I’ve been a bellringer since 1989, when I learned to ring at St Mary’s church, Tenbury Wells. I kept it up when I moved to Leominster with my parents, and learned about as much as I ever have by 1995. In 1996, I went to university, and fell in with NUSCR. But here’s the thing. NUSCR’s practice night was Tuesdays, which clashed with the LGB group at the university, so I ended up alternating between the two, and never really committing to either. Ringing was fun, and always ended up in the pub; but the LGB group was pretty important in helping me come out and find gay friends.

Unfortunately, I’ve found that ringing is one of those things that you never really get better at unless you dedicate quite a lot of time to it. You have to do it two or three times a week to reinforce what you are learning and progress through the discipline. And at all sorts of times in my life, I’ve never organised myself to have the time to devote to ringing. And so it is that really, although I’ve been ringing twenty years, I haven’t made any progress in the last fifteen. One of the most advanced things I’ve ever done as a ringer was to get a quarter peal of Plain Bob Major in 2003. These days, I’d struggle to ring that, as I simply don’t get to practices on 8 bells very often.

So about 18 months, I’d sort of told myself that I’d quit ringing. I hadn’t made any real progress for years. My councillor work means I am often at evening meetings, which rule out regular practice with any one band. I don’t like getting up early at the best of times, and Sunday mornings (since the main reason for ringing is for Divine Service) are often the only time P gets for a lie-in, so it’s doubly unfair for me to get up early the one day he doesn’t have to.

And then I went shopping on a Friday night and heard the bells of Daybrook, Arnold, clattering across the car park. There weren’t many of them, and they weren’t ringing well, so I found myself thinking I’d just pop over and help out. I joined in and helped out. I probably haven’t helped the standard of ringing, but I usually add to the numbers. And doing that reminded me why it was that I liked doing this strange hobby anyway:

The people are great! I’ve had fab times with ringers wherever I’ve been – NUSCR had a wide range of fab people throughout all my university years, and although I’ve dropped in and out of their lives ever since, they’re still great. The people at the FODS, the gay bellringers association who have two tours a year – they’re great too! The people at pretty much any tower in the country when you turn up and say “I’m a ringer, can I get a ‘grab'” (ie can I ring at your tower because I haven’t run here before) will be welcoming and friendly. And the people at Daybrook are no exception. They’re great too.

The places. Being a ringer has taken me to all sorts of towns and villages I would never otherwise have visited from rural idylls to city centre churches. Ringing tours are fun. Churches are interesting places to spend a day dashing from one to the next, and although I’ve never systematically recorded the information or even completed the churches of one county, I’ve still had a lot of fun.

The access. As a ringer, you get to climb all sorts of staircases few other people have access to. You get rooftop views of cities, and privileged access to the exclusive upper reaches of cathedrals. You get to see buildings from whole new perspectives and see all sorts of fascinating things.

The exercise. I get precious little exercise at the best of times, so hoiking half a ton of metal through the sky at 60 feet a second must surely count as part of that.

oOo

Anyway, tonight, I scored a quarter peal for the first time in 6 years, ringing the tenor to a doubles method (which means: I rang the 6th bell to a pattern for 5 bells, so I wasn’t part of the method, just the person who always rang last – so I had an easier time of it than the other ringers, and even they weren’t taxed too much because it was a basic method.) We rang it as a 90th birthday compliment to a lady who lives within earshot, so hopefully she opened a window at some point and heard us at it. A passing ringer who did hear us told me on Facebook that it sounded OK, which was nice.

I’m going to try and get back into the habit of ringing quarters over the next year. Despite ringing the heaviest bell for just under an hour, I’ve not got any aches or blisters, which I’ve got before.

There’s a tradition at NUSCR that people get to ring a peal when they graduate – a peal is over 5,000 changes, and takes over two hours complete. In 2000, when I graduated the first time, we had at least three goes at getting a peal for me, but fate conspired against us and we suffered various setbacks – a rope that broke halfway through; an error in conducting, and a breakdown in ringing, so in the end, we settled for a long extent of 2,000 changes in the year 2000.

That means I’ve still never rung a peal.

