You want me to write about which weekend?
But, but, but....!!
You think 'a non-bellringers' impression would interest people?
But I can't remember anyone's names...
You think people will recognise the descriptions..?
If I must then... Here goes…
There was always something missing in my lif...
(no that's terrible, no one's going to buy that!)
One of the things I'd always wanted to know more about...
(nahhh, they may be bellringers, but they're not daft)
Barton Village Hall was next to a pub. This is where I found
them. They looked like a normal bunch of people of mixed age and
abilities, but on talking to some of them I could that see they
were 'special.'
I soon found myself speaking to a man who was interested in
information technology. And there was a woman on a stool by the
bar, who was apparently best friends with all the men in Welsh
Colleges, who was so friendly that I didn't get to talk to the
woman behind her very much at all.
Were these typical of their kind? My preconceptions of
bellringers had led me to expect calluses, dust and knitwear. Of
people not able to join in with sexier past times due to
obsessive piety. But there were no woolly jumpers in sight. In
fact, the talk was so rarely of 'methods' and 'peals,' I began to
question whether I was in the right pub. Finally, flush with the
thrill of it all I sped off into the night, my breath bated for
the following day's AGM and dinner.
Is this the sort of thing you wanted Percy?
The 2001 Annual General Meeting of the Welsh Colleges Bellringers
was funnier than I'd dared imagine. Though I generally failed to
laugh at the same time as other people, this was surely down to
over-keenness on my part brought on by the tension of the affair.
Percy, the man who was up for new Master, who'd bought me a pint
the night before, said I could vote for him if I wanted. This
told me all I needed to know about the selflessness of ringers.
The meeting did not drag on and I distinctly remember finding all
the voting-in of people who didn't really want to be voted for in
the first place, jolly interesting. But not being all that keen
on committees myself, I did wonder whether bellringing could
really be the hobby for me. But as this was all before the
evening's speeches and dancing, I decided to keep an open mind.
At the dinner I met more Bellringers. These ones were dressed
better and masked their sorrow at not being at the AGM very well
indeed (being able to say 'I was there' lent me a certain kudos I
thought, though no one commented on it)
Penny, the outgoing master, 'drank with' all manner of bizarre
types, which I later discerned was a jokey way of toasting the
under-privileged members of the group.
A man gave a speech, someone said Shhhuuussshhh! to another man
and everyone had a lovely time. In fear of coughing at an
inopportune moment I kept my throat well lubricated throughout
the speeches and am in consequence unable to add much more to
this account.
The village hall floor upon which I later came to rest however,
did succeed in making an impression.
I over-heard the new Romance Officer say the next day that I
enjoyed myself very much and would gladly come again.
PS. Still a little unclear where the ringing of bells comes into
it?
Tim Bull