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Telegraph
11-06-2025
- General
- Telegraph
Don't let a vocal minority silence Britain's ancient church bells
There used to be a tradition that ringing church bells would drive out evil spirits. Now it's the bells that are being driven out. The latest set of chimes to fall foul of complainers are in Mytholmroyd. It's a small West Yorkshire village, best known as the birthplace of Ted Hughes. Perhaps it was the bells of St Michael's Church that inspired the late Poet Laureate to write in one of his rhymes for children about a bell's 'clang of mumbling boom'. But that clang was far from mumbling for three residents who said they were being kept awake all night by the chimes, ringing every 15 minutes. A noise abatement order imposed on the bells means they now can't be rung at all, so for the first time in 100 years they have fallen silent. There have been similar ding dongs over church bells elsewhere in the past few years: in both Witheridge and Kenton in Devon, in Helpringham in Lincolnshire, and in Beith in Ayrshire, usually by people saying that chimes through the night in these rural neighbourhoods are ruining their sleep. As someone who lives in a city, used to police helicopters overhead, ice cream vans blaring their tinny tunes, trains rattling past, and crowds of students staggering home at night under the influence of numerous intoxicants, I have to say I do find the noise of the countryside rather disturbing. Here in the city, these noises are part of a constant soundscape. In the country, there is an enveloping silence, but then you will be jolted into wakefulness by a cockerel's piercing crow, or a huge piece of farm machinery rattling past, or a herd of cattle lowing their way to milking. But a church bell chime, surely, is in a minor key compared to these other rural interruptions? For me the sound of bells is, well, music to my ears. Despite the planes flying into Heathrow over my head and the police sirens blaring outside my door, I can still hear the sound of a bell nearby, which rings regularly to mark Divine Office being said in a local monastery as well as the Angelus at noon. On Sundays, a peal of bells sounds out at a nearby church, and on weekday evenings too you can hear the ringing, as the tower captain and his team practise Plain Bob Major or Grandsire Triples or one of those other extraordinary mathematical formulas, known as changes, that make up bell-ringing. But the kind of change we don't want is something so quintessentially English as bell-ringing to disappear because after a few people make a fuss, officialdom steps in. The bells of Mytholmroyd were silenced when just three people objected – but the 1,200 residents who wanted the chimes to continue had their petition ignored. It's a growing pattern: a few complaints put an end to chimes that had been loved by communities for generations. Yet there's more at stake here than bells. It sounds a death-knell for our tradition of going with what the majority want.
Yahoo
11-06-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Don't let a vocal minority silence Britain's ancient church bells
There used to be a tradition that ringing church bells would drive out evil spirits. Now it's the bells that are being driven out. The latest set of chimes to fall foul of complainers are in Mytholmroyd. It's a small West Yorkshire village, best known as the birthplace of Ted Hughes. Perhaps it was the bells of St Michael's Church that inspired the late Poet Laureate to write in one of his rhymes for children about a bell's 'clang of mumbling boom'. But that clang was far from mumbling for three residents who said they were being kept awake all night by the chimes, ringing every 15 minutes. A noise abatement order imposed on the bells means they now can't be rung at all, so for the first time in 100 years they have fallen silent. There have been similar ding dongs over church bells elsewhere in the past few years: in both Witheridge and Kenton in Devon, in Helpringham in Lincolnshire, and in Beith in Ayrshire, usually by people saying that chimes through the night in these rural neighbourhoods are ruining their sleep. As someone who lives in a city, used to police helicopters overhead, ice cream vans blaring their tinny tunes, trains rattling past, and crowds of students staggering home at night under the influence of numerous intoxicants, I have to say I do find the noise of the countryside rather disturbing. Here in the city, these noises are part of a constant soundscape. In the country, there is an enveloping silence, but then you will be