I Saw Three Ships - Truro Cathedral Choir Christmas Concert, saturday 13th December 2014

PROGRAMME

Come, thou Redeemer of the earth – Michael Praetorius
Chanticleer - Anonymous

Ding! Dong! Merrily on high! – Traditional, arr Mack Wilberg

I wonder as I wander – Philip Stopford

From Shirley Valentine – Will Russell

Quem Pastores – Traditional, arr Nigel Short
Soloist: Nicholas Hawker (tenor)

Away in a Manger – Traditional, arr Gary Cole
Soloist: Charlie Hodgkiss (tenor)
A hymn on the nativity – Ben Jonson

O magnum mysterium – Morten Laurisden
Christmas at sea – RL Stevenson

I saw three ships – Traditional, arr Philip Marshall

INTERVAL

The house of Christmas – GK Chesterton

A spotless rose – Herbert Howells
Soloist: Jacob Dennison (bass)

There is no rose – John Joubert

Benedicamus Domino – Peter Warlock
Christmas carol – Eleanor Fajeon

Christmas Blessing – Philip Stopford

 What sweeter music – John Rutter

Christmas Truce – Captain Armes

Christmas Truce – Graham Fitkin
Crowd scene – Brian Moses

The twelve days of Christmas – Traditional, arr John Rutter

WORDS AND PROGRAMME NOTES

Come, thou Redeemer of the earth – Michael Praetorius

This venerable hymn dates from the 4th century, with four of the original eight verses sung to the tune Puer Nobis Nascitur (A boy is born to us), which comes from a 15th century manuscript from Trier. In the span of the selected verses, we touch on the life of Christ, the first two verses corresponding to Advent and Christmas, verse 3 looking to the Resurrection, and verse 4 concluding the cycle of praise to the holy trinity, not only to “God the Father” but also to the “eternal Son”, and finally the “Holy Paraclete”, reflected in the Grace said at the end of Evensong. The melody is a perfect arch, with the pitch rising towards the centre of the verses before returning whence it came, a perfect partner to the words themselves.

Come, Thou Redeemer of the earth,
and manifest Thy virgin birth:
let every age adoring fall;
such birth befits the God of all.

Begotten of no human will,
but of the Spirit, Thou art still
the Word of God in flesh arrayed,
the promised fruit to man displayed.

From God the Father He proceeds,
To God the Father back He speeds;
His course He runs to death and hell,
Returning on God's throne to dwell.

All laud to God the Father be,
All praise, eternal Son, to Thee,
All glory, as is ever meet,
To God the Holy Paraclete.

Words: St Ambrose of Milan

Ding! Dong! Merrily on high! – Traditional, arr Mack Wilberg

This is a true Christmas classic known the world over, and Wilberg's arrangement is a real festive tour de force. The tune is taken from a collection of 15th century French secular dances, while Woodward's words come from 1924 and bring together his interests in bell ringing and archaic poetry. Wilberg's sparkling organ part adds a real shine, while the unaccompanied verse, with its dings and dongs in the lower voices, provides a moment of humour in an already jolly carol. The final phrase builds to a huge climax, leaving the carol ringing out like the bells that inspired it.

Ding! dong! merrily on high in heav'n the bells are ringing!
Ding! dong! verily the sky is riv'n with angels singing!
Gloria!  Hosanna in excelsis!

E'en so here below, below, let steeple bells be swungen,
And “I-o i-o i-o!” by priest and people sungen!
Gloria!  Hosanna in excelsis!

Pray you, dutifully prime your matin chime, ye ringers!
May you beautifully rime your evetime song, ye singers!
Gloria!  Hosanna in excelsis!

Words: G R Woodward

I wonder as I wander – Philip Stopford

Philip Stopford is a leading composer of his generation and one time Organ Scholar here at Truro Cathedral. His accessible, uncomplicated style and gift for melody are making sure his music is becoming a firm favourite with choirs of every level. His Celtic-flavoured music setting this Appalachian folksong opens with a flowing melody, before a simple chorale-style harmonisation.  Stopford uses the opening line with an unexpected harmonic twist to create a sense of space in the centre of the piece.  The final verse has a treble descant, before the reiteration of the final line, “he was the king”, staying strong to the end. 

