Crunch Crunch Crunch. Stand!

Er, yes, well, erm. We’ve consulted an old tattered copy of Diagrams left in the tower, checked the coursing order, poked the blue line in various places, harassed the conductor about her calls, thumbed the old-boy's 1972 Ringing World diary and the nice young-man’s iWotsit - actually he did that but we looked over his shoulder - glared at the worst ringer in the room, shuffled our feet a bit and stared long at the bottom of our pint glass (twice) and honestly, we have no idea what went wrong. Sorry.

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