For the Fallen - Truro Cathedral Choir Summer Concert, Saturday 21st June 2014

PROGRAMME

'1914' – Alan Gray (1855 – 1935)

Soloist: Ben Reed (treble)

For The Fallen – Mark Blatchly (b 1960)

Lament – Francis Pott (b 1957)

My Soul, There is a Country – Hubert Parry (1848 – 1918)

INTERVAL

Missa Brevis – Zoltán Kodály (1882 – 1967)

Soloists: Ben Reed, Pedrek Venton and Isaac Heron (treble);

Edward Stebbing-Allen (alto); Nicholas Hawker (tenor); Marc Gregory (bass)

1 Introitus

2 Kyrie

3 Gloria

4 Credo

5 Sanctus

6 Benedictus

7 Agnus

8 Ite, Missa Est

WORDS AND PROGRAMME NOTES

Published in 1919, Alan Gray's 1914 is a setting of three of the sequence of five war sonnets composed by Rupert Brooke. Brooke wrote the sonnets in the autumn of 1914 as a reaction to the outbreak of war, and they show the idealism that characterises the general attitude towards the War in its opening months, and outline the life, accomplishments and final death of an English soldier.

Born in 1887, Brooke was educated at Rugby School, and travelled through Europe before taking up a scholarship place at King's College, Cambridge. Commissioned into the Royal Naval Volunteer Reserve in August of 1914, he saw active service in Antwerp that year. He was part of the Mediterranean Expeditionary Force that sailed out in February of 1915, where he died on the 23^rd of April, St. George's Day 1915, from sepsis contracted from an infected Mosquito bite.

Peace, the first of Alan Gray’s three musical settings from 1914, sees the soldier as a kind of heroic, happy warrior. Brooke’s poem comes from these earliest days, when the War was seen as a kind of adventure, with recruits and Army officials alike expecting hostilities would be over by Christmas. The overall feeling of this poem is that of thanks for a chance given to fulfil a noble destiny, and a sense that fighting is a way into heaven; there is no reason to find upset as all are fighting for a worthy cause, that even though you may be afflicted by pain, “that has ending”. The last three bars of the treble part echo the call of a Bugle, an instrument further alluded to in the next movement.

The Dead, the third of Brooke’s sonnets, has a much bleaker outlook. Musically, we know we are in different territory straight away, as the reed stops of the organ give way to trebles and tenors in unison, underpinned by pedal, while the choir calls out “Blow, out ye bugles”. The tone of this poem is that of remembrance, where Brooke pays homage to the sacrifice made by the men who have given their lives already: not only have they given their lives, but also those of the children they could not have, “their sons, they gave, their immortality”. As we move to the second part of the sonnet, Brooke uses religious imagery; the dead have “brought us, for our dearth, Holiness”. The last lines of the text invoke almost a mythical atmosphere, as “Nobleness walks in our ways... We have come into our heritage”, that through the effort of fighting and willingly sacrificing their lives, the soldiers have brought virtue to the Nation of England through a kind of Knightly crusade.

Finally, in The Soldier, the last of the sonnets, the idealisation of life ends with an idealisation of death. Continuing the themes of willing sacrifice and almost Knightly valour, the poem unfolds as a letter that any recruit might have sent back to his family. Unlike the other sonnets, there is no real shift in mood, and the tone is firmly that of remembrance, drawing on religious notes in illustrating an afterlife. Brooke treats the men who died as sons of England 'herself', that not only do their bodies belong to and come from England, but also that they have carried the soul of the Nation with them in battle, allowing the very dust that their dead bodies lie in to take on part of the nature of England. Musically, it is more intimate than the preceding settings, and is performed tonight unaccompanied. This more tender air may be a personal response by the composer, who lost his own son to the War. As we reach the end of the poem, Brooke tells us that at the end of this sacrifice, the hearts of these brave men lie “at peace, under an English heaven”, that they will find their way home, even after death. 

Set to music for “chorus and organ, or orchestra”, 1914 owes more to a 'Town Hall' musical tradition than it does to Cathedrals or Collegiate Chapels. Rather than a more forward-looking, twentieth century idiom, the music is rooted in a late Edwardian or Victorian style; the texture given over to the treble line with a clear melody supported harmonically, rather than contrapuntally, by the men's voices beneath. Instead of viewing it as sentimentality, we must remember that the war had only just finished by the time of publication, and that Brooke's poems were very popular; perhaps this nostalgic approach to the music is more to recapture the feeling of innocence before the war. The simplicity of the musical texture may well have been geared more towards a social setting, bringing people together again after the destruction of many small communities from so many men going out to fight and never coming back.