I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor lowly people like you and like I,
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.

When Mary birthed Jesus 'twas in a cow's stall
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all,
But high from the heavens a star's light did fall,
And promise of ages it did then recall.

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing,
A star in the heaven or a bird on the wing,
Or all of God's angels in heaven for to sing,
He surely could have it for he was the king.

Words: John Jacob Niles


Quem Pastores – Traditional, arr Nigel Short
Soloist: Nicholas Hawker (tenor)
 

Nigel Short's CV reads like a “who's who” in choral music, including singing in both Westminster Abbey and Westminster Cathedral choirs, the King's Singers, and founding director of the acclaimed professional choir Tenebrae. The words and melody for this carol evoke their 14th century roots, while the harmony is very firmly modern, using extended, jazzy chords. The tune passes from the trebles to a tenor soloist supported by divided tenors and basses, and finally moves to the altos accompanied by the full choir. This ancient carol is transformed by the surprising and exciting harmonies with which Short underpins the melody, while still maintaining the gentle, pastoral feel.

Quem pastores laudavere,
Quibus angeli dixere,
Absit vobis iam timere,
natus est rex gloriae

Ad quem magi ambulant,
Aurum, thus, myrrham portabant,
Immolabant haec sincere
Nato regi gloriae

Christo regi, Deo nato,
Per Mariam nobis dato
Merito resonet vere,
laus honor et gloriae

Shepherds came, their praises bringing,
who had heard the angels singing:
'Far from you be fear unruly,
Christ is King of glory born.'

Wise men whom a star had guided
incense, gold, and myrrh provided,
made their sacrifices truly
to the king of glory born.

Jesus born the King of heaven,
Christ to us through Mary given,
to your praise and honour duly
be resounding glory done.

Words: Anonymous German, 14th Century

 
Away in a manger – Traditional, arr Gary Cole
Soloist: Charlie Hodgkiss 

This is Gary Cole's arrangement of another Christmas favourite, and shows that a modern approach can breathe new life into a traditional tune. W J Kirkpatrick's melody is easily recognisable amongst the rich choral accompaniment. Each stanza modulates to a new key, with a tenor soloist singing the tune in the middle of the harmonic texture in the second verse. A final step up into the last verse leads to a more familiar, almost chorale-like treatment of the tune, with interesting harmonic moments, before coming to a gentle close.

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,

the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.

The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay,

the little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.

The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,

but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes;

I love thee, Lord Jesus! Look down from the sky

and stay by my side till morning is nigh.

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay

close by me forever, and love me, I pray;

bless all the dear children in thy tender care,

and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

Words: Anonymous, verses 1&2 published 1884, verse 3 published 1892

O magnum mysterium – Morten Laurisden

Rather than a shout for joy, Laurisden's setting of this Matins responsory text is much more inward looking; a quiet affirmation of the beautiful majesty of Christ's birth, with just as much emotional intensity as any of the numerous other settings. A work of brilliance through understatement, it reflects on the image of Mary as mother the baby Jesus and ponders the great mystery (magnum mysterium) that God Almighty would choose to come to earth as a vulnerable child, born in a humble manger, using constantly moving harmony and dissonance to draw the listener's attention to the words.  The “Alleluia” that ends the piece has the same introspection that characterises this beautiful anthem.

O magnum mysterium,
et admirabile sacramentum,
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,
jacentem in praesepio!
Beata Virgo, cujus viscera meruerunt,
portare Dominum Christum.
Alleluia!

O great mystery,
and woundrous sacrament,
that animals should see the new-born Lord,
lying in their manger!
Blessed is the Virgin whose womb was worthy to bear the Lord Jesus Christ.
Alleluia!
 
Words from the fourth of nine responsories for Matins of Christmas Day


I saw three ships – Traditional, arr Philip Marshall 

Marshall's arrangement of this traditional English carol can be summed up in a mood of fun, using all the resources of the full choir and organ, from upper and lower voices alone to thrilling descants and a verse for men's voices to provide a rich, energetic and always interesting arrangement of all nine verses. While the tune is based on the familiar “Greensleeves”, which three ships the words refer to exactly is not quite as clear. Could they be the camels, the “ships of the desert”, that brought the three kings? Regardless, this is another refreshing arrangement of a well-loved traditional carol.

