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Don't Eat With Your Mouth Full

Where can we live but days?

steepholm steepholm
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Summoned by Bells
Personally, I love the sound of church bells, perhaps because I was brought up hearing this lot every Sunday morning (services) and Wednesday evening (bell practice), as well as many Saturdays (weddings). Along with the smell of hops from the brewery, they were part of the sense-scape of my Romsey childhood.

My mother has a different relationship with them. At the age of 11 she was sent by her mother to live with her aunt in Wellington, Shropshire. This was so that she could attend Wellington High School, as her own mother had done; but she was terribly homesick, and after a year came back to Wales. In the meantime, the ringing of bells in the nearby church in Wellington became indissolubly linked in her mind with her own misery, and even now - more than 80 years later - she dislikes the sound.

In Romsey square this morning, it came home to me just how bloody loud they were. No one seems to mind; but a mosque calling the faithful at even a third of this volume would certainly bring complaints.

Click for the audio, and the noise/delightful music.

Romsey 22 July 2018

I love church bells. They make me think of my favourite bits of Britain.

I have cheerful memories of church bells. For many years I used to trot my horse down through the village on the Sunday morning - with her ironshod hooves ringing on the tarmac and the bells deafening as we passed the church...

That's a very pleasant image.