Keeping the Score

Last week I trailed my diary for the coming days; I can now report back.  I mentioned my plans to join friends on Saturday for the annual autumn ringing outing.  Unlike the ill-fated visit to Warwickshire in the spring (where I tripped and fell after lunch, causing some weeks of discomfort), this was an unqualified success.  We had gloriously sunny weather and the pub where we had lunch was conveniently close to the church with good food and good service.  Even the challenge posed by the bells themselves didn't defeat us.  The first ring were a bit heavy for some of us but, as the day progressed, we found lighter bells that were more welcome.

At our weekly practice before the outing, my friend Bob had suggested that I might like to revise some of the compositions that he knew I had conducted in the past ... although recently, with our efforts being geared to teaching new ringers, I had not been called upon in this way.  He planned to invite me to do so at some point on our outing.

Now, on five bells (with the sixth and heaviest bell keeping time at the end of each change), 120 possible sequences, or changes, can be rung.  There are many different patterns in which this can be achieved; each different pattern is called a method.  In their simple form most methods only provide 30 or 40 of these sequences, and to obtain the full 120 changes, known as an extent or, in the older parlance, a 'six-score' requires a number of alterations in the pattern, which is where the conductor comes in.

Bob had spoken of an ancient method that we ring called Grandsire, of which there are ten different ways that the six-score can be achieved, some more complex than others.  It was one of these more complex compositions that I had revised and prepared.  I was, I admit, apprehensive about doing this, having been out of practice for so long.  In fact, I'm not sure that I have ever successfully called this particular composition in the past.  I confess that I was therefore pleased to have a band of strong ringers around me to achieve the feat this time.

Easby Abbey, North Yorkshire

I also mentioned last week my planned attendance at the funeral of a 95-year-old friend.  This, too, was blessed with fine weather, despite a forecast of rain spreading from the west.  As was expected, the formalities included reminiscences from family members, son, daughter and grandchildren and all was executed without a hitch.  I diverted slightly from my 200-mile return journey to visit a nearby abbey ruin for a few minutes reflection as I explored the site.

I think it was the next day when I was once more reminded of the passage of years, and the approaching completion of the psalmist's allotted 'threescore years and ten', when my new driving license fluttered onto my doormat.  With such thoughts in my head, did I really need a friend to comment within a day or so about 'becoming a grandmother again'?  I recalled that my granddaughter - of whom I've heard nothing for years - is now 22 years old and, for all I know, I could be a great-grandfather!

Perhaps the balance was restored yesterday, when another friend proudly displayed pictures of her daughter, whose boy-friend had last weekend descended to one knee and made a proposal of marriage.  I was reassured that the niceties of a former age have not totally evaporated when my friend explained that the young man had earlier spoken to her husband upon the subject.  I recalled that I had done the same thing some two-score and eight years ago ... and even then was thought of as 'old-fashioned'!