A morning spent in the bell tower attaching muffles to the clappers. Subdued bell ringing in many English towns and villages today. This teatime I am back in the town I grew up in, some 50 miles away. The local vicar, an old friend, manages to get me in a church (other than the bell tower) once a year. Albeit c/w guitar and singing Bogle's Green Fields of France. The one time I sing it these days. .... He in turn promises me the hymns will be ones I recognise, none of your modern stuff. The reading will be as ever from the book of either Wilfred Owen or Siegfried Sassoon.
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