I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day in the morning.

And what was in those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?

Our Saviour Christ and His lady,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Pray whither sailed those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?

O they sailed into Bethlehem,
On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the angels in Heav’n shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the souls on Earth shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Then let us all rejoice amain,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Words: Anonymous, published in Sandys' Christmas Carols Ancient and Modern, 1833


INTERVAL


A spotless rose – Herbert Howells
Soloist: Jacob Dennison 

A stand-out in early 20th century repertoire, this mini-masterpiece is loved by choirs around the world. Smooth and melodic, Howells sets two verses of the German carol “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen” in translation, using tasteful modal harmony to reflect the devotional nature of the text, which references the prophets of the Old Testament who predicted the birth of the Messiah, God's Chosen One. Howells continually changes time signature in order to reflect the natural spoken rhythms of the words themselves. He chooses to set the second verse twice, the first time led by a warm Baritone solo with the choir accompanying distantly, and then repeating with the full choir.

A spotless rose is blowing
Sprung from a tender root,
Of ancient seers’ foreshowing,
Of Jesse promised fruit;
Its fairest bud unfolds to light
Amid the cold, cold winter
And in the dark midnight.

The rose which I am singing,
Whereof Isaiah said,
Is from its sweet root springing
In Mary, purest Maid;
For through our God’s great love and might
The blessed babe she bare us
In a cold, cold winter’s night.

Words: Anonymous German 16th century, translated by Catherine Winkworth


There is no rose – John Joubert

Joubert's delicate carol draws on mediaeval influences to illuminate this 15th century text that, like so many carols tonight, describes the mystery of the nativity. The 'rose' spoken of is the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom this Cathedral church is dedicated. The opening verse is sung by the trebles and altos, with a melody that has unexpected leaps; this gives way to the Alleluia that moves in a more step-wise fashion, reminiscent of plainsong.  Each verse ends with a Latin salutation: Alleluia, of rejoicing; Res miranda, the wonder of the immaculate conception; Pares forma, that God is given form equal to mortal men; Transeamus, that we must go to the manger to see the birth of Christ.

There is no rose of such virtue
As is the rose that bare Jesu:
Alleluia (Alleluia!)

For in this rose contained was
Heav'n and earth in little space:
Res miranda (thing of wonder)

By that rose we may well see
There be one God in persons three:
Pares forma (Equal in form)

Then leave we all this worldly mirth
And follow we this joyful birth:
Transeamus (Let us go!)

Words: Anonymous English, c. 1420


Benedicamus Domino – Peter Warlock

Composed in 1918, this rousing carol sets words from another 15th century manuscript source, and captures a festal mood. It is harmonically quite straightforward, especially compared to the majority of Warlock's output, with moments of light and shadow created by the fleeting appearance of minor moments in this otherwise major tonality, setting the stage for the bustling rhythms and varied use of choral textures. Warlock (whose real name was Philip Heseltine) was a regular visitor to Cornwall during his life and even stayed in the Tinner’s Arms in Zennor.

Procedenti puero
Eya, nobis annus est!
Virginis ex utero
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

Sine viri semine
Eya, nobis annus est!
Natus est de virgine
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

Sine viri copia
Eya, nobis annus est!
Natus est ex Maria
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

In hoc festo determino
Eya, nobis annus est!
Benedicamus Domino!
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

A boy comes forth,
Eya, this is our time,
From the womb of a virgin.
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

Without the seed of a man
Eya, this is our time,
He is born of a virgin.
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

Without the means of a man,
Eya, this is our time,
He is born of Mary
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

On this appointed feast,
Eya, this is our time,
Let us bless the Lord.
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

Words from the Sloane MS


Christmas Blessing – Philip Stopford

This lilting benediction is another fine example of Stopford's uncomplicated and melodic style. Set for three-part treble voices, it uses a text selected from the Church of Ireland's Book of Common Prayer, which Stopford would have known from his time as Organist at St Anne's Cathedral, Belfast. The smooth and flowing textures state the words clearly and calmly, fitting the nature of the prayer itself.