jolted into wakefulness by a cockerel's piercing crow, or a huge piece of farm machinery rattling past, or a herd of cattle lowing their way to milking. But a church bell chime, surely, is in a minor key compared to these other rural interruptions? For me the sound of bells is, well, music to my ears. Despite the planes flying into Heathrow over my head and the police sirens blaring outside my door, I can still hear the sound of a bell nearby, which rings regularly to mark Divine Office being said in a local monastery as well as the Angelus at noon. On Sundays, a peal of bells sounds out at a nearby church, and on weekday evenings too you can hear the ringing, as the tower captain and his team practise Plain Bob Major or Grandsire Triples or one of those other extraordinary mathematical formulas, known as changes, that make up bell-ringing. But the kind of change we don't want is something so quintessentially English as bell-ringing to disappear because after a few people make a fuss, officialdom steps in. The bells of Mytholmroyd were silenced when just three people objected – but the 1,200 residents who wanted the chimes to continue had their petition ignored. It's a growing pattern: a few complaints put an end to chimes that had been loved by communities for generations. Yet there's more at stake here than bells. It sounds a death-knell for our tradition of going with what the majority want. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Daily Mail
11-06-2025
- General
- Daily Mail
Villagers furious after church banned from ringing 'nuisance' 177-year-old bells following complaints from neighbour
A village church has been deemed a 'nuisance' and forced to silence its chiming clock after being slapped with a council order - following 'a ridiculous villager complaint'. St Michael's in Mytholmroyd, West Yorkshire, was stunned to receive an abatement notice about its beloved clock bells. The church was ordered to silence the chiming between 11pm and 7am after being notified of a complaint from a disgruntled resident of the proud village. Traditionally the clock - a staple in the village for up to 177 years - has rung out the full Westminster chimes, with four quarter bells that chime every 15 minutes and a bell that strikes on the hour. A £2,500 device would be needed to limit the bells to only chiming at night - so in order to comply with the Calderdale Council order, the bells have temporarily fallen silent for the first time in more than a century. Now devastated residents of the village - birthplace of poet Ted Hughes - have slammed the decision and set up an online petition to reinstate the bells, claiming they're 'the soundtrack of our community's daily life'. Roy Wrathall, who's been a church warden at St Michael's for nine years, said the church was there 'for everybody' so they would comply with the notice. 'We don't have the facilities to silence overnight,' he said. An online petition calling for the church bells to be allowed to peal again has attracted 1,296 signatures 'There's very much two sides to it. 'There's "I'm awake in the night, there goes the clock, that reassures me" and "I can't get to sleep because I keep hearing that clock every 15 minutes". 'It's not an easy one to resolve. 'Wearing the church hat - we're there for everybody, so we'll do what the law says we have to do and do our best to try and please as many people as we can. 'The only way we can comply between 11pm and 7am is to stop the chimes. 'The clock's still going but the chimes have stopped.' The eerie silence has been a particular blow as many locals associated the return of the chimes with the village recovering from devastating floods which also inundated the church in 2015. 'There was several feet of water in there - right by the river and houses around the same,' Mr Wrathall said. 'There was no electricity, no street lights and there was no clock going in the church so there were no chimes, it was silent. 'One of the things that was a sign of recovery to a lot of people was when the clock started chiming again, things were getting back to what they viewed as the norm. 'There are people who still find the clock during the night reassuring, but equally there's someone down in the village who it doesn't work like that for.' Furious locals have set up a petition to reinstate the bells, which has racked up 1,296 signatures. The petition reads: 'Growing up in the heart of Mytholmroyd, the sound of St Michael's church bells ringing through the village has been a cherished part of my life. 'These bells have chimed since 1848, long before any of us were here - a symbol of continuity and community for over a century. 