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» The Fossil
KNELL DESPERANDUM
The Frome Fossil
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“V olunteers needed to help ring the church bell in honour of the late Queen. Meet up at 11.45. PS Does anybody know how to ring a bell?” Thus ran the slightly desperate message to villagers. I pitched up – as I thought - on the dot, lugging my own share of campanological ignorance, but the church was empty and the bell rope hung limp and forlorn. Well, we are largely a community of heathens and pagans here, so the lack of attendance wasn’t surprising. What’s more, the vicar has just resigned and the churchwarden was away on a (much-needed) silent retreat.
I pottered out into the churchyard to look for life in any form. And there in the distance was the lone Hardyesque figure of Glyn, raking up grass around the tombs. No, he hadn’t seen anyone either, and knew nothing at all about bell ringing. Not having a watch, I asked him the time. He waved his bare wrist at me. There was no choice but to go and have a toll myself. It all turned out to be pretty simple. After a few cautious tugs of the rope, I got into the swing, and clanged away solemnly for five minutes. Then I stopped and listened: still not a soul about. So I tiptoed out, feeling slightly guilty. And there, marching up the path, was a gaggle of eager ringers. I had been early; they were on time. Back in we went. But now there was a whole new problem – should the bell be muffled to mark the weighty occasion? If so, how did you go about it? Someone had brought along a pair of thick woolly socks for the job, but uncertainty still reigned. Then we found that the tower door was locked anyway. We rummaged about for the key, but it wasn’t in the vestry or under the organist’s seat. So the muffling idea was dropped.
This meant we could at last get on with the job of ringing. We took turns, sitting in the choir stalls, bathed in blue and red sunbeams from the windows, and nattering while we waited. Others rolled up as the hour went on – so many in fact that the final ringer got barely thirty seconds before the stint was up (at least someone knew the time). Then we all went home, chuffed with our performance and yearning for more. What a pity that our church, like Hitler, has only got one bell.
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