 

I – Peace

Now, God be thanked Who has matched us with His hour,

And caught our youth, and wakened us from sleeping,

With hand made sure, clear eye, and sharpened power,

To turn, as swimmers into cleanness leaping,

Glad from a world grown old and cold and weary,

Leave the sick hearts that honour could not move,

And half-men, and their dirty songs and dreary,

And all the little emptiness of love!

Oh! we, who have known shame, we have found release there,

Where there's no ill, no grief, but sleep has mending,

Naught broken save this body, lost but breath;

Nothing to shake the laughing heart's long peace there

But only agony, and that has ending;

And the worst friend and enemy is but Death.

II – The Dead

Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead!

There's none of these so lonely and poor of old,

But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold.

These laid the world away; poured out the red

Sweet wine of youth; gave up the years to be

Of work and joy, and that unhoped serene,

That men call age; and those who would have been,

Their sons, they gave, their immortality.

Blow, bugles, blow! They brought us, for our dearth,

Holiness, lacked so long, and Love, and Pain.

Honour has come back, as a king, to earth,

And paid his subjects with a royal wage;

And Nobleness walks in our ways again;

And we have come into our heritage.

III – The Soldier

If I should die, think only this of me:

That there's some corner of a foreign field

That is for ever England. There shall be

In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;

A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,

A body of England's, breathing English air,

Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,

A pulse in the eternal mind, no less

Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;

Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;

And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,

In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.

Words: Rupert Brooke

Laurence Binyon composed his famous poem, For the Fallen, on the coast of North Cornwall, and plaques can be found at Portreath and Pentire Point to commemorate this. It was published in September of 1914 around the same time as the first Battle of the Marne, which saw over half a million men killed or wounded in action. It honours the British soldiers who had already died at this early stage in the War, and in its full form runs to seven stanzas. Three of these stanzas have become known as the Ode of Remembrance, and feature heavily in memorial services all over the world; the second verse of this ode is read nightly at the Menin Gate following the Last Post. It was first set to music in 1915 by Cyril Rootham, swiftly followed by another setting in 1917, as part of Edward Elgar's collection The Winnowing Fan. This particular setting was composed in 1980 by Mark Blatchly for Barry Rose and the choristers of St Paul's Cathedral, London. It opens with the original first stanza as well as the Ode itself, set for treble voices in three parts with organ.

The text contains many of the themes presented to us by Brooke in 1914. Straight away, in the first three lines, the trebles join in unison as the text speaks of England as a mother, with the men carrying the spirit of the Nation with them as they fight “in the cause of the free”. At the beginning of the second verse, the voices split into their three parts, with a bright, almost jolly feel, “they went with songs to the battle”. The mood quickly becomes solemn once more as “they fell with their faces to the foe”, however. This third verse is the most familiar to us, “They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old”, that the dead and the lives they gave will live on in our memory. At the words “At the going down of the sun”, Blatchly quotes part of the Last Post in the vocal melody. As the final verse begins, the organ plays a simplified version of the introduction. The words are full of the realisation that these men will simply never return to the friends and families left behind; the trebles split into two parts, the lines mingling before joining together again to restate “They shall not grow old”. This time at the words “At the going down...”, a solo trumpet enters, played tonight on the organ, with the Last Post in full, while the trebles sing “we will remember them”.

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,

England mourns for her dead across the sea.

Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of spirit,

Fallen in the cause of the free.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,

Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.

They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,

They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old;

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;

They sit no more at familiar tables of home;

They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;

They sleep beyond England's foam.

Words: Laurence Binyon

Although the text originates from the First World War, Francis Pott's Lament is a thoroughly modern composition, and is dedicated to the memory of Staff Sergeant Olaf Smid, GC, who was a former Head Chorister of this Cathedral Choir, killed in Afghanistan in 2009. The text, Wilfrid Wilson Gibson's A Lament, dating from 1918, is a poem of remembrance that primarily expresses regret that things can never really go back to how they were before the War. Gibson saw active service as an infantryman on the Western Front, and was not only a friend of Siegfried Sassoon, but also Rupert Brooke, whom he met in 1914 in the village of Dymock, Gloucestershire.

