The world from my window

The sound of church bells echoes out across the still, evening air. The six bells break out into a run of Whittington , named after the call by Bow bells to the medieval merchant, Dick Whittington: 'Turn again Whittington, Lord Mayor of London...' It is bell ringing practice night in The Enchanted Village and the novices are improving. I was one once, and never really progressed from call changes. The weight of the bell terrified me as did its potential to inflict huge damage. I had visions of the bell crashing down through into the ringing chamber and enveloping me for eternity. But I did like being in direct touch with history, making a sound with an instrument hundreds of years old. Now, though, I am content to hear the ringers from the safety of my own home, listening through the world from my window. The sound is different from yesterday, when a steam engine trundled through after stopping at the stream outside Posh Totty's house to take on water. The noise was enough...