On Tuesday 15th of May 1973 a 15 year old lad meandered up the hill from his home to the Parish Church. The building was familiar to him as he had “sung” in the choir there since 1964. His cassock and surplus, ruff and RSCM medallion were stored on one tatty metal hanger in the robe cupboards at the back but they wouldn’t be making an appearance tonight

It was just before 7 pm and he negotiated the heavy doors of the north porch with ease and familiarity. The smell of the building, that was forever present and never changing, wafted gently and reassuringly around him to give a warm and comforting familiarity. Facing him was the ancient Norman font. To his left stood the creaky old, now long gone organ, the console hemmed in with dusty blue curtains peeped through by the organist on a Sunday. The chancel stood beyond with its rare window portraying Christ at his crucifixion without a beard.

Turning right he followed the dark Victorian pews up to the towers vestry door and looked up to see a few familiar faces on the balcony above. He crossed the uneven floor that hides the Victorian marble full immersion Baptistry and clambered up the short wooden staircase. He remembered to [quote]” start with the correct foot or you will run out of stairs before you get to the top” unquote.

There were the 8 ropes, a small green cupboard, a bench across the west window and a chiming frame on the north wall. Wooden boards adorned the room listing names of the mainly long gone and the performances they undertook. Little did he know that he would meet and ring with some of them and learn the history of the lives of others? The arch opening sported a flimsy brass rail making it “safe” though those with a fear of heights might disagree.

Most of the evening was a bit of a blur. A number of inquisitive teenagers turned up and the Tower Captain rang a bell up and down to familiarise them with the basic mechanics, giving each a touch of a rope to feel it swing gently back and fore safely. The lad was given the third bell rope and he cautiously pulled downwards and felt the sudden resistance that the reverse motion had emanated, just like a child’s swing in the park. Although he couldn’t explain it something had awoken in him and after 3 or 4 lessons “on the backstroke” he was hooked.

It’s May 2023 and fifty years have passed. The boy has grown up now and lived his life so far with ringing making a major contribution

He reflects on that first bell ringing lesson he had as a youngster after being asked the question “what makes bell ringing such a fascinating hobby?” If only we could transfer the answer by telepathy. It can be summed up by the phrase “when you know, you’ll know.”

As 50 year old Abba would put it:

So I say thank you for the methods, and the lines that need learning.
Thanks to all the towers I have rung in.
Ringers understand it when I ask in all honesty,
what would life be?
without a Diagrams Book who are we?
So I say thank you to the Ringers,
who’ve been there just like me.

Andrew Giles

Celebrating 50 years of ringing. https://bb.ringingworld.co.uk/view.php?id=1628424