So next year, I’m going to renew my efforts and score my first peal, hopefully to commemorate our wedding in October. Wish me luck. And let me know if you’d like to ring in it!

A while ago, I started putting the essays I wrote for my MA into a small section of my blog. Tonight, I noticed from my referral logs that at least six people have found my essay on Bound and that spurred me to do the work necessary to copy my final dissertation onto my blog (mostly reformatting and making the footnotes work in the very helpful plugin WP-Footnotes)

So, now you will find four short essays and one dissertation in the Writing section, that I hope will be of interest to a variety of people.

To get an MA on the Film Studies course at Nottingham University at the time, you had to take four modules, each of which ended with an essay, and then spend a summer writing a longer, 15,000 word dissertation. I wasn’t exactly a model student, and was not certain I would pass when I handed in my dissertation. Each of the four taught essays passed – but barely. The dissertation was supposed to break new academic ground, and be of original research, but when I got around to writing it, I found that the ground I was interested in had already been fairly well trampled.

All MA students were regularly encouraged to consider applying for PhD level study – and in my case, since I took the course part time over two years, I underwent the encouragement twice. But I think I found my level during the MA study. I don’t think I could actually complete a doctorate.

So here are links to the essays:

Clint Eastwood: no standard manufactured personality

Crossfire, Bound and Double Indemnity: the homosocial and the homosexual in classic and neo-noir

Splatter and Society: Braindead and Killer Condom in context – in fact, taking the horror modules was something I did entirely so that I could write about Braindead and Killer Kondom, the latter of which I saw when living in Paris, in German subtitled in French. The fun I had writing that essay is pretty evident from the essay. I got to write stuff like this and still earn credits for it:

This almost obligatory nod to the ur-Mother of all transvestite psychopaths, Norman Bates, is happily thwarted and for the first time the pair manage to catch a killer condom in the wild, by attaching it to a gas pipe and inflating it until it explodes.

“Where the prehistoric meets the pre-pubescent” – a tagline which the over-graphic box cover picture of the heroine plainly demonstrates as false

The central love story between endowed-like-an-elephant middle aged man who doesn’t shave very often, and strikingly attractive blond 20-year-old is one that figures throughout the canon of König’s work, eg Iago, where the protagonist is William Shakespeare, and Der bewegte Mann and its sequel Pretty Baby, where the attractive younger man is played in the film versions by Til Schweiger in the days when he was still a German superstar. He is now a Hollywood extra.

How did the second world war affect cinema in Nottingham? – this was a fascinating project which involved lots of looking through old editions of the Nottingham Evening Post in the Local Studies Library on Angel Row. I became a real dab hand at the microfiche reels!

And finally the dissertation:

Heterosociality and Hollywood: the Rise and Rise of Rupert Everett

That’s right. I got an MA by writing about Rupert Everett. This has been the subject of much derision from people with more serious academic credentials.

In addition to the academic curiosity, the reasons for enrolling on the MA course were all pretty trivial. I needed a reason to stay in Nottingham where all my friends were. And after four years of BA study, I actually wasn’t ready to stop writing essays, and I wanted an excuse to still write stuff. Shortly after completing my MA, I got elected to the city council – what better excuse to stay in a city? – and a year after that, I started blogging.

Kitty sleeping bag

Originally uploaded by nilexuk.

Just uploading this cameraphone cat pic mostly as a test.
– Taken at 12:06 AM on November 07, 2009 – uploaded by ShoZu

This is a test post from , a fancy photo sharing thing.

I took a few minutes out of my day at lunchtime to go and help fit the muffles to the clappers of the bells at Daybrook St Pauls. Sunday is Remembrance Sunday, and so the bells are rung half muffled, a glorious sombre sound as a mark of respect.

To achieve this, you put a thick leather strap on one side of the clapper of each bell. Each time the bells are rung, you get a loud dong and a quiet dong. You can hear some recordings of half muffled bells here.

To get up the tower, you have to climb a few turns of a stone staircase, making sure doors are locked behind you. You don’t want someone pulling the ropes below you while you are amongst the bells, because the bells are bigger and heavier than you, and could kill you. There was a tragedy in the 1960s in this very tower when a bell killed someone.