Set in six parts, the texture of this music is especially dense. Instead of the melody and accompaniment style we have heard already this evening, all six parts (one treble, two altos, two tenors and one bass) are continually moving independently, producing an elegant and restrained 'ebb and flow', where different parts peek out of the texture at different times, shifting the emphasis of the words. The piece opens with “We who are left”, which at first suggests the surviving soldiers, but as the verse goes on it seems more that it is the voice of the nation at home. The subject matter is primarily of simple “little things”, namely weather and birdsong, evoking the typical English countryside. The first verse calls to remembrance that the soldiers who went away were ordinary people who loved the same things as much as those who did not fight, including the “sun and rain” that we feel every day. Gibson writes that they went “Ungrudgingly”, that these men, like him, chose to sign up to fight of their own free will and “spent their all for us”. Rather than Brooke's invocation of crusading, Gibson succeeds here in planting us firmly in everyday reality. Overall, he asks how can these soldiers return to a life of normality after the shattering effect of fighting? Pott mirrors the restrained sense of the text with his use of dynamics and tempo, drawing the listener in. He does not shrink from the subject matter though, with particularly tortured chromaticism to illustrate the “heart-break in the heart of things”. The piece ends with a repeat of the first line, which gradually dies away to nothing, with a tenor and treble soloist holding onto the last notes long after the rest of the choir has finished.

We who are left, how shall we look again

Happily on the sun, or feel the rain,

Without remembering how they who went

Ungrudgingly, and spent

Their all for us, loved, too, the sun and rain?

A bird among the rain-wet lilac sings-

But we, how shall we turn to little things

And listen to the birds and winds and streams

Made holy by their dreams

Nor feel the heart-break in the heart of things?

Words: Wilfrid Wilson Gibson

The first of Charles Hubert H Parry's six Songs of Farewell, My Soul, There is a Country is the oldest poem represented in this programme. Written by Henry Vaughan in the seventeenth century, Peace belongs to the 'metaphysical' school of English poetry, which was most famously represented by John Donne and George Herbert. This cycle of songs was among the very last of Parry's output, as he died in October 1918, just before the end of the War. The War was a great upset for Parry, not least because of his love of continental (and especially German) music and culture, but also as many of his students went away to the Front.

Parry sets the poem in four parts, with a refreshing directness. With repeated chords on “My Soul”, the music moves swiftly on to describe heaven as the “Country far beyond the stars”, borrowing imagery from the books of Genesis and Revelation, where both the Garden of Eden and the Gates of Heaven are described as being guarded by their own “winged sentries”. The text goes on to describe this Heavenly land, ruled over in an Earthly fashion, with God, styled here as “Peace”, at its head, and Jesus Christ, “one born in a manger”. For each four line stanza, Parry composes a new section, with its own distinct character, repeating the final verse at the very end. The emphasis of this poem is that of peace itself, and how that can bring the soul closer to God. 'Peace' is crowned with “smiles” in the second verse, and in the fourth verse, the “flow'r of Peace” which can be found in this country is described as a “fortress and thy ease”, signifying the importance of the security in peace as a way to God as well. The last verse plainly sums up the rest of the poem, the message that the only way for the soul to find peace in Heaven is to come through faith in God on Earth.

My soul, there is a country

Far beyond the stars,

Where stands a wingèd sentry

All skilful in the wars:

There, above noise and danger,

Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles

And One, born in a manger

Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious Friend,

And O my soul, awake!

Did in pure love descend

To die here for thy sake.

If thou canst get but thither,

There grows the flower of Peace,

The Rose that cannot wither,

Thy fortress, and thy ease.

Leave then thy foolish ranges,

For none can thee secure

But One who never changes,

Thy God, thy life, thy cure.

Words: Henry Vaughan

INTERVAL

In 1942, Zoltán Kodály composed his Organ-Mass, a purely instrumental setting of the Ordinary of the Mass, following a tradition that stretches back to fifteenth century England, and made famous in the Livres d'Orgue of many French baroque composers. However, it was not simply an 'alternatim' setting (where the organ plays alternatively with choir singing plainchant), this was set entirely for organ, with the Mass text written in the margins to show which part of the text was represented. Premiered in 1943, it was this work that formed the basis of the Missa Brevis we know today. Rather than leave Hungary during the Second World War like his contemporary Béla Bartók (1881-1945), Kodaly elected to stay in his native country.