May the joy of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
the worship of the wise men,
and the peace of the Christ child
be yours this Christmas;
May Christ who by his incarnation
gathered into one all things earthy,
all things heavenly and fill you with joy and peace;
And the blessing of God,
the father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,
be with you and remain with you always.
Amen.

Words from the Church of Ireland Book of Common Prayer, adapted by Stopford


What sweeter music – John Rutter 

While Stopford may be leading a new generation of composers specialising in accessible music, John Rutter can be considered the establishment. Both his arrangements and his original compositions, especially his carols, are well-known by choirs of all ages. Most famously used in the United states for a car commercial, this carol was written for the choir of King's College, Cambridge, and shows Rutter's ease for both melody and word setting. While the words, written originally by Robert Herrick, an English 17th century poet, are rooted in a metaphysical tradition, they are much lighter in style that texts by more famous poets like George Herbert or John Donne.

What sweeter music can we bring,
Than a carol, for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice! Awake the string!
Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honour to this day
That sees December turned to May.

Why does the chilling winter’s morn
Smile, like a field beset with corn?
Or smell like a meadow newly-shorn
Thus, on the sudden? Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be:
‘Tis he is born, whose quickening birth
Gives life and lustre, public mirth,
To heaven, and the under-earth.

We see him come, and know him ours,
Who, with his sunshine and his showers,
Turns all the patient ground to flowers.
The darling of the world is come,
And fit it is, we find a room
To welcome him, to welcome him.

The nobler part,
Of all the house here, is the heart,
Which we will give him; and bequeath
This holly, and this ivy wreath,
To do him honour; who’s our King,
And Lord of all this revelling.

Words: Robert Herrick, adapted by Rutter


Christmas Truce – Graham Fitkin

This piece sets the poem “A carol from Flanders” by Frederick Niven (1878-1944), which recounts the spontaneous Christmas Truce that occurred across the Western Front in 1914. It was commissioned by Truro Cathedral for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols in 2011.  

The text is an account of the events that took place on Christmas Eve, 1914, without tying it down to just one place. Almost six months into the war, the battles of attrition had not only taken their toll on the opposing armies but also the land itself, with the infamous “No Man's Land” standing between miles of barbed wire trenches, but also the men themselves. Stories that seem fantastic with historical hindsight abound, and have taken on a mythic status: Tales of men waving flags, singing carols to each other, playing football and exchanging gifts, stories of home, and sharing packets of cigarettes that took place were reported to senior officers on both sides, who quickly ordered that the men resume shooting at each other. 
Fitkin creates an uncertain atmosphere from the start, by just using the trebles singing a plaintive tune over divided altos and tenors, with all three parts coming in together on “but neither cared to fire first”. The basses enter after the first statement of “for it was Christmas Day”, and the tune moves to the tenors in the centre of the texture. The arch-like phrases slowly build, with a clear, homophonic texture. The line “Not all the Kings and financiers, and they who rule us could prevent these things” is a direct reference to the orders issued to restart the fighting, which were ignored in isolated pockets. The carol reaches its climax with the words “God speed the time when every day shall be Christmas day.” The basses hold a great pedal note, like an organ, while trebles, altos and tenors divided into six parts above repeat “Christmas day”; a rich, celebratory sound. The last statement of “Christmas Day” is left hanging on a dissonant chord cluster, full of anguish, a reminder that the war continued for a four more years.

In Flanders on Christmas morn

The trenched foreman lay,
The German and the Briton born,
And it was Christmas Day.

The red sun rose on fields accurst,
The grey fog fled away;
But neither cared to fire first,
For it was Christmas Day!

They called out from each to each
Across the disarray,
For dreadful had been their loss:
"Oh, this is Christmas Day!"

Their rifles set aside,
One impulse to obey;
'Twas just the men on either side,
Just men — and Christmas Day.

They dug graves for all their dead
And over them did pray:
And Englishmen and Germans said:
"How strange a Christmas Day!"