'My family's roots run deep in this village, and for us, as for numerous other residents, the chimes are more than bells - they are the soundtrack of our community's daily life. 'We propose that Calderdale council reconsider their decision and engage with the community to find a solution that satisfies both the individual who raised the complaint and the majority of village residents. 'Solutions such as soundproofing options for the complainant's residence. 'Preserving these bells means preserving our history and community. St Michael's Church says it has been left with no choice but to silence the chimes 'completely' following 'a complaint from a neighbour' 'Their sound is a legacy we must protect for future generations. 'Support our campaign to keep the bells of St Michael's ringing in Mytholmroyd.' One supporter wrote: 'Born and bred in Mytholmroyd, still my home in my heart. 'The bells of Saint Michael's need to be heard, not silenced.' Another commented: 'Growing up in the 'Royd those bells were my clarion call to get home for dinner. 'With the bells silenced I worry about the poor children who may starve for lack of eating dinner. 'I feel that 177 years of the bells ringing being silenced by one objector is ridiculous.' Calderdale Council says it has received 'several complaints from local residents about the noise of the church clock chime overnight, and the substantial impact it was having on their quality of life'. 'We investigated the complaints in line with our legal duty, and this involved identifying whether the noise was causing a substantial or unreasonable impact on the quality of life of those who had complained,' said Danielle Durrans, cabinet member for public services and communities. 'The noise from churches and other similar establishments is something that many councils across the country have had to investigate. 'We understand how much local people value heritage and the tradition of the church clock. 'However, the evidence from our investigation showed that the regularity and volume of the bell chiming, at the time of night when people are sleeping, was causing a substantial impact, so we had no option but to determine a statutory nuisance and serve an abatement notice requiring the chimes not to operate between 11pm and 7am. 'We have received no appeals against the abatement notice, and the decision to stop the chiming during the day as well as night-time was taken by the town council and Erringdon Benefice.'
BBC News
24-05-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Fresh application lodged for sculpture honouring poet Ted Hughes
A fresh planning application for a sculpture to honour the work of former Poet Laureate Ted Hughes in his birthplace has been voluntary organisation Royd Regeneration wants to erect a 6ft 5in (2m) high iron sculpture in group had previously submitted a similar application, which was approved by planners two years ago despite objections from Mr Hughes' widow, Council will now consider the new application and publish a decision in due course. Hughes, who died in 1998, was born in Aspinall Street in the village in 1930 and lived there his family moved to Mexborough when he was of his most notable works include the poetry collections Lupercal, Crow, and Birthday Letters and the children's book The Iron Man. Currently only a small plaque near his former home makes reference to his connection to the village, according to the Local Democracy Reporting Regeneration, which works to raise Mytholmroyd's profile, is hoping to install the cast iron sculpture of a large milk churn and two life-sized foxes in the centre of the village, opposite the Dusty Miller in Burnley Road.A supporting statement with the application said nature played a part in the poet's work, with his boyhood in the Calder Valley providing some significant previous proposals were opposed by Hughes's widow, who wrote to the council saying she had not been consulted and did not think the design was the applicants said full a consultation had been done with the Elmet Trust, a Ted Hughes charity, and it felt uncomfortable for the village to feel it could not honour Hughes without the consent of someone who does not live the plans at the time, planners said objections were largely concerned with the subject matter and its relation to the character of Hughes, rather than siting and married his second wife, Carol Orchard, after his relationship with fellow poet Sylvia Plath ended. Listen to highlights from West Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, catch up with the latest episode of Look North.