It was in the winter of 1944, near the end of the War, during some of the most bitter fighting between Nazi and Soviet forces, that the city of Budapest, split by the river Danube, faced terrible destruction. Although the Soviet Army was able to push the Nazi forces out of the Pest side and over the river, Buda was not so fortunate, and that side of the city underwent vicious periods of 24-hour a day bombing from both sides. It was during this time that Kodály chose to take shelter in the basement of the Hungarian State Opera House with his wife, Emma, to whom this Mass is dedicated, on their 35^th wedding anniversary. While hiding from the war around him, Kodály expanded the Organ-Mass into the Missa Brevis for choir and orchestra with organ, and set the six movements of the Mass, Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei, with the Introitus and Ite, Missa est at the beginning and end remaining as instrumental movements. The work was first performed in the Opera House's cloakroom, in 1945, and the international premiere came not long after, in the 1948 Three Choirs Festival held in Worcester.

Kodály drew on many influences in composing this Mass, none more so than those of his own country. Steeped in the traditions of the Hungarian folk songs he had collected in the first decade of the twentieth century, the work has a strong modal flavour, with a focus on the Phrygian mode. Related to the ancient Greek mode of the same name, and the Fourth Tone of church modes, this mode is stereotypically associated with music of Jewish origin, and the folk music of regions that have had large Jewish populations, such as Spain and large parts of Eastern Europe. One of its chief characteristics is the 'half-step' down into cadences; the delaying of this in either bass or melody parts can produce crushing dissonances, but it also brings a feeling of enormous solidarity when the chord comes together at cadence points. The use of drones, again copied from folk music, creates a mysterious, almost reverent atmosphere.

The Introitus begins with one of these drone pedal notes, and introduces motifs that we will see used again in the Missa Brevis, most prominently in the Kyrie and Agnus Dei. In the middle of the Kyrie, a trio of treble soloists soar up to a top C, before we turn back to the darkness of the original Kyrie motif.

The Gloria begins with tenors sounding “et in terra pax” like trumpets, before the altos and basses join in imitation, leading to a joyous start to the movement. This gives way to a trio of men’s solo voices with the words “Qui tollis”, with the use of clashing notes separated by octaves to heighten the feeling of passion that Kodaly pours into this section. The full choir returns with “Quoniam tu solus Sanctus”, with an energetic dotted rhythm figure, that leads to a hugely climactic “Amen”.

The Credo introduces more new material, with an opening motif that seems to be inspired by Gregorian plainchant. The “Et incarnatus est” is the emotional centre of this movement, with grinding dissonances that show Kodály at his most devotional. This leads straight into the “Et resurrexit”, which reclaims the mood of the Gloria, and introduces a second motif based on leaps of large intervals. It ends in a triumphant mood, with an “Amen” no less impressive than that of the Gloria.

The opening of the Sanctus shows a strictly contrapuntal side, beginning with a short fugal section. At “Pleni sunt caeli” the first Credo motif makes a return, taking us to the sustained “Hosanna”. The Benedictus is more lyrical in its outset, with long phrases in all voice parts. Gradually, it builds in intensity until the “Hosanna” returns.

The Agnus Dei announces itself with the basses very low in their register. The “qui tollis” from the Gloria is used, again for solo voices, and is then expanded upon for the whole choir. The climax at “Dona nobis pacem” is overwhelming and surely the plea for God to “Grant us peace” would have been heartfelt in that State Opera House, amidst bombing from all directions.

Finally, the Ite, Missa Est uses almost all the themes we have heard already in the Mass, most notably from the Credo, but also quotes from the Introitus and Sanctus. In reusing this material, Kodaly brings his Mass full circle by unifying its musical spirit.

1 – Introitus

Organ solo

2 – Kyrie

Kyrie, eleison.

Christe, eleison.

Kyrie, eleison.

Lord, have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

3 – Gloria

Gloria in excelsis Deo,

Et in terra pax hominibus bonae voluntatis.

Laudamus te, benedicimus te, adoramus te, glorificamus te.

Gratias agimus tibi propter magnam gloriam tuam,

Domine Deus, rex caelestis, Deus Pater omnipotens.

Domine Fili unigenite, Jesu Christe, Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris.

Qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.

Qui tollis peccata mundi, suscipe deprecationem nostram.

Qui sedes ad dexteram Patris, miserere nobis.

