Going to bed early
I am going to bed early. Which is going to be a good trick, because it’s already late. It’s always late on a Friday (so to speak) because of bell practise. It’s August* and everyone’s on holiday, so practises are rather hit or miss lately, although I’m worrying that this area seems to be having a downturn in ringing numbers generally. They cancelled last week’s Wednesday practise, and that tower never cancels. And slow tool that I am I need my second practise a week. As well as my once-a-month third: and last Monday Niall and I were stiffed for the second month in a row** by that ringing master–or anyone else with a key to the bell tower–and I won’t be going back next month. Niall was happy, however, he got one of the other two would-be ringers in a head lock and dragged her home to ring handbells with him and me. Local handbell ringing is in even worse shape than local tower ringing.
I’ve recently realised that I’ve crossed one of those invisible boundaries. I am pretty much still in the category of Any Time on a Rope Is Good Time in terms of practise, and even the stuff I theoretically know still needs shoring up, but the stuff I’m really trying to learn now requires skilled support from the rest of the band. I can spend weeks, sometimes, never getting out of my comfort zone, because the available band, which is to say the people who showed up to ring, isn’t up to it–except that there is no comfort zone in ringing, you can always have a mental spasm and go wrong. And I frequently do.
Tonight we were only seven–which means ringing on six bells–and five of us, which is to say them, were some of our good ringers. When you’re the only wavery one the others can kind of straitjacket you in place. First we rang bob minor, which is one of the methods I should know, but I’m kind of out of practise–which is the other drawback to learning new methods; the fools and hopeless optimists around you expect you to remember what you’ve already learnt–so I was glad of the opportunity. Now the terrible, mind-rending, 3 am and sweating thing about bob minor is the Dreaded Three-Four Down Single, when you’re quietly coming down toward lead with a little, harmless three-four down dodge on the way, and the Evil Conductor calls a single. Calls make a mess, it’s what they’re for. So if you’re about to do a three-four down dodge in bob minor and Evil Conductor calls a single, you hang around in thirds place for two blows and then turn around and go up again. Trust me, this is horribly confusing, including the physical confusion of making a u-turn and going back the way you came. You ring a little differently going up (slower, because there’s one more bell coming between you and the front at each blow) and coming down (faster, because there’s one fewer bell, etc, as you all weave your way through the pattern), and while good ringers place their bell perfectly every stroke, for those of us who are not so good, momentum is also an issue with several hundred pounds of bell. And I had four three-four down singles in a row. I was preparing to stand my bell, leap across the room, and strangle Niall–who was conducting–when he called a fifth.*** Yes, all right, it was great practise. And I did get through all of them.
And then near the end Niall–who is ringing master in Edward’s absence–called for Grandsire. I dove–hopefully–for a rope, because Grandsire is slightly my bête noire–the method I’ve never really had the opportunity to learn properly but ought to know by now, by osmosis or something. The terrible horrible no good really bad call in Grandsire is a single when you’re making seconds, because then you have to make long thirds–four blows in thirds place–which come at you from a funny angle and then sort of duck and dive at you while you’re trying to balance in thirds place and it’s surprisingly hard to count to four. Which is one of the reasons double dodging (which you also do in Grandsire) is so gruesome–you can just about remember under, over, under (as you swap places and then back again with the bell you’re dodging with). . . but do you do it again or have you already done it again? It’s not like you have time to think, when you have two-thirds of a second to pull on your rope so your bell goes dong in the right place. There is only one right place and there are so many wrong ones . . . Anyway, this was a long touch with lots of calls and I galloped through any number of long thirds and came out the other end in the right place–good heavens, what am I doing here? At the end Roger, who had been conducting, complimented me. I don’t think he meant to sound surprised. . . .
But, speaking of bells and galloping, I have to go to bed early because I have a horse to ride tomorrow morning, followed by a wedding to ring at my Wednesday tower–because they’re so short handed they haven’t got enough locals–in the very early afternoon–having hurtled hellhounds first thing so they’ll let me. Usually after a walk they’ll crash out, but Chaos has taken to standing by the door gazing at me mournfully as I suit up to do something that does not involve hellhounds. Aaaugh. I’m already staying home for the next fifteen years on account of their undomesticated digestion, this dog cannot be making me feel guilty.
* * *
* Although you’d never know by the weather. It’s been RAINING AGAIN^ and while today has been a really beautiful day it’s been a really beautiful autumn day and everybody is putting their duvets back on their beds, except those of us who never took them off. I like to complain as much as the next person, and I feel pretty silly wearing wool in August, but if you’re asking me I’ll take chilly summers to hot ones any year. The hellhounds agree.
