I have been out and about ringing because when a local ringing association takes the trouble to organise something, it is polite to attend, rather then say "nah – too busy, not interested". Unless of course you are not remotely interested in association-wide practices, in which case do not complain that nothing is ever offered and then question what you get for your princely investment of £15 per annum. I did not particularly want to learn to plain hunt on a wet Saturday afternoon, but I do want to maximise rope time in a real tower, rather than on training bells, and with an experienced band. Currently, I spend a lot of time ringing on training bells or with a novice band, and the one tower where I do attend regularly, which is neither novice nor noddy bells, has got into my head to such an extent that I have no confidence that I can even ring rounds without disgracing myself. I need exposure to other bells without a back-story of disappointment after disappointment.
So along I went, despite numerous negative voices in my head telling me that I would not be able to manage. The last time I went to that tower for the afternoon, I had struggled mightily. It was a few weeks before lockdown, an extremely stormy afternoon and the bells had rather defeated me. A long draught with ropes snaking in an uncomfortable fashion in my inexpert hands. They required firm handling and firm handling I do not have. I remember the sallies as resembling over-sized poisonous caterpillars, but in fact they are perfectly conventional red/white/blue and not even a little on the plump side. My memory is of a scary afternoon and a scary drive home through 60mph winds, and lashing rain in the dark. It took a deal of self-motivational talk to risk a second visit because my handling is worse now that it was 3 years ago and my confidence is similarly diminished. As I neared the village, cold darts of fear prickled my body and if I could have come up with an adequate excuse to turn tail I would have done.
However, I am glad that I did not because the installation of additional rope guides in the intervening period has made a world of difference. What I remember as wild ropes, are no longer. They behaved nicely and once I got over my initial terror and trusted my hands to do what they needed to do, I was able to ring them without anxiety. Since that was the purpose of my visit I scored it as a success, even if others thought my hunting to the front was too slow and that I needed to take in rope more readily.
The bell-shaped short bread biscuits were exceptionally good and I feel much more positive about the fact that I have agreed to ring today at a local tower where the sallies are a delightful shade of apple green and the bells sweet but flighty. Thanks to yesterday, I reckon I can manage, so did not lose a night's sleep regretting that I had agreed to turn up.
All it took was a little guidance in the form of a large metal halo and some holes , and a kind person pointing out that I was attempting to catch the sally with 2 fingers of my left hand and that was unlikely to be successful. As for the poisonous caterpillars, I have no idea where they came from or where they have disappeared to.
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