From the opening Preludes of moving in with the Professor, and setting up shop in that great terrace (Noon erthly palys wrought in so statly wyse), Allemandes in Canadian language lessons, Couranting through services that might really have been rehearsals all along, sun drenched Sarabandes on the Isles of Scilly, dancing great Galanteries in a return to Norfolk lands... And now the final steps, in celebratory Gigue of everything that has happened, and the last things left to do too! The end of term's just got crazy fast, with more large scale anthems being piled into a mid-week service than would even seem believable... When was the last time you did Blest Pair of Sirens on a Tuesday? At least we won't have a weekend with a massive concert (or Vespers for that matter) to recover from, either vocally or alcoholically. OR WILL WE? This last (blest) pair of Sundays feature whole masses, the one coming being the masterful Papa Marcelli by John Peter Louis of Palestrina, and the following week brings us Hungary's finest in the shape of Kodaly Zoltan and his Missa Brevis, Introitus and all. While it does mean that this will be the fifth time we've done that particular mass this year, it is written in to this year, being of no small personal importance to one of our great Tenors, but also as part of our summer concert... And really, it's just so bloody good that it bears being repeated so it can be further honed. I myself will be taking care of the deeply emotional "Qui Tollis", both in the Gloria and it's return in the Agnus, and will pour every last ounce of heart and voice into it. Well... I might save a bit for the
But what of the Scholars this year? Yes, what indeed. See, part of my life at the moment is to build meaningful relationships that may seem to have a finite value. The whole process of having people around for ten months at a time is how this place works, replacing around half of the back row of the choir at a time. Some, of course, are invited to stay. Some demand. Anyway, while Canada's brightest and best came to join us, neither will stay. Sweden will reclaim her own, and an Old Wykehamist leaves for Old London town. I only have one friend who supports Forest, and he's right here as well, but I hasten to add that he is elect of the office of Lay Vicar as well, so at least he'll be around still. Unlike last year, where relations were... strained to say the least, things have been excellent with the Scholars this year, not only by comparison but also genuinely. I don't really know how or even if I'll be able to cope once they all leave, or even if I'll want to. Parts of my life have become so ingrained with them, a decision gladly made as well.
This year's relative security has allowed me to put myself back together in a much more conclusive manner than would be expected judging on my usual mental state. In doing so, I have discovered things about myself that perhaps I might not necessarily have wanted to or liked to have found out, but there it is. I have also found many fine qualities of myself reflected in how others interact with me, and the inevitable surprise of those who mistakenly concluded I was of nothing worth. Recently though, it's as if I have come into my heritage, and have not only garnered high praise from the highest corners for my singing, but also for you know... Just being a really nice guy. I actually laughed derisively as I typed that, because it's not exactly something I really expect or understand of myself. Also, let's face it, it's pretty weak. Turns out that all sorts of visitors (alright, mainly Canadians) have actually found me "acceptable" and "relatable" among other things. I have been called "warm" and "engaging" by others still, and am beginning to slowly but surely understand that I'm punching, if anything, far below my weight. Although I always give inanimate objects far too much value (what other idiot would refer to a piece of furniture as his oldest friend in Truro?), it's actually through understanding this that has probably allowed me to forge better friendships. What will happen to the famous "last piece", of glass wrought pure, is anyone's guess though. In a way it forms the only remaining part of a personality locked away while I spent the last seven years becoming dissociate, progressively more bitter and cynical. Oh look, there's that number again...
What's next though? This is the important question, because if anything, my life lacks direction. In what can only be described as shocking news, and something that will surely please my aged mother, I intend to give up drinking over the summer, in an effort to raise the appropriate funding to get me to Toronto and back. Being named an "honourary Canadian" and having four completely genuine and well meant offers of places to stay make me feel much better than being forgotten here. Giving up booze will free up countless funds. I conservatively estimate that it'll cut my expenses in half straight away, and of course the far quieter social scene will hopefully mean I won't go out so much on my own and end up trying to help with clean down while being definitely less than three sheets to the wind...
I know I always say this at the end of these things but I am actually working on all sorts of things again. Guided by the models of my great and ancient masters, I'm hacking out sonnets, and hope to get a little cycle of 5 in a state that I might publish them here, publicly soon. I'm also going to see the next symphony of destruction that is the oeuvre of Michael Bay, Transformers: Age of Extinction very very soon (if not tomorrow then like... Monday, so I'm sure I'll have plenty to say about that. For now though, that's quite enough. A prize that goes to anybody who can successfully work out the connection between the last four titles (not including the programme notes, obviously).
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