^ This is one of those towns that has a municipal hanging-basket system, where anyone who lives or has a shop front anywhere on the two main streets can hire a pre-planted hanging basket. You’re expected to do the deadheading, but The Man comes round with a tanker, and waters them. The tanker is this extraordinary little vehicle, about the size of half a Smart Car+ whose engine not only trundles it along but also pumps the water up through the hosepipe and thus into the short access pipe buried in every overhead basket. I love the nuts and bolts of things. Hanging flower baskets on Main Street are a great idea, very Town Pride . . . unless people forget to water them++ in which case they’re a very bad idea and will repel all those money-spending tourists every town wants.+++ Hence the motorised Gunga Din: he’d need shoulders like an Olympic shot putter if he didn’t have a pump, let alone an engine. You see him out there in all weathers, including torrential downpours. Um. I figured, okay, you’ve paid for your hanging basket and you’ve paid for it to get watered, so by golly it gets watered. But he says it’s not as silly as it looks: rain runs right off because the baskets are so densely planted.++++ Oh. They really are densely planted too. It’s perhaps slightly a pity however that they are densely planted in job lots of whatever was cheapest at the Hanging Basket Store. This year’s would have just about got away with the all available shades of pink, purple and blue colour scheme . . . till the scarlet geraniums on top started flowering. Ow, my eyes.
+ Not sure what they call them in the States. Those little half-length things that you can pull frontwards (or backwards) into a parallel-parking situation and have room for another one of you in the other half
++ Or go away on holiday and their neighbour forgets to water them
+++ Barring the odd curmudgeon living up a side street
++++ Well hurrah for carelessly home-planted hanging baskets that do get watered by rainfall.
** And a month ago it wasn’t even August
*** Note that the way methods fit together, every time a call is made, all the bits of work in that method have to be made by some bell. Some methods you can cushion a beginner a little more than others–my first quarter (peal) of bob minor, for example, Edward called around me so I never had to ring a Dreaded Three-Four Down Single. There are also various practise patterns where the poor suffering learner is made to ring The Thing She Fears Most over and over and over again. But in the ordinary free-for-all of a touch no one bell should be expected to ring the same beastly bit of work over and over and OVER again. But these things happen. Conducting is a total mystery to me^ but I have these visions (especially at 3 am) of bell geeks bending over bits of graph paper and cackling madly at the prospect of calling their next touch of Splendiferous Dork Major.
^ And I plan for it to remain that way
I am going to bed early.
*checks time* 8:30 here is… *counts on fingers* 1:30 for you.
…I guess that *could* be considered early to some people. (I mean, I’ll accept it, but I’ll also be the first to admit I have weird ideas about early and late.)
Go you on the bells! I love those invisible skill leaps. One day you couldn’t do it if someone paid you a million dollars, and the next day, bang! (And you’re wishing they’d offered the million dollars today. Hee.)
You’ll probably laugh, but I keep hearing about there never being enough ringers. Are there ever too many? What if you got extras and they didn’t have enough bells? *waiting for mad laughter…*
You take turns. Happens all the time. Except for an *event* like a wedding or a quarter peal when it’s arranged and someone is in charge of getting the specific number of ringers to ring a specific thing, people just show up for practises or ‘outings’ (when you visit a series of towers). And you ring what you can ring given the ringers you’ve got.
Yes, I would like the million dollars . . .
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I do love your comedy posts -
****** I am going to bed early.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! (gasping) hahahahaha!
(as someone who has regular early bedtimes (evil grin)
OH STICK IT IN YOUR EAR. And set fire to it. :)
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Is this a strange rural Hampshire custom? Sounds more Hopi than Hampshire to me lol
WHAT IS?
Sorry!
******** OH STICK IT IN YOUR EAR. And set fire to it. :)
**Is this a strange rural Hampshire custom? Sounds more Hopi than Hampshire to me lol
And since then you’ve had two early nights! Are you feeling virtuous? Hopefully less tired :)
EARLY NIGHTS? ARE YOU KIDDING? I just talk a good line. . . .
I do hope you’re tucked away safely and dreaming of Connie.
Fascinating about the town organizing the watering of hanging baskets and the planting etc.
Many years ago in Chepstow I watched a man with tanks of water mounted on a donkey’s back doing the hanging basket watering thing. It was very early in morning, otherwise I might have been ready with a camera. Of course a donkey can stand on the sidewalk and even go up stairs, which in a place as steep as Chepstow has its advantages … old tech wins another round.
Smart cars have very recently appeared here in Philadelphia. The few I’ve seen fit your description. Sounds like the same car to me.
OT - have you read this: http://news.bookweb.org/news/6220.html (scroll down toward the bottom)
Zowie! Thank you!
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****I was preparing to stand my bell, leap across the room, and strangle Niall–who was conducting–when he called a fifth****
Are these patterns consistent from one time to the next, or does the ringing master work out new ones based on some organizing principle (as one might say rhyme and meter in a sonnet), or–truly frightening thought–do they sometimes *improvise*?
****this dog cannot be making me feel guilty****
As if you don’t know *that*’s a piece of wishful thinking. Making some two-footed individual feel guilty is one of a dog’s best things! :)
I hope you succeeded in going to bed early. I never seem to manage that, even when I try to; I think I’ve lost the knack.
Oh dear. Maybe I should post about this, except that everyone but you will probably run away screaming. :) It’s all MATHS. Therefore for things to WORK OUT, which in this case means that the bells come back to ’rounds’ (which is in order, 1-2-3-4-5-6-however many bells from smallest to biggest), there are only CERTAIN series of calls for individual patterns that will work. There are a lot of other rules too . . . but there are books of ‘touches’; and yes, conductors sometimes invent their own. Niall isn’t all that interested (his thing is handbells) but Edward sometimes writes his own touches.
