change-ringer on the tenor; the peal leaves and never comes back
Six of us in the tower, no conductor's baton, just one voice calling the changes and everyone counting.
Learning the ropes for real: a sally burn across the palm that'll be a callus by Sunday.
Rang a quarter peal tonight, 1260 changes, no method the same order twice. Forty-five minutes of rope and then it's just gone into the air.
To whoever is listening long after the tower is quiet: we rang, and we meant it.
A struck bell can't be un-struck. Every round we ring is spent the instant it lands.