I'm a (lay) choral-vicar in a 'not-too-bad' cathedral choir. That means I sing for a living. And when I'm not singing, I'm trying to teach others how to sing. It pays the rent. Ho hum.
Thursday, 4 September 2008
Well, what a summer! I must say, after the monsoon that has been August it has been a blessed relief to climb into September, laden as it is with fruit both real and metaphorical. A new choir term begins this weekend, and I have been in training for the vocal demands to come. (In fact - tell it not in Gath - I have been trying desperately to recover vocal abilities mothballed over the so-called summer. I have been a very bad teacher, doing none of the daily exercises I demand of my pupils!) However, on Sunday we commune with Palestrina - pleasant enough, if one likes that sort of thing - endure a little Mozart and then return to (English) normality with Stanford and - guess what? - Howell's Gloucester Service. Serendipity! Anyway, I for one am looking forward to the start of term; I have read the posts here on the blogosphere of many who regard it as the start of several more months of untrammelled misery. They are mostly schoolteachers, poor souls. (I have also read from some - parents, mostly - who regard it as a blessed relief from the company of their offspring!) But no - I shall iron my surplice and iron-out the few remaining wrinkles in the vocal-chord department and resume my duties on Sunday with renewed enthusiasm. Yes, even though the DoM is back in charge. (You may recall the so-called gentleman was on sabbatical last term.) Why? I hear you ask. Has Can Bass gone mad? Is he 'soft' in the head? Oh no, dear reader, no. Not soft in the head - but in the heart. For I have seen the wisdom that is the servers rota for this coming Sunday. And guess who's crucifer!
I'm a choral vicar in a not-too-bad cathedral choir although it could be better, if you ask me, if the Dean and Chapter bite the bullet and dismiss the lamentable failure of an organist. But that's another story...