Quoniam tu solus Sanctus, tu solus Dominus, tu solus Altissimus,

Jesu Christe, cum Sancto Spiritu, in gloria Dei Patris.

Amen.

Glory be to God on high,

And in earth peace, good will to all men.

We praise thee, we bless thee, we worship thee, we glorify thee,

We give thanks to thee for thy great glory,

O Lord God, heavenly King, God the Father Almighty.

O Lord, the only begotten son Jesus Christ,

O Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of God, Son of the Father.

Thou that takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.

Thou that takest away the sins of the world, receive our prayer,

Thou that sittest at the right hand of the Father, have mercy upon us.

For thou only art holy; thou only art the Lord; thou only, O Christ, with the Holy Ghost,

Art most high in the glory of God the Father.

Amen

4 – Credo

Credo in unum Deum; Patrem omnipotentem, factorem coeli et terrae, visibilium omnium et invisibilium. Et in unum Dominum Jesum Christum, Filium Dei unigenitum, Et ex Patre natum ante omnia sæcula.
Deum de Deo, lumen de lumine, Deum verum de Deo vero. Genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri: per quem omnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos homines, et propter nostram salutem descendit de coelis.

Et incarnatus est de Spiritu Sancto ex Maria Virgine: et homo factus est. Crucifixus etiam pro nobis sub Pontio Pilato, passus et sepultus est.

Et resurrexit tertia die secundum Scripturas. Et ascendit in coelum: sedet ad dexteram Patris. Et iterum venturus est cum gloria judicare vivos et mortuos: cujus regni non erit finis.

Et in Spiritum Sanctum, Dominum, et vivificantem: Qui ex Patre Filioque procedit. Qui cum Patre et Filio simul adoratur et conglorificatur: qui locutus est per Prophetas.

Et in unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam. Confiteor unum baptisma, in remissionem peccatorum. Et expecto resurrectionem mortuorum. Et vitam venturi sæculi.

Amen.

I believe in one God; the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.

And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds;
God of God, light of light, true God of true God, begotten not made; being of one substance with the Father, by Whom all things were made. Who for us men and for our salvation descended from heaven;

And was incarnate by the Holy Ghost, of the Virgin Mary, and was made man. He was crucified also for us, suffered under Pontius Pilate, and was buried.

And on the third day He rose again according to the Scriptures: and ascended into heaven. He sitteth at the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again with glory to judge the living and the dead; and His kingdom shall have no end.

I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and giver of life, Who prodeedeth from the Father and the Son, Who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified; as it was told by the Prophets.

And I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church. I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins. And I await the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.

Amen.

5 – Sanctus

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloria tua.
Hosanna in excelsis.

Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts.
Heaven and earth are full of Thy glory.
Hosanna in the highest.

6 – Benedictus

Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini.
Hosanna in excelsis.

Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna in the highest.

7 – Agnus

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis.
Agnus Dei. Dona nobis pacem.

Lamb of God, Who takest away the sins of the world, have mercy upon us.
Lamb of God. Grant us peace.

8 – Ite, Missa Est

Organ solo

Programme notes by Paul-Ethan Bright

If ye be risen again

Rather than work on anything exciting for myself, I've recently been working on exciting things for other people, mostly my Cathedral Church.  Always, pushing brinkmanship to what can only be considered a 'high art' level, I've always wondered how long this kind of tactic can last... only to find that it still serves.  The fact that my dissertation came together in much the same fashion just over three years ago probably explains everything...

Still, sat here in a kind of intellectual aftermath, at least the weather's picked up.  Over the last two days I completely burnt out my brain by completing this term's programme notes in a seven hour shift overnight after dining on what I can only describe as the world's hottest Thai cuisine that very evening.  There's something... Irresistible about having one's back up against the deadline though, some sick thrill that cannot be ignored.  Always always always my best work comes out of such a situation, and I haven't found an effective way of changing this... And it isn't as if I've tried very hard.  This isn't supposed to be some sort of long overdue apology to either my teachers, my professors, my choir master or perhaps even myself (unless it is?!?), seeing as it's more a way of life that I've gradually committed myself to without too much in the way of guilt.  The guilt only comes when these last-second dashes disrupt other people, a kind of sad inevitability I suppose...

