I rang in a peal at Trumpington today, part of the ASCY Peal Weekend (which looks to have been very successful). I had agreed to ring because it was supposed to have been Smith's 23 spliced, and I quite enjoy ringing something like that which forces me to stay alert. I can't abide peals in single methods, since I invariably drop off to sleep and drop off the line after about an hour's ringing, by which point I am normally bored stiff by the method. Unfortunately, the peal was scaled back to Bristol Major, a reasonable method in its own right, but still tedious after a few courses.

 

For my sins, I was the conductor, although there were other ringers in the band who would have done a better job (I expect Phil Earis asked me to call it to keep me sweet after dropping it down to a single method). The problem was that there was this one ringer in the peal who was ringing like a pile of shite. He was clearly not putting any effort into it, and would rather not have been there. He cocked up nearly all of the back bell music off the front and back, and was fairly erratic with his striking throughout. Unfortunately, there wasn't much I could say, since the ringer was me. I didn't set out to be crap, but just found that my mind was elsewhere most of the way through; it was a minor miracle I didn't miscall it.