Museum in the ringing chamber

Peter, our tower captain, has been emptying out his shed again. As well as his collection of old bottles, World War Two gas masks and sundry items, there are now three bicycles hanging from the ceiling. The butcher’s bicycle brought back some memories. For six years I rode one every Saturday morning delivering meat to customers. I remember my first pay for the round was two shillings and sixpence or twelve and a half pence in today’s money.