Anyway.  The notes will be posted here on Saturday, in accordance to the pattern I'm establishing.  Unlike the printed notes, I've restored the one major paragraph that was cut by my editor out of the published notes.  Thankfully, it seems my editor and I have seen more-or-less eye to eye on everything else though, and I'm immensely proud to know that my name will be printed at the end.  It's strange in a way, that while here in Truro, both of my dreams have come true in a way: not only have I found a place as a full time Lay Clerk in a Cathedral Choir, I'm also being paid to write, which (if you turn your head sideways and squint a bit), makes me a professional writer as well.  Look, if people can claim to be professional singers from doing the occasional concert and being paid to deputise as and when, then I can claim professionalism from writing the occasional blog and being paid for programme notes.  As wonderful as this realisation is... It sort of means I need to find a new dream.  Perhaps leaving here and finding a new appointment is the next big thing?  I'm certainly not going anywhere right now; not only is this the worst time for any Altos to do a disappearing act, but also and more critically, I just don't want to leave.  A vacancy recently came up in England, and I jumped to begin with... But then made a decision based more on value than cost.  Well, it would also cost me a hell of a lot to move as well, but things are really nice down here at the moment.

Of course it isn't all perfect.  Especially right now, funnily enough... The thing is, end of term is coming up and it's the end of the world in a way as well.  One of my reasons for looking for another appointment is kind of down to the size of the Choral Scholar team down here.  Building relationships with people that basically have an expiration date is pretty rough, and not something I'm wired up for.   Yes, there's a team of Lay Vicars that make up the rest of the choir, but they're older, have jobs, families, all sorts of other commitments that simply don't exist in my life.  There is a generational gap to bridge in that respect.  Now, there will be two more 'young' Lay Vicars next year (including one who is still a Scholar at time of writing), but who knows what's going to happen in the next few years?  They may not stay.  I may not stay!  Of course, the only sensible answer to this is not to worry, but since when the hell would I not want to worry?  it's an integral part of my personality.  I am still a very anxious person, even though I've been told how warm and engaging I am as well.  My low opinion of myself continues, and I may never really know exactly what I am capable of instead of always chalking up what I can't do.  But back to the point (har har), I actually deeply enjoy being in Truro Cathedral Choir.  For once, I don't have much against the establishment (how unlike me), and the odd disagreement I do have with the management normally gets hashed out where it belongs: in the pub over a few jars, where it can burn out harmlessly.  This kind of flare-up means it can get out of the system quicker, although there is the odd lasting grievance... I still get angry with mistakes from all quarters though, especially seeing how much I punish myself for my own.  I often wonder what would happen to my career if I allowed myself to make as many mistakes... But it's not as if I'd ever relax enough for that.  It seems that the one thing I have been relaxed enough for is some amateur transvestitism, donning wig and dress to help out our Organ Scholar in what I can only describe as a truly Vaudevillian concert, where I performed alongside her and friend in their organ duo. 

This year races towards the end as well.  After the pretty intense run up to the broadcast earlier this year, and the recording sessions, that while successful really did run all the way to the wire, this last half of term is just being eaten up fast.  This Saturday is the Summer Concert of course, For the Fallen, composed mainly of settings of trench poetry (having to deal with which for the notes has left me feeling pretty delicate), then a week after that we perform a reconstruction of a Lutheran Vespers, complete with two Cantatas by J. S. Bach... and then after that it's only a fortnight til close.  Although I hate change almost as much as my Boss does, I also can't stand to be alone, and the day that the Scholary empties this year will be a sad day indeed for me.  I'm also pretty much going to have to find a job this year, because really being poor forever kinda sucks, and I'd much rather have some truly disposable income that I can spend on whatever I like without having to budget like an insane person.  I have places to go and people to be with, and there's nothing so embarrassing as being paralysed by a lack of funds.  I'm sure there's some travel deity that I ought to be sacrificing burnt offerings to in thanks for my railcard, as without that I would be truly stuck.  I really want to get my automatic license this year as well, so I can get a little runaround and actually go wherever whenever around here, you know, as well as maybe drive up to see my dear mother every now and again.

It's almost time for work though.  With the recent upswing in temperature, I have taken to a slightly more...relaxed state of dress (basically bare-legged) underneath my cassock, and to be perfectly honest if it gets any hotter I'm just going to take to wearing a kaftan, to hell with it... All donations to my Kaftan fund are graciously received, of course.

As my head works itself back together though, I might just find some tome to enjoy myself after all.  make sure I don't get too bored.  Remember, life is short; smile a lot because you don't know how long you'll have teeth for.