Between the trenches then they met,
Shook hands, and e'en did play
At games on which their hearts were set
On happy Christmas Day.

Not all the kings
And financiers and they
Who rule us could prevent these things —
For it was Christmas Day.

Oh ye who read this truthful rime
From Flanders, kneel and say:
God speed the time when every day
Shall be Christmas Day.

Words:  Frederick Niven
(First performance 23rd December 2011 at Truro Cathedral)


The twelve days of Christmas – Traditional, arr John Rutter

Finally, we return to John Rutter to round off the concert with his fantastic arrangement of this traditional festive favourite. The tune we use today was formalised in 1909 by the English composer Frederic Austin, who added the now famous  phrase at “five gold rings”.  Although it is probably of French origin, the best-known version of the words, which detail an almost impossible and ever-expanding list of gifts come from England in 1780, published in the children's book “Mirth without Mischief”. In this arrangement, all four choir parts get a go at the opening tune before the “fifth day” where they join in harmony each time.  Rutter varies the forces in a colourful, often witty manner, to reflect the words in each verse, with the accompaniment bubbling away underneath to build to a rousing conclusion: Mirth without mischief indeed!

On the first day of Christmas,

My true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Twelve drummers drumming,
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.


Programme notes by Paul-Ethan Bright

O Amica Mea

I bet you all thought I'd forget, didn't you?  No such luck.

It's been a long month off, as well.  Somehow, I managed to survive Christmas, and then New Year happened and that was... Uninspiring, to say the bare minimum (Captain's top tip: Don't stick around if the option to go back to Derby is there), and now here we are in the...third(?) week of January, tumbling towards my quarter century.  OH MY GOD.

I know what I've said.  I know I hate all those soul destroying platitudes.  I know.  But I'm starting to feel that I'm getting to a point in my life where I kind of just don't really have much to show for it?  No, I'm certain.  I definitely feel like I could have more.  AND SO BEGINS THE PRELUDE TO MY MIDLIFE CRISIS.  No, but seriously.  I also dimly recall saying that I don't want to get stuck in Truro, and I almost feel the abyss yawn in front of me.  I'm going to be 25 on Friday.  Jeez.  New year, new...?

I'll level with you, I started off planning this on Saturday and I was angry as shit, I mean, I was like, "How mad can one guy get?", an illegitimate voice in an illegitimate age.  Unsurprisingly, that I didn't sit and just crash through writing it all in one go, I've calmed down a little bit, you know; ever so slightly.  Lately I've taken to reading a lot again (which may or may not have something to do with the fact that the power adapter to my keyboard hasn't worked properly for months), and soaking up a ton of English satire (Charlie Brooker), American trangressive nihilism (Chuck Palahniuk), and Bohemian modernism (Franz Kafka) (look how intellectual I am eh) has taught me that if I spend too long just looking at my boring and unfulfilling life (oh is it though) that nothing will really happen and I'll just sit around having decided that I'll be miserable forever and yadda yadda yadda you get the point.  I'm about halfway through The Trial, and I already feel like my life is some kind of dark reflection of Josef K., not especially being on trial per se, but more that I'm trapped by what appears to be my own idiocy, and an inability to ask the right questions to find the way out of some mysterious arrest.  Some kind of existential hall of mirrors.  Or something.  

I digress.  I do need to actually get something together, namely my life.  But this is frightening.  Change is inherently terrifying to me.  I might not have capitalised But the discussions have started already, and there is a very lightly penciled exit timetable that may or may not fluctuate wildly in the coming year - I do joke about merely having to change the date at the top of the letter of resignation... But actually it would require a substantial redrafting.  A bit of tuning up.  I understand that I have to make an almost concrete plan that could at any time be shattered, but as long as I have the basics sorted I ought to be able to roll with it.  I feel I kind of wasted a lot of time at Uni just not doing stuff, I owe it to myself to do something really exciting.  I mean, really.  And I'll need money of course.