. . . I know, I know. Now tell me why guilt-susceptible people WANT dogs.
GO TO BED EARLY?? The impossible dream. Even posting it didn’t make it happen.
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****Maybe I should post about this, except that everyone but you will probably run away screaming. :) It’s all MATHS.****
An awful lot of years ago, Isaac Asimov wrote one of his science columns in F&SF about (I think) factorials, using change-ringing as the springboard. I knew that there isn’t anything random about ringing, but it would make a difference (to me, anyway), if the calls were invariably the same for a given method, or if your ringing master was sort of Bach of bell-ringing who’d write a new touch every month or so just to keep things interesting.
****Now tell me why guilt-susceptible people WANT dogs.****
Beats me. ;)
good lord. **I want that column.** I wonder if it’s collected anywhere? I should post to one of the change ringing sites. Change ringers are geeks with a capital G; someone will know. . . .
Evidently I haven’t even explained it THAT much. No, there are MANY different possible touches, which is to say series of calls, to individual methods–the more bells and the more complicated the method, the more possibilities. One of the perennial mistakes everyone makes in ringing is anticipating the next call . . . which then doesn’t come or is something else.
**** **I want that column.** ****
It would have been in the sixties sometime, I think, and I don’t know whether his F&SF columns were ever collected. I have a lot of F&SF from back then on a shelf and after we get back from GETTING THE PUPPY I’ll try to remember to take a quick look through them. If I put a nice bright sticky note in the book room–which is also where I do some laundry stuff, so it gets visited for more than reading material–I will get to it at some point. God bless the man who invented sticky notes, I hope 3M gave him a nice percentage of the money they’ve made off of them.
Yes please! And you are definitely getting the puppy then? YAAAAAY. does he have a name yet? (Other than a Weird Registered Name.)
“I’m already staying home for the next fifteen years on account of their undomesticated digestion, this dog cannot be making me feel guilty.”
Oh yes, he can. Children and pets believe, most righteously, that they are the designated recipient of all twenty five hours in a day. Any activity that does not involve them, including sleep is treason. You weren’t aware of this? ;)
I keep looking for ways to weasel out . . .
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“Oh yes, he can. Children and pets believe, most righteously, that they are the designated recipient of all twenty five hours in a day. Any activity that does not involve them, including sleep is treason. You weren’t aware of this? ;)”
—– Oof! Definitely feeling this one tonight! My borrowed-for-two-weeks kitty (catsitting while her human is gone) feels that I am by rights her new night-time body pillow. Which I wouldn’t mind so much except that it wakes me up when she jumps on the bed (which is several feet off the ground, so it shakes), or steps on me, or starts nuzzling my face EVERY MORNING at 6:45 a.m. (not as bad as it could be most days, since I get up at 7ish when I’m working, but incredibly annoying on my days off….). Tonight her latest thing was that if I was moving, then that must mean I was wanting to be pounced on, right? I’m already having a tough time sleeping because it’s so hot here — in the 80s and 90s* — and being half awake** and thus slightly restless was NOT working for both of us. So now that the kitty has pushed me towards a much more comprehensive level of alertness I decided to just turn the computer on and play for a little while. Meanwhile, she apparently felt she had completed her mission because she’s curled up in an innocent-looking sleeping ball at the foot of my bed. What do you want to bet that she’ll wake up right as I turn out the lights again?
* This is NOT okay. I moved back to the Seattle-Tacoma area partially to AVOID this kind of heat.^
^ Although as far as sleeping goes I shouldn’t be able to complain. My room is in the basement, which stays fairly cool year-round. Right now as I type I’m feeling the need for a sweatshirt (which I didn’t grab because I’ve been too warm and it’s nice to be cold for a bit). My housemates, who have their bedrooms on the upstairs floor, have been having a much harder time of it than me. I’m STILL feeling my body be thrown off by the slight change in temperature.
** Having come off of heat- and exhaustion-induced nightmares where I was at the zoo trying to sleep and then feeling guilty because I was laying down on the job and not talking to visitors as I was supposed to. I had to wake up all the way to realize that it really was okay for me to be asleep right now.
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There is a church with a tower within walking distance of me and I’m beginning to wonder about wandering down. It’s just I don’t know how long we’re going to be here (renting) and I wouldn’t want to take on something that would then become a hassle if we move away again. Hm.
Oh my. Who knew bell-ringing could be so dangerous?!
http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,24195606-421,00.html
;) Please don’t try this Robin - the hellhounds will drive you nutty if you do! LOL
It does happen. It happened here (here-ish, southern England anyway) recently. Someone got the rope caught round his belt buckle, he was jerked off his feet and dropped. And emergency had the same hell of a time getting him out. EVERYTHING is dangerous. There was an article a couple of years ago about Fear of Ringing with all this hushed solemn psychobabble and it gave most of us ringers a sharp pain in the patootie.
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