Enjoying the Village Bells at Pumpjack & Piddlewick

The weekend was spent working in the garden, clearing, planting and general maintenance. As dusk descended, the village bells told me it was time to stop. It is one of the things about France I absolutely adore, having the bells gently tell me the time.

Now each village is different. Some have bells bonging more frequently than others, some less. It’s a consideration should you wish to move to France. And of course, how close you live to the bells will matter. I’m lucky, and it was luck not design, in that the house seems the perfect distance. Just loud enough to hear in the distance, but not so loud as to really interrupt if I do not want them to.

Bing, Bong, Bing

My village bells bong quite a lot. Once at quarter past the hour, twice at half past, three times at quarter to. On the hour they bong four times, and then ring out the time. Then do the time again, in case you missed it or counted wrong the first time. (Which I often do.)

End of my gardening day is typically around 7pm (19h). I can happily poottle away without paying attention. The village bells doing their thing, tolling in the background of my day. And then at 7, seven times they ring, and then once again. And then lots of general clanging. The additional clanging is a twice a day thing at the 7th hour.

Oh, and we have the general clanging at the noon hour, too. (Though, luckily not the midnight hour.) I was told there used to be a canon bang to announce mid day. That must have been something. A true announcement for all to down tools and enjoy the days main meal here in France. I am grateful the bells tell us now.

Music to My Ears

I love my village bells. They have a lovely tone. Deep enough that they don’t ring through you. Rather they are the perfect level to stay in the background. Unless I wish to know what time it is. Then, when the bells ring, I listen and count the bongs.

It’s surprising how I don’t hear them most of the time. It is an actual conscious thought to tune my ears and pay attention to what they are saying. They bong the time through the night as well. Yet, even with windows opened (in summer) I don’t hear them. Unless I want to.

Bells, Marriage and Easter

The bells are also used for when a wedding occurs. The whole village becomes aware, on a Saturday or Sunday (typical wedding days), that someone just got married if the bells start their tolling outside of a sequence. This will then be followed by cars following the happy couple around the village, all tooting their horns in joyful celebration.

Easter brings both the silencing of the bells, from Good Friday until Easter Sunday in respect of mourning, to then being rung in celebration of the resurrection. This ringing is called “les cloches de Pâques“, the Easter bells. Interestingly, it’s become part of the French Easter folklore. Kids grow up being told the bells fly off to Rome to be blessed by the Pope. Upon their return, they bring chocolate, scattering them in the nearby gardens where children go to hunt them on Easter morning.

Part of Life

The bells would have began life as the way for most to know what time it was, as most people did not have time telling mechanisms available to them. Clocks were expensive and wrist watches and smart phones were a thing of the future. So the bells told the whole village what time it was, with those times noted of get up (7am), lunch time (Noon) and stop working (7pm).

The bells were also very useful for those who worked outside in the fields, as they could be heard from quite far away. They were always a special sound when I worked in the vineyards, especially at noon. Often I would hear the bells of several villages dotted about the landscape as they all clanged to down our tools and go eat. A welcome break, but also a beautiful sound. Now, working in the garden, it’s a great way to tell me it’s time to go in and make dinner.