit off the back balcony.
HORSES. COMPOSING. You just *aren’t* keeping *up*.
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Too right. I am trying to live my own life and not spend as much time Peeping Tomming around yours. Also have made slight inroads on my magazine piles. (I mean slight unfortunately, but twenty less, is twenty less).
I’m sitting here, fingering my passport (used for only one trip so far) and dreaming of bells and hell hounds…. But I have a garden this year that I’m trying to ‘do my best by’, so I’ll just have to dream.
Tell your friend thanks for the post.
WandaV in AL