Ringing from the trenches, guest post by southdowner
It all started so well. Sunday ringing, service ringing, is what bell ringing is FOR. It is the reason that bells were attached to ropes and we (well, I can’t take the credit here, but I am a member, if the least, of generations of campanophiles) began to work out mathematically organised knitting (Robin’s shown you the lines, and I know some of you knitters out there have taken to making socks out of them, which sort of proves the point…) umm, I mean the patterns which grown up ringers call methods and principles; I’m not letting them pull the wool over MY eyes – it’s knitting, and it’s only too easy to tie yourself in knots.
Come practice night and you can stand outside our tower and hear clanging aplenty – how else can we improve? But Service ring is sacred; we owe a duty to ring our best, and our Tower Captain only asks us to ring well within our competency on a Sunday.
So it’s Sunday again. As I reach the church car park several ringers loiter purposefully in the heat of a late summer afternoon. We straggle up the spiral stairs (and I spare a momentary thought for the agility in climbing while turning which I have acquired as a by product of ringing; it is a pretty non transferable skill [any suggestions?], but essential for bell ringing).
In our tower the bells are left in a down position , and need to be rung up in order to make music (hmm – it is still a matter of opinion whether ringing bells creates music… just ask some of the people who live next to bell towers). And ringing up, especially musically, in peal (that is, keeping in order) is a hard won skill (and in some cases never won at all!) Often only 6 of our 8 bells are rung up simultaneously on a Sunday as there might not be 8 ringers present who can be trusted to ring their own bell up AND stay in the right order of bells 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (called “rounds”) during the whole process.
I sit out the ringing up – I can think of few things currently more likely to cause me grief than attempting to ring up in peal. Bells up, the ringers tie the rope into the prescribed knots, making them safe – stray ropes have been known to cause burns, lift people several metres high and worse – and sit down. Jean looks around sizing up the strength of her team; her eagle eye alights on me and “treble to Grandsire” she cries.
I take my rope and wait for the rest of the band to be appointed, each taking hold of their rope ready for the off. “Look to, Treble’s going… and gone” (it’s usually called as “she’s gone”, and ringing for centuries was a solely male activity – draw your own conclusions…*) and we’re off in rounds. On the treble I’ve struggled for months now to get the precise speed at both hand and back stroke (hand stroke and back stroke together are called a “whole pull”), and now I start slowly but feel my way to what I think is a good speed within 3 whole pulls, trying to keep steady once I reach it. Ringing the treble as a learner feels a bit like riding a horse with your arms crossed and no bridle, or driving a car without holding the steering wheel… Arrrgggghhhh!
The treble leads the whole procession; it’s the 1 of 1,2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Ringing “between” two other bells gives you a snug place to be, and twice as much information about where you should be, in relation to each of your neighbours. On the treble you are out there on the prow of the ship and it can get lonely out there in stormy weather.
Today it all starts swimmingly – my speed is right, the ropes rise before my eyes in a clear order and my bell goes where I place it, without fighting me or falling out of the sky when I want to hold it up over much larger slower-rotating bells.
Counting places I work slowly to the back of the order, letting bells move ahead of me
12345678,**
12345678…
Finally I reach 7th place and turn for home, passing bells in the same order as going out but ringing faster to get back to the front place; when I’ve gone back into the lead I remember to slow up slightly and lead steadily. I spare a moment to feel pleased with myself, but not too long – I have so MUCH to think about, and not much time to spare.
Off again, a different order taking me up to 7th place, shorten my grip on my rope and quickly back to leading again. I’m enjoying this. And then it all goes pear-shaped. I look for a first bell rope to follow and see two – no time to hesitate, I ring steadily and then look for the next two bells. Eeek!! Another pair of ropes rise together and I try to remember to breathe and to ring steadily again, hand and back.
Only 2 more bells – these are considerate and separate themselves so I can follow first one and then the other. OK. I know where I am, I’m at the back, and though I know pairs to follow, I’m not sure which is first or second… which at this instant is making me very confused. I try looking at two bells at once, which just happen to be on my extreme right and my immediate left and keep ringing at what I hope is a good speed. (They never told me, but good peripheral vison and a supple neck are VITAL for bell ringing . )
Counting away to remember where I am (7, 6, 5 …) and “BOB” shouts the caller. Bobs (where most of the bells do a 3 point turn and swoop off in a new direction) are only called when the treble is about to reach 1st place, at the prow of the row of bells, and ready to lead.. Noooooooooo!!!!!
I’ve been good. I’ve counted, I’ve rung at the right speed, I haven’t even indulged in my favourite habit of dropping my rope (not to be emulated!); most important of all no one is shouting at me! I keep the faith and try to believe that I’m right, and I count down again (…4, 3…)
… and the world and its whippet shriek at the caller (..2, 1 ) Phew! Back to lead and start all over again. Things get worse, then the fog clears and I can see individual ropes again – a slight ruckus just before the end of the “Touch” (this is what a short piece of ringing which includes those 3 point turns is called) and we make it and back into rounds.
“Stand!!” and we all knot ropes and step away. I’m disappointed. Trebling to Grandsire isn’t a hard skill as ringing goes and I so want to ring “perfectly” – chimes which are balanced and equally struck; sounds which lift my heart. The captain (“Our Leader”) has a quick word with me about clipping the large bells and leaving too much space among the smaller bells and then it’s time for a different group to take hold for another method.
I stop at the end of ringing and wait until it’s only the captain and I. I have to ask her how I did. The answer is heartening – my speed was good, I kept ringing (this is a cardinal rule and is to be seen printed in LARGE capitals on many tower walls) and she explains that if all she has to tell me is about fine tuning of my bell placement that’s good news; best of all, it wasn’t me that went wrong and I rang well to stay in the right place despite some degree of chaos and disorder around me – “be positive” she cries with enthusiasm, “ringing takes YEARS!” – and I’m too old to wait that long – I may well expire before I reach the glories of Bristol and the grandeur of London – and I want want WANT to ring Wangaratta surprise major .
It will take me years to become a ringer – it will take me years and YEARS to get ropesight AND bell control AND memory AND rhythm AND listening skills co-ordinated, but I’m not sure whether it might take me even longer to remember what dyed in the wool ringers know – if no one says anything about your ringing, that’s high praise and you’ve done exceptionally well!!!!!***
* * *
* ringing is replete with “ooh err! missus!” phrases and expressions, which strike the beginner’s ear oddly; it seems to me a measure of bell immersion that these same phrases now run smoothly past the acoustic oddity-filter they were so recently snagged upon.
** and for those of you who like the full explanation, imagine Bell 1 moving to 7th place -
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
2, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
2, 3, 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8
2, 3, 4, 1, 5, 6, 7, 8
2, 3, 4, 5, 1, 6, 7, 8
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 1, 7, 8
2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 1, 8
- and that’s the simple version where none of the other bells move or swap places :)
*** ringer’s joke:-
1st ringer – “When I started ringing there would be a queue of 3 people waiting in line to tell me where I’d gone wrong once I finished”
2nd ringer “Only 3? You must have been ringing Minimus!”
(Guess how many ringers it takes to ring Minimus?)
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