Sunday, 7 September 2008

Greater love...

Hello everybody. What a day it's been! I scarce know where to start so I'll begin (in the immoral words of Dylan Thomas) at the beginning. So. Here goes. Are you sitting comfortably?
Sunday morning at the cathedral generally begins at nine o'clock sharp with a short rehearsal prior to the first of the morning's services. Today was no exception. We amused ourselves in the song school by following what the DoM actually beat for a change (tho' we set our own tempi in the service); we were informed that our first engagement with the new girls' choir would be in November (much to Rodney's relief); everyone looked very smart in newly washed and ironed surplii. Some of the younger choristers had even combed their hair! Even Drane (Dec Bass 1) was on good form for once (not boring one incessantly with the details of his holiday). We robed in the vestry and then lined up for the procession and... there, looking resplendent in her virginal white alb was the woman of my dreams. Oh, what a sight to behold. I caught her eye and definitely detected the slightest twinkle as she stood to attention for the Dean and Chapter, cross held aloft in her steady hands. After the service, over coffee, I made my move (I have been taking lessons from the Assistant Organist - he of the multiple conquests). And? I hear you cry. What happened? Do tell. And I will, dear reader, I will. But the details will have to be related at another time. I could not, for the love of God, tell you one snippet of the things we talked about. I cannot recall I single word I uttered. All I see now in the dim light of my study is the radiance of her face, the clear beauty of her eyes and the retrouche quality of her freckled nose. Oh Lord, open Thou our lips! Suffice to say that at luncheon I forswore the company of my fellow academical clerks and the cosy familiarity of Ye Olde Wisdom of Solomon for a little cafe that Felicia is in the habit of frequenting with her mother. We had a tolerable Welsh Rarebit and I bought the dear young thing a cup of camomile tea. (I myself showed the utmost restraint and ordered dandelion and burdock, whatever that is!) And we arranged to meet again, the very next time she's on the servers' rota. Oh, how my step was jaunty on the way back to the song school to prepare for evensong; how my mood was gay! Even the vocal contortioning of Howell's Gloucester Service was as music to my ears this afternoon. The Dean preached a reasonably interesting (and short) sermon and, as we left the cathedral the DoM handed us the music list for next week. And we've got Stanford in G on Wednesday. Stanford in G! And it's a Can verse week! Oh, there most certainly is a God after all, Mr Clack, and He is kind and benevolent and benign and omnipotent. And so to bed, altho' I fear I shall not sleep. I must, however, get a grip before the morning. Kayleigh's here, first thing, for another lesson.

12 comments:

Kevin Musgrove said...

What on earth are they putting in your tea these days?

Tenon_Saw said...

This sounds like good news! The Stanford would really have been the icing on the cake. Best of luck.

susan s. said...

This sounds wonderful! I love reading your blog and look forward to more about the lovely crucifer! Oh and Stanford to boot!

Doshea3 said...

And our mouth shall show forth Thy praise.

Gadjo Dilo said...

This is beautiful; I see Anthony Hopkins as you, with perhaps Emma Thompson as the young crucifer. It will all end happily, I'm sure, though you may be required to play this hide-and-seek game a little longer for the sake of drama :-)

Rob Clack said...

Hah! What a splendid post! Verily he hath filled the hungry with good things! (No I haven't changed my mind, I'm just going with the flow for now!) Good luck to you!

And in case anyone doesn't know the Stanford, I found this on YouTube.

The Poet Laura-eate said...

Blimey Can Bass 1 - good show!

Mind you 'tis said that the Virgin Mary is a bit of a challenge!

Seriously - bit of unsolicited advice if I may - don't put her on any sort of unnattainable pedestal, else you might make it a self-fufilling prophesy! Treat her with respect by all means, but also as a NORMAL human being - one whose company you enjoy but also are worthy of.

The biggest attraction from a female point of view is a chap who can talk to us and show a genuine interest in what we have to say - if he's also amusing and relaxed with us all the better! Oh, and well-groomed is a must in the manicure etc dept.

Hopefully she will return the compliment/s with interest.

Old Fogey said...

Laura is right. Slow down, slow down! Don't be so breathless. She's just a girl. (Aren't they lovely!) That's enough for any red blooded male but don't let the blood go to your head. Talk to her, gently - show an interest in her. Speak to her as a human being. Don't ask her to iron your shirts. Don't ask her to cook dinner. Be natural.
OF

Kevin Musgrove said...

...and make sure to let us know how you get on.

But remember to breathe. Please.

Lavinia said...

Amazing progress! Wow!One small step for mankind, one giant step for Can Bass 1. THe sap is rising.....steady as she goes...full speed ahead...damn the torpedoes...best of British luck to you pip pip and all that rot...okay I'm degenerating into hoary old cliches here so I'll sign off but your post put a smile on my face....things are definitely looking sunny-side up.

Sir Monocle said...

Old Fogey is right! Don't ask her to iron your shirts and don't ask her to cook dinner. But do find out if she knows how. Speaking of torpedoes, whetever you do, don't ask her how the Brustswerke.

Lucy Fishwife said...

"How sweet the name of Justin sounds in a believer's ear..." ...sorry, just having a flashback to my own days of concealed yearning in a pew...