Culture 14 October 2010 "Passing-Bells" Sign-up That moment when the soldier's soulslipped through his wounds, seepedthrough the staunching fingers of his friendthen, like a shadow, slid across a fieldto vanish, vanish, into textless air . . .there would have been a bell in Perth,Llandudno, Bradford, Winchester,rung by a landlord in a sweating, singing pubor by an altar-boy at Mass - in Stoke-on-Trent,Leicester, Plymouth, Crewe, in Congresbury,Littleworth - an ice-cream van jingling in a park;a door pushed open to a jeweller's shop;a songbird fluttering from a tinkling cat - in Ludlow,Wolverhampton, Taunton, Hull - a parish churchchiming out the hour; the ringing end of school -in Wigan, Caythorpe, Peterborough, Ipswich,Inverness, King's Lynn, Malvern, Leeds -a deskbell in a quiet, dark hotel; bellringers' practiceheard by Sunday cricketers; the first of midnight's bellsat Hogmanay - in Birkenhead, Motherwell, Rhyl -there would have been a bellin Chester, Fife, Bridgend, Wells, Somerton,Newcastle, in city and in town and countryside - the crowded late night bus; a child's bicycle;the old, familiar, clanking cow-bells of the cattle. This article first appeared in the 11 October 2010 issue of the New Statesman, Melvyn Bragg guest edit SUBSCRIBE More