On one side the traditional sounds of the game of cricket, with the noise of bat hitting ball, gentle applause and cries of "hozat". On the other, the mellow vocals of handbells floating over, the calls of the conductor directing others partaking in this ancient art. The two sounds blend sympathetically in the middle over a gentile but competitive game of bowls on a country lawn. Could this scene be anymore the epitome of an English July afternoon in the country?
Aptly, this is a social gathering of that most ancient English craft, church bellringers. Not campanologists, we have some fierce objection to that term that I've never fully got to the bottom of, but bellringers. That is what we do. Ring bells. Not just that of course. Whilst for many it is the primary focus of their spare time, it is an exciting, interesting and fulfilling square in the rich tapestry of lifestyle that Suffolk offers. Young, old and those who choose not to commit to either are attracted to a hobby that at it's core has changed little for hundreds of years. So what keeps something so ancient and traditional alive in an age when ancient and traditional are incredibly uncool, especially among the young, the very people we need to keep this worthwhile past-time going?
Well essentially, speaking as someone who at 29 hasn't quite given up the trappings of youth, events like the barbecue described above help. A chance to glow in the social richness of such a splendid undertaking. I've been ringing for 20 years - as you clever people have probably already worked out, that's since I was 9 - and in that time ringing has taken me around the country, across to Ireland, into huge houses to converse on a level field with lords, ladies and sirs and more importantly it has given me hundreds - and I mean hundreds - of friends. I met my girlfriend through ringing, the first word I heard my son say was "ding" and I've even made money out of it, although nothing to write home about. Frankly, without ringing my life would be completely different and in my humble opinion much the worse for it. That's not to say it's all I have. A large proportion of my friends have never stepped inside a belfry and although interested in what I do, don't profess to know anything about it, still quoting the perpetual myth of people sailing to the ceiling. When time and finances permit, I try to get to the North Stand Lower at Portman Road, where I can hurl abuse and swear at a referee I don't know whilst cheering the lads on.
Bellringing is what I'm good at though. Perhaps this is what appealed to me as a youngster, if you'll excuse the pun. I was never brilliant at school, although competent and despite dreams of scoring the winning goal for England in the World Cup Final as Ipswich's star player, I wasn't ever going to make the grade on the football pitch. Any time the ball came to me I'd freeze, the indecisiveness that still haunts me today attacking me at the worst moment. No, ringing was where I was good and the plaudits I would receive from those who had been ringing for years were enough for me to ride the jibes of the difficult school years.
Even if I hadn't had been that good at it, I enjoyed the opportunity that my parents afforded me in the craft. I went to places I would never experienced, met extraordinary people I wouldn't otherwise have met and been given responsibilities that I couldn't of dreamt of if I wasn't a bellringer.
Admittedly for the young person today it is harder to feel enticed to such a hobby and it's not just ringing that has suffered. All sorts of hobbies struggle on with ageing participants, whilst teenagers and even younger play on computer games, watch SKY TV, drink, smoke and generally loiter. Although certainly not the occupation of all youngsters and despite their protestations of "having nothing to do", it seems an impossible task to encourage young people in the 21st century to come anywhere near a church, let alone then entice them into a belfry.
And here lies perhaps our biggest hurdle. The church. Or more specifically the perception of churches and the folk who inhabit them. It's true that the bells are part and parcel of church life and that's how it should be. Many ringers too are members of the congregations they ring for, but there is a large number, if not the majority of ringers who don't go to church services, much to the frustration of some clergy. In fact, some make no secret of being atheists. Indeed, more and more ringers are putting "mini-rings" - rung just like church bells but much, much smaller - in the homes, sheds, garages and even pubs, meaning it's possible to enjoy ringing without stepping foot into a church if you didn't want to, although this would deprive you of much enjoyment in itself. You are certainly not going to be drawn into religion if you don't want to be. This may sound contradictory, but as well as the duty of service ringing, there is a growing proportion of ringers who partake in this queerly viewed tradition as a opportunity to progress themselves mentally and/or physically. Methods - our music as it were - grow ever more complex as you continue your bellringing odyssey, the challenge of bigger bells looms large and the chance to climb the ladder to national recognition keeps people - particularly of a younger age - enthusiastic. You never stop learning and enjoying this hobby. I have rung with 8 year olds and 95 year olds that are still learning, looking to reach the next level and there are now simulators and computers that help aid this progress.
Perhaps that's the key to keeping this amazing heart of British life beating.