There are safety procedures – making sure people from the church know you’ve gone up and know when you’re due back; going up in pairs; locking doors and hanging keys from special hooks so you know people don’t have access to the ropes two floors below you.

But for all that, to physically get at the clappers you have to perform all sorts of acrobatic feats to clamber around the frame to get under the bells. At the church I was at, the bells are in two levels in an old rusty metal frame. And you have to remember that half of the apparently sturdy looking features of the tower are in fact bell fittings, which mean they’re well greased and ready to swing if you try and grab hold of them. Sliders, wheels and stays are all large features that you have to avoid. And above the frame, there aren’t so many things to hold onto to steady yourself. I have a reasonably good head for heights – high ladders to get at stage lights certainly feature in my past – but I still have to concentrate quite hard not to get the willies.

You’re not so high above the nearest floor – if you fell, it would not be so bad, apart from crashing through the bells and girders on the way down. But you can see out of the enormous windows and that gives you tremendous views across north Notts, from a perspective higher than the tower on the old Home Brewery building.

Of the three words that have sent me to the dictionary recently – two of them are from Times columns by superdish Giles Coren, who I recently started following on Twitter. These days it really doesn’t happen all that often that I don’t already know a word. This is probably a bad thing. No-one can know every word, and so none of the reading I routinely do takes me out of my vocabulary comfort zone.

1 – Vexillology

This word cropped up on a CV of the ultimately successful candidate for a job for which I was on the interview panel. It means the study of flags.

2 – Rapine

From a Coren column about barcodes. It seems to be a synonym for pillage, making the phrase “rape and pillage” tautologous.

3 – Subfusc

Like Rapine, it’s from another Coren column, this one about lawyers. And like rapine, it’s a word that first drew my eye because it looks a bit like a typo. It means dark or dingy, and my initial googling suggests it might also be Oxford argot for drab formal wear. That certainly makes sense in context.

Somewhere I learned that there’s now much more of historic Hansard – the verbatim record of the proceedings of the UK Parliament – available on the internet than there has been before.

It now goes back to the early 1800s.

As you do, I tried a few search terms, and found the earliest mentions of Nottingham:

A petition was presented from the debtors confined in the jail of Nottingham, which was ordered to lie on the table.—Mr. Grey, sir A. Piggott, and Mr. H. Addington, and sir C. Pole took the oaths and their seats.—Mr. Eyre presented a petition from the maltsters of Nottingham, complaining of the, additional duties imposed upon malt by the act of the 42d of his present majesty. Ordered to lie on the table

Nottingham’s debtors’ prison? I wonder where that was. And the Maltsters of Nottingham? I wonder if that involved the Maltings, now a student hall of residence in the Basford part of town?

The current crop of Lord Bonkers’ diary entries for September’s Liberator are now available at diary secretary Jonathan Calder’s steam-driven weblog.

• Monday: Swine flu parties
• Tuesday: Tinchy Stryder makes an investment
• Wednesday: Saying no to size zero
• Thursday: The public stoning of Billy Bowden
• Friday: Hiding from Loulou Harcourt in the shrubbery
• Saturday: Nick Clegg in the bog
• Sunday: I’m Free

I have been snorting with laughter for days.

Help me lazyweb, you’re my only hope!

I use WordPress here on my home blog and also on LDV. Both, theoretically, have a schedule feature – instead of “Publish immediately” you hit a button and tell it when you want the post to appear.

On LDV it works fine for me – but one of our editors reports it doesn’t work for him.

And on my own blog it doesn’t work, which is a little annoying, because sometimes I write stuff in the middle of the night and would prefer to schedule for the following morning, to give some semblance of leading a relatively normal life.

I click the “edit time” button, and the url for the blog post changes to have #edit_timestamp in it – but the drop down box that’s supposed to appear with the schedule time doesn’t appear, and I’m still left with the “publish now” option.

It can’t be a browser thing because of the inconsistency between two websites. This blog is mostly out of the box, but LDV is heavily improved by our talented tech guy, Ryan Cullen. But I doubt he’s been near that particular bit of functionality.

So woss goin on?