Tag: village

Spring is in the air

After a grey, grim old day yesterday, we have blue skies and signs of spring here in West Dorset.

There’s mud everywhere and it’s squelchy underfoot but the many puddles are reflecting the changing of the seasons.

We’re not there yet but it won’t be long.

On my morning walk, I glanced up when I heard the corvid call of rooks building nests in the tall trees in the copse.

And then a deer scuttled through the undergrowth.

‘The longer days are coming,’ said my farmer friend as he came down the hill from the community shop with his newspaper under his arm.

“But I fancy the daffodils are a bit early.”

I met a man in the lane who I thanked for his expertise in the community pub the other night when our very own Celebrity Farmer and his sidekick regaled the gathered throng with tales from their escapades on the Channel 4 show, Hunted.

(They should have done Bake Off.)

The man in the lane had provided his sound and vision expertise for the talk, which was just as well because the place was packed and none of us would have been able to hear it otherwise.

He told me he’s going to be at the village hall next weekend to help when I put on an archive film show as part of a project recording the memories of older people born and bred here in Lush Places.

It’s people like him who quietly get on with helping others who are the unsung heroes among us.

The international stage is a frightening place and there are personal situations all around where people are suffering.

But to be dragged down by all of that means the extinguishing of hope. We have to celebrate the small big things that make a difference.

I thought about all the volunteers in our pub who are keeping it going while we interview for a new manager. I thought about the volunteers in the shop who man the till.

The people who run the village hall, the people who keep our lovely church up and running, the people who lock and unlock the gate everyday on the multi-use games pitch, the people who listen to children reading at school and those who give up their time to look after our communal open spaces.

So many people, in small and big ways, doing their bit and keeping the community from coming unstuck.

To steal a well-known slogan, every little helps. And it really does.

A bit of a ding dong

The church bells are still silent in Lush Places.

Meanwhile, I’m in France where the church bells in our village chime the hour twice, every hour (it’s about to strike three o’clock and they’ll go dong, dong, dong. And then a break and then dong, dong, dong again).

But the bells here do shut up at night. However, during the day, at noon and at seven o’clock, they chime until they’re fit to burst, calling in the workers from the fields for lunch and evening meal respectively.

Last week, a former colleague reminded of a notice I’ve seen in many French villages, drawing outsiders’ attention to the perils of rural life.

This is the country where village signs up and down the land have been turned on their heads. This latest farmers’ protest alludes to having their own lives turned upside down by contradictory instructions. See the BBC story here.

I hope a solution can be found to the silencing of our village bells back in Dorset.

And wouldn’t it be wonderful if, in addition to the automatic hourly chiming being restored, a new team of bellringers steps forward to pull the ropes on Sundays and high days and holidays?

The bells aren’t rung on a Sunday at the moment because there’s no tower captain nor regular team of ringers.

It would be lovely if the positive outcome of the silence of the bells story was that volunteers joined forces for bellringing to happen once again.

The sound of silence

Well, that didn’t last long, did it?

This time last week, I was waxing lyrical about the arrival of spring and the long-missed sound of the chiming of the church clock on the hour.

I even wrote about its repair for my not-yet-published editorial in the parish magazine, which has gone to press but isn’t out yet:

It is a joy to see it working again and chiming the hour, too. It’s been a part of village life for so long, it’s like welcoming back an old friend.

And then that ‘old friend’ promptly turned around and fled.

You see, after just two days, the church clock was stopped from chiming.

Apparently, someone new to the village complained that it was keeping them awake.

I’m not angry but I am saddened and upset. Village life is precious and the clock has been there for generations, an aural reminder of the passing of time. It takes one person to complain and then the bell is cancelled.

Now I know there are more important things in the world to worry about right now, and I don’t wish to go all Wicker Man, but the chiming on the hour, all day and all night, has been part and parcel of this village for years.

Which is why it was such a delight to hear it again.

Could there be a compromise? Maybe the clock could chime the hour only during the day. Apparently, though, that comes at quite a cost. I’ve heard £2,000-plus mentioned. And I’m not happy that the church would have to pay that just to satisfy one complainant. I’m not prepared to chip in, either.

I live near the church and I can honestly say that the hourly chiming has never kept me awake. You become accustomed to the sound. Your brain tunes out.

I do hope church leaders can resolve the problem swiftly.