I believe I have mentioned that fact that I live very close to a beautiful old church, so close in fact that there are graves within just a few feet of our house. The occupants of the graveyard give us no trouble at all, which is more than can be said of the bell ringers who inhabit, or should I say infest the twelfth century bell tower. In the normal course of events I must say that I have nothing what ever against the ringing of church bells, indeed, our peel is said to be one of the finest in the south east of England. Normally they practice on Tuesday morning and again on Friday night. Armed with this knowledge my son, who's working week commences on Monday night is able if he wishes to take a sleeping tablet and remain in blissful ignorance of the bell ringers prowess. Occasionally, however, and today was one of those occasions, they basely elect to ring on Monday mornings, honestly how low can you get? There I was happily kneading the days batch of bread dough when vwith a great clash they began to ring the changes. “Oh bother”. I said, “Oh blow and oh dear me”.
Well you know what I mean. I n not more than a few loud peels rumblings, creaking bed springs and genteel curses could be heard from upstairs, “A pox upon bell ringers and a plague take the lot of them!” You know the type of thing. They rang beautifully and without mercy for a full two hours,then broke for lunch. A blissful silence descended upon us all, like a blessing, and we gave fervent thanks to the Almighty. Before our gentle prayers had reached the pearly gates they began again and continued for a further two hours. History will not record the trenchant remarks and vehement abuse that rained down, or rather up on the heads of the unfortunate musicians. I do hope that none of the calumnies heaped upon them do any harm, or do I!
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