I wasn’t early enough, by 10 minutes, as the bellringers started about 9:40, the intel from Dennis was slightly wrong. A lady walking through the graveyard shouted ‘Happy Recording!’ before I was actually recording, the headphones disconnected (wireless) after 5 minutes so I was unable to monitor the sound, the bells clipped a bit at the beginning of the recording as they were so loud even at about 30 feet away (they are usually way up in a tower projecting across town rather than at ground level), a good chat to the East Bergholt Ringers that were In favour of the recording and passed details of local people to speak to, sounds from the town masked out the sounds of the aircraft which makes a pleasant change from the aircraft masking out the sounds of nature, organ and singing of hymns coming from inside the Church, they tyres of SUVs roaring past, a white unidentified flying feather hovering in the graveyard for 20 seconds before floating to the ground, a young man wearing a wind cheater in the rain. The Pied Wagtail of Bergholt the Pied Piper ​made me realise as I watched it twitching its tail from on top of a gravestone that nature is a huge improvised ensemble that could at any moment produce a flourish a drone a rhythm a fill a chorus a crescendo a pause and that beauty that exists in a moment that only you witness and then is gone unseen by anyone else go to it and sit quietly until it comes to you meet it half way go to a concert of improvised music to hear, see a recreation an imitation of the same process in the best way that we know how. all music is historical unless it is being created right in the moment be in the space where it is being made to get an unfiltered experience natural sound is the same listen to it without inhibition raw, real and undiluted the predetermined controlled mapped out plan of conformity to life is as far away from this as being locked in prison.