Speaking of money though, I'm pleased to report that I'm also starting the ball rolling on my plans to travel across the pond.  I haven't got two maple leaf flags hung on the mirrors in my room for nothing, after all.  I'd love to go in the summer, but the small matter of choir tour to Northern France and Belgium and all the money I'd need for that might get in the way.  I can't remember how much money I took to Sweden with me to begin with, but I do remember that it wasn't remotely enough.  I took another 50 quid out through an immensely expensive transfer place in Stockholm and spending every last Crown.  Choir tour is the only regular foreign holiday I take, so I try to enjoy it as much as possible.  Hopefully we can bring Cardinal Sin along as some kind of choir mascot, and he can sit in a flowerpot again.

As for the schedule, I haven't given up on it, but I realise I need to tighten my form up a lot, you know, a bit of structure isn't going to hurt anybody is it?  Tuesdays are still going to be the front and centre "ooooo I hate everything especially myself" kind of thing, just in case you were worried for a moment.  I'd hate for you to worry. I put a nice new background on the page, so why not write in to tell me how much you like it and I'll be back on Thursday!

Carte Postale - Farewell 2014

I've been telling myself I was going to write this for weeks.  Weeks and weeks and weeks... You get the point.

This is also a notice of temporary closure, of course.  I've been failing to keep a grip on my own self-imposed schedule for too long almost, although Christmas has a habit of doing that to you.  Notwithstanding the fact that I hate Christmas, having to be fucking jolly all the time, more the fact that there's just so much choir to deal with.  This year in particular has been particularly not stress free, what with the world premieres for the Advent Carol Service, the usual concert madness, and then another world first in filming Nine Lessons and Carols for DVD release (including the incredible disappearing red hat)... But then normal service resumed with Festal Curry, all the descants and what I can only describe as the Festival of English Cadences on Christmas Morning.  Honourable mention goes to the Lay Clerks of Peterborough Cathedral, who lost one of their own this Christmas, which must have been (and probably still is) nothing short of just... The worst.

It's impossible not to write something today without some kind of token comment about the year as well, so much so that I even anticipated it in the title.  2014 has been a weird one.  I lost one on my best mates.  I watched another one get married.  What is it with these caffeine shampoo adverts that are taking over my ad breaks?  It becomes increasingly difficult to think about this year clearly as we barrel towards the start of the next.  What's really happened?  I suppose the more relevant question is "what's going to happen next?".  I suppose you're expecting me to make some sort of list of resolutions?  Please.  There are a couple of things that I have to do, true, but it's not like I'm ever going to do anything so ridiculous as make a resolution.  The last resolution I made was never to make a New Year's resolution again, and that was 2009.  Yes, I really did that... 

Anyway.  Temporary closure.  I say closure.  I'm going to give publishing a rest for a fortnight officially, and try to just... Catch up on the schedule I tried to establish.  Every Christmas I let choir take over my life, so I fell behind.  There's also a theory knocking about that I've been quite seriously depressed (again), which I'd hardly like to comment on here and now.  I haven't written anything about the books I've read, and I owe somebody a recipe.  I also need to sort my life out (just like always).  New Year might be as good a time as any to do so, but what about all the other days of the year?  It's never too late.

The last blog I ran came to a natural end and fulfilled its purpose, a backdrop to being miserable in houses and having a dreadful time singing.  No choir director has accused me of lying again or since, thankfully.  This time, there isn't really a purpose, which is probably one of the reasons I've found it so easy to not write recently.  Such a poor excuse... I'm sorry, he said to himself.  I need to stop torturing myself.  I need to think hard about what's going to happen next, my immediate future and also my future at large: not an easy task.  I've never had a five year plan because five years is an impossibly long time for me to imagine.  In 17 days, I'll be 25, which means I'll have lived through five of these five year blocks, but it's okay because the digits add up to 7, which means everything will be alright... Right?  I remember giving something very precious on the 7th of the 7th.  That was good.  I didn't say half the things I meant to or I wanted to, and that was just that day, let alone all the others.

This is the first New Year since I moved out that I haven't been home.  I'm not sure that I like it really.  At least had I have gone back up, I could have sat in HQ until I was no longer sober.  This year... Money's tight.  Tighter than comfortable.  I shouldn't really go out drinking, could you imagine the money I'd hemorrhage!  Invites to parties and whatever are completely lacking, which tells me all I need to know. 

