Memories of handbell ringing in Tickhill by Frank Watkinson

Christmas is for many a very busy period, with lots of preparations, lots to organise and extra shopping to do. These are also times for memories of many Christmases that have gone before. You may have a memory, that no matter how small, comes back year after year. I have one from when I was about ten years old, which was my first year with Tickhill handbell ringers.

I was born in Church Lane in 1939 and we lived there until I was eleven. Dad was a church bell ringer, and took my brother Ralph and me with him. I was about eight or nine years of age before I learnt to ring the tower bells, which I continued to do for over forty years. By about the age of ten we were encouraged to join the re-forming handbell ringers, who were made up mostly of church bell ringers.

There were about ten or eleven of us, which included Jack Cannings, his daughters Freda and Betty, and Freda’s husband, George Evans, Albert Hulley and his brother Cyril, Gordon Turner, John White, Ivan Battersby, my brother Ralph and myself.

Most of our practice nights leading up to Christmas were at the Northgate home of Mr & Mrs Cannings. As a youngster, these nights alone bring back many happy memories. We all stood around the table in their living kitchen, practising all the Carols we would be ringing and a few more tunes besides, even bursting into song occasionally. There was always a good fire burning in the range on cold winter’s nights, and Mrs Cannings looked after us with cups of tea and cakes. Mr & Mrs Canning’s sons, Walter and George, would sometimes be there with their wives, making these evenings even more memorable.

Over the Christmas period, Mr Cannings, who was also Verger to St Mary’s Church, managed to arrange many places for us to go and ring and we were invited to many homes around Tickhill. Getting there was, of course, always on foot and someone had to carry the bells, which were quite heavy.

Sandrock House, Tickhill House, The Friary, Eastfield Farm and Weardale were among the ones we regularly visited, with many others which changed from year to year. Getting around on foot was no problem, as there wasn’t a great deal of traffic in the early fifties. We would also get invited to Christmas parties and concerts further afield, which entailed travelling by bus. Among some of the venues I remember were Doncaster Corn Exchange, The Salvation Army and Palais de Dance both in Worksop and a Chapel in Whitwell.

After New Year we had a party in the Parish Room, attended by and prepared by ringers and their families who rang handbells and the bell ringers who rang St Mary’s Church bells. The handbell ringers also went to the pantomime at the Grand Theatre in Doncaster.

There were four of us who started ringing together as youngsters, with about one year between each of us: John White, my brother Ralph, Ivan Battersby and myself, age ten. I was the youngest. It was decided that first Christmas, that the four of us should practise with two bells each, and to ring a few Carols without any music, so that when we arrived anywhere in the dark, we could ring a couple of Carols before we went inside.

A few days before that first Christmas, Mr Cannings wanted us, before going anywhere else, to visit the Maison Dieu almshouses. Living at 6 Church Lane, Maison Dieu was somewhere I and my brother Ralph were very familiar with in the daytime as, with our Mother, we often visited Miss Clixby, an elderly lady [born in 1873] in one of the almshouses and were often asked to take little bits of shopping around to her. As a youngster you don’t see how much the houses needed to be improved. I always thought how lovely they were, all set around the garden, and thought Miss Clixby’s little almshouse was a magical place to visit.

We went to Maison Dieu on what was a very cold, clear night and picked a spot where as many residents as possible would be able to hear us. I think there was only one, maybe two, lamp posts there, with a very dim bulb, like most of them were in Tickhill, at the time. The rest of the ringers stood to one side while John White counted us in, and we started to play our first Carol. One by one, curtains were drawn and doors opened, the light coming out being very dim, as most had oil lamps. When we had finished playing the Carols we had practised, the elderly ladies came out to give us a chocolate or boiled sweet, which they would have probably received as a gift for Christmas.

Being there on a cold, dark winter’s night with the dim glow from oil lamps and a flickering light from the open fire in their homes, for a ten year old spending fifteen or twenty minutes, and sharing a little bit of their Christmas was a memory to treasure for ever. Sadly, all the almshouse occupants, all the ringers, including John, Ralph and Ivan are no longer with us. That leaves me, the only one to remember that winter’s night seventy years ago, and it has left me with a memory that I shall never forget.