Sorry about the thread creep,but this just jogged one of my favorite English village memories. We were eating dinner at a pub called the Plough in Leigh, Surrey, about 10 miles and 300 years from Gatwick Airport. The church bells started ringing and continued for about the entire meal. I asked the publican what was going on with the bells. "It's Thursday," he replied, as if this cleared up the matter. Upon seeing the confusion on my face, he said "Bell practice" We walked over to the little parish church after paying at the pub, and when the bellringers saw us come in, they insisted that we come up in the belfrey to observe the bells , how they worked, showed us the rather odd music, and them told us proudly that these bells had been hanging in the church when the Armada had come up the channel, had been buried during the civil war to prevent Cromwell's men from melting them down and making cannon out of them, then were lovingly returned to the church. One of our outstanding memories of an English Village experience.