Telegraph
03-04-2025
- General
- Telegraph
Britain's birds are dying – here's what we'll lose
The poet Ted Hughes once memorably described the challenge facing any writer in describing an airborne crow. There are no words, he argued, to 'capture the infinite depth of crowiness in a crow's flight'. No phrase, no matter how well-chosen, could begin to do justice to the bird. Or, as Hughes bluntly put it, 'a bookload of such descriptions is immediately rubbish when you look up and see the crow flying'. It's a cautionary tale to which few modern-day nature writers seem willing to pay heed. As sure as the swallows arriving each spring, there'll come a fresh wave of books attempting to capture birds' essence. Given the sheer proliferation of these avian volumes, in fact, one can't help but wonder whether they're intended to test, rather than convey, Britain's enduring love affair with birds. Jon Gower's Birdland (★★☆☆☆) shows the perils of navigating this increasingly congested field. Gower, it's fair to say, is no arriviste to ornithology. As a teenager in the 1970s, he would regularly escape his claustrophobic family home in south Wales, cycling through old ash pits and marshes to lose himself in birdwatching. This book thus represents something of a culmination of that lifelong love affair: it sees Gower travel across Britain in pursuit of species from urban peregrines to the great bustards of Salisbury Plain. You can't fault his dedication. Studying corncrakes on the Hebridean isle of Coll, he finds himself furiously pedalling his rented bike to keep up with a group of eminent ornithologists in a Land Rover. Each chapter is interspersed with interviews with conservationists attempting to protect Britain's birds against a backdrop of decades of decline. Yet his paths feel too well trodden. The case studies he highlights will be familiar to anyone with more than a passing interest in Britain's birds: the RSPB's Operation Turtle Dove, the kittiwakes on Newcastle's Quayside, Oxford 's Wytham Woods – famously one of the most studied tracts of woodland in the world – and, nearby, the swift colony on the roof of the Oxford University Museum of Natural History. Gower abridges these stories into individual, loosely connected chapters, and in the process he offers little more than a bird's-eye view. Oddly, at the same time, his research gets lost in the thickets of modern-day nature writing, meaning there is little here that feels original. At one stage, he recounts the highlights of a Robert Macfarlane Twitter thread about JA Baker's classic 1967 book The Peregrine; we're thus presented with the curious spectacle of one author writing about another author tweeting about another author who was writing on birds. And as for the Ted Hughes test, a wren is described as a 'miniaturised, soft machine-gun spraying paper bullets of sound', and choughs as flying like 'an aerial clown-show'. At one stage, Gower even coins his own collective noun: a 'serenity of swans'. (There are already several words: flock, bevy, gaggle, herd.) For all his admirable passion, one can't help but wonder whether he might leave birdland to the birds for a while. In Bird School (★★★★☆), Adam Nicolson seems more alert to the challenges, and perils, of his field. Early on, he cites the writer Charles Foster's claim that whenever he, Foster, is perusing the 'birdwatching' section of a bookshop, he'll seek out the titles that describe the experience of having birds watch us, rather than the other way around. And, instead of striking out in pursuit of birds, Nicolson instead constructs a hide in a field close to his home on the Sussex Weald. What follows is in part a deep topography of a local patch, and in part an exploration of the intricacies of the lives of the birds that reside there. The result is deeply satisfying. 'We do not know each other and their lives are invisible to us,' Nicolson writes of the birds he watches. Instead of attempting to capture the unknowable, he draws upon an impressive depth of scientific and historical research to bring his subjects to life. Bird School works, to a degree, like a scrapbook, with Nicolson including old maps and notes – he records the exact sequence of birds singing in the dawn chorus – as well as a diary of the time he spends in the hide. He only loses focus when, on occasion, he ventures too far afield, as when he wanders the streets of Bonn in pursuit of blackbird song. When he stays put, Bird School is a worthy addition to a literary lineage that stretches back to the 18th-century writer and naturalist Gilbert White. Above all, Nicolson's dispassionate style is effective at illustrating the threat to Britain's birds. At one point he produces a series of graphs demonstrating the precipitous collapse of our songbird population over the past 60 years: bullfinches, nightingales and swallows have declined by 50 per cent, skylarks by 60 per cent and turtle doves by 90 per cent. The roll-call of species lost, he writes, reads like a list of regiments decimated in battle. Across Europe as a whole, bird populations have fallen by nearly a fifth over recent decades, a loss of about 600 million birds from a total of 3.2 billion in 1980. That collective indifference to what he calls an 'ending of a multiple form of life' inspired him to write this book. Bird School, then, is a fitting title: we should learn to rekindle our enduring love affair with birds, before they vanish from our sight.