This is the last you'll hear from here for a little bit.  Give me a fortnight or something, but don't call it a comeback.  Think of me, sat drinking tea and pepsi, watching films and reading cookery books into eternity.  Focus your prayers and positive energy so I can discover my true purpose in this life.  Call on your Gods.  I recently bought this quality volume of hardcore pornography (right) - something to keep me warm through these lonely winter nights, of which much will be forthcoming.  If you're lucky, I might even make you a bagel.  Might.





Anyway, it's almost time.  There's just under 8 hours to go here until it breaks, and I can't wait, I can HARDLY CONTAIN MYSELF for another thrilling and exciting year to come, can you?  It can hardly be worse than this one (dangerous talk), can it?  

I'll see you on the other side.

Eat it: LL&P

Lamb, Leek and Potato!  I swear it's more interesting than it sounds.

There are no photos for this, I apologise, but there weren't any for the last recipe (but I am sending pictures for fish of the day - more on that later), so whatever.  I'm normally actually cooking rather than thinking about taking photos of food (unless I'm going to instagram it OF COURSE).  This week, a classic: Lamb steak with saute potatoes and leek

INGREDIENTS

Leg of Lamb steak       New or Baby Potatoes       Half a Leek (the white half)       
4-5 rashers of smoked bacon       Dried Herbs: Rosemary, Sage and Oregano       Salt and Pepper

METHOD

First of all, prep everything.  I chuck stuff into bowls so it's all ready to go rather than leave it lying around on the board (because I only have the one chopping board anyway), so get the veg ready to go.  I cube the potatoes really quite small, like less than a half inch, maybe a centimetre (whatever that is) cubed for this.  I'd say it'll work with any size but the larger the cubes the longer it'll take to cook.  I slice mine into thirds to get the right size here, but it's really up to you.  I go for 3 or 4 potatoes, you want enough to cover the frying pan you'll be using.  Cut the root end off the leek and then halve that again, so you have two semicircular bits, and slice them up.  Then chop the bacon rashers down into little strips - Lardons will also work here, but I had some leftover from another meal I prepared.  With all these ready, set them aside and get a heavy bottomed frying pan on medium to high heat with some olive oil in.

Spread some olive oil on the board and lay the lamb steaks on top.  I bought some prepacked nonsense from the Co-Op because it was reduced to mere pennies, but never forget your local butcher is far more likely to know more and be extremely helpful with this kind of thing.  Don't get anything too thin, we're not frying featherblades here.  Cut diagonally across the surface of the meat on both sides, and don't be afraid to cut either through the fat on the side or too deep (well, not too deep).  Rub in the dried herbs and the salt and pepper - my learned colleague Petrus Humanus once waxed lyrical about the virtues of sage and he is not wrong my friends, it is excellent.  

Place the steaks into the frying pan with the fatty side touching the edge.  Now, I like my lamb pretty rare, but something like 3 minutes on one side and then two minutes on the other should be perfect.  Set them aside on a plate and get the bacon in the pan.  If you need to, put a drop more olive oil in to make sure it doesn't stick too much.  Once the bacon is merrily sizzling, add in the potato and the leek, and turn the heat down a little, and add a pinch of salt to the proceedings.  I'll be honest here - I don't really keep my eye on the time for this, but stir occasionally and look out for the corners of the potato cubes to colour for how near it is to be ready.  Once their getting a little crisp, reintroduce the lam to the pan and pour in any juices from the plate they sat on.  Shake the pan to ensure that everything gets covered in all the juices and stuff and let it cook out for 2-3 minutes.  Take off the heat and get the saute onto the plate and place the steaks on top.  Service!

@~#~@

This kind of meat and potatoes schtick is a tale as old as time (a song as old as rhyme?) and you can pretty much apply it to anything.  I chose the leek to accompany lamb with its slightly more subtle flavour; if I was pan frying chicken with this, I'd use a red onion.  Anyway, this is an easy supper for one that shouldn't take more than a half hour start to finish.

Next week: Fish of the Day - a guest appearance somewhere else!  Hopefully.  When I actually write it. 

