We rang a little something this week. By many people’s standards it was a very little something – just 540 of PB6, but for the participants it was more than a little something.
The occasion was to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of a ringing couple. Might they have preferred a peal of something ambitious? Possibly, but one of the joys of ringing is that ringers of all levels of experience and aptitude can come together and do something jointly that is meaningful to them. It might be dismissed by others as an irrelevance, but for the participants it involved working on the edge of their current comfort zones in order to pay a surprise tribute to a ringing friend.
The Ladies Guild members who gathered in a virtual ringingroom were there because, for various reasons, the towers where they spent so many happy ringing years are now less accessible to them. Many older people did not return to the level of ringing activity that they had enjoyed pre-lockdown. There are various reasons – reduced personal mobility, less willingness to drive (especially at night), increased caring responsibilities, a decimated band that is back to rebuilding itself and concentrating on Absolute Beginners, structural issues in church buildings and above all, reduced confidence. Some individuals took a big knock to their confidence over the past few years. Things that they had done successfully all their lives became mysteriously “complicated”.
I remember my first visit to a real tower after the 2020 lockdown, when I had to fill the car with petrol and use a cash machine on the way. Two simple everyday tasks that I had managed on automatic pilot for all my adult life had become mini-challenges. Which button to press? What is my password? Where do I put the petrol in and how do I get the filler cap back on? By the time I reached the tower and was expected to ring up a bell, I felt already stretched. My comfort zones had shrunk so alarmingly that it all felt overwhelming. Obviously, not everyone reacts to things in the same way, but I know that there are others who, in all sorts of ways, are less sure of themselves than they were in 2019. The world tipped on its axis, the things that we thought were solid and secure turned out not to be and it has left some of us anxious, unsure and a bit wobbly. Perhaps, unless you have struggled in this way, you do not appreciate what some others may be experiencing.
I find it surprising that so many older, experienced ringers that I speak to have lost their confidence and that no one seems to be doing anything about it. How careless we appear to be of our fellows who may have given 50 years to the community, but now find themselves marginalised. A lot of effort has gone into the recruitment and retention of new ringers, but how much thought has been given to the retention of existing ones? From looking at the CCCBR advice, it seems very little. Have we asked why, specifically, some people have not returned? Have we thought about rearranging a practice for older members who no longer drive at night, or thought to offer lifts to someone who may not like to admit that they no longer turn up at 7.30pm because they do not feel safe behind a wheel once it is dark? Might someone have lost their lifetime ringing partner in the past few years and would appreciate the suggestion that they go to practice with a friend rather than on their own? Could we offer to sit with a dependent partner who cannot be safely left alone for 90 minutes? Do we suspect that someone has lost so much confidence to ring after the break that they need a minder, but are perhaps embarrassed to ask for one? They were once the minder for others and it could feel humiliating to have the roles reversed. Are there ways in which we can tactfully support and encourage older ringers to re-engage? Perhaps personally invite them to join us on a short outing to somewhere with easy bells, where there will not be 20 ringers champing at the bit to have their turn and making someone feel exposed and stupid?
It may be that many of the lapsed older cohort of ringers do not want to come back to ringing, but I suspect this is not true for everyone. From witnessing the satisfaction that a few, initially reluctant returners are enjoying through a gentle reintroduction via the MRDC, where the bells are easy and the atmosphere more nurturing, I believe that there is an appetite for a supported return Shrugging our shoulders and saying “Well, towers are open and welcome all ringers. It is up to them as to whether they choose to return” seems inadequate. Rather we could be thinking “What are the barriers and how could we remove some of them?”
After all, someone might just be struggling to locate the petrol cap, like I was or feel self-conscious that, having successfully rung peals in earlier times, now feel unsure if they can even get through a touch of plain bob without crashing about and making an exhibition of themselves. Better to stay safely at home and perhaps seek out some similar refugees in the virtual world for a different sort of ringing – but what a waste of experience.
The Accidental Ringer 