Remember Me

It's almost time to free fall into the end of the year.  Fantastic.

I don't know how many times I use that expression, actually.  We're always free falling into the end of a year, because that's the only way that a year seems to end nowadays.  Choir is basically my life, after all; I don't think there's any other way to really explain it.  It's either the end of the 'Christian year', or it's the end of the calendar year, or it's the end of yet another year singing and time for my anniversary (this one will be my 17th!), or it's the end of the academic year and then everything really is over.  Will I cry this year?  Or will I finally have got over myself?  Will I finally learn that people just... Move on?  Perhaps I need to move on in order to fully understand.  I always say I never want to get stuck here, after all.

I hate Christmas.  No, wait: I really hate what Christmas has become.  No longer is Advent the sober prelude to one of the central points of belief in one of the dominant world religions (or that crazy made up cult, as I like to refer to it when it's all getting a little too serious round here), but is actually now the whole thing!  People put trees up and decorate their houses by mid-November, decorations are up in shops by the end of October!  It's too much, Master.  Worst of all is when you're not "on message", like me: persecuted for not being manically happy every second of every day and I get funny looks for not having my shit together on Christmas shopping and get victimised for not liking mince pies.  I've had it!  Even the Coca Cola truck has already been halfway round the country by now!

Christmas is of course the time of year that choirs reach critical mass, and there's more rehearsals and carol service and actually carols than ought to be strictly legal, people trying to get you to work for free, potentially horrific Secret Santa, and of course, the all important nights out after all the concerts and carols and carol concerts.  My voice is already shattered this year, after taking the extremely professional and effective decision of singing through a head cold... Although I don't really have much choice in the matter on that one.  The real problem is that I'm fast running out of homeopathic remedies (because I am obviously a dirty, dirty hippy), and if I take any more decongestants full of paracetamol I'll either ossify my throat or not be able to stop vomiting, neither of which are particularly inspiring or useful in my dream career as Cathedral Lay Clark and programme note writer - speaking of which THEY'RE DONE and will be up here on Sunday after the concert.  The fact that my voice just basically isn't working at critical strength, especially right now is a major downer on basically everything.  I kind of feel that I'm no good at what I'm supposed to be good at, so what hope do I have for anything else?

I dunno.  It'll be alright in the end, just like it is every year.  This year isn't exactly calm, due to recording the Nine Lessons and Carols on the 23rd, not to mention the usual Concert-9L&C-Midnight Mass-Christmas Day combo that plays out over just under a fortnight round here, and probably everywhere else.  Also on the cards this year is a concert in St. Mawes which ought to raise some much-appreciated funds for the tour to Belgium and northern France this summer.  I mean, it is the 100th anniversary of the Great War after all, so it would be a shame not to go... Actually, I'll probably be neither use nor ornament for most of it.  I spent ten hours sat at this very Kitchen table in June writing the notes for the Summer concert, the first half entirely composed of settings of WWI poetry, and must have cried my eyes out for four of them.  There's just something about having to condense that kind of stuff down without getting kind of sucked in to it - I can get to that place where it's all upset but I can't exactly get myself out again.  I don't remember having to fight for too much with the edit either... Anyway.  I digress.

I guess this is a kind of unwell, grumpy kind of post.  Another thing I seem to be overly aware of is the amount of young couples going round town at the moment - I suppose Christmas is meant to be romantic?  I constantly berate myself for not being able to get a date, and blame myself completely for the string of relationships I've had that start with so much promise... But end so badly.  It's almost as if I betray myself time after time, showing a consistent interest in people who have absolutely no feelings for me at all, and I've kind of moved to a position where I feel I have accept that I will just always be like this, you know, and I'm okay with that... And I am not okay with that.  Oh well.  I actively reject any kind of sympathy, but it's just something I've been thinking about, and if I can get it out here then maybe I can accept it and move on.  I do get angry though, that things just don't work.  

Anyway.  That's probably enough moaning for now.  I'm going to retire to my deliberately very cold room, and see how long it takes for me to freeze solid (update: 9 days and counting), and then hopefully by the time I wake up tomorrow, you never know... I might actually even feel better.