Harwood in a flat

What do people think? Seriously, I welcome your views. There are parts of this mass that I like, but to my mind it shares certain common characteristics with the fault identified by the Emperor Franz-Joseph of Austria in the music of that overrated automaton Amadeus Mozart - too many notes; it goes on for far too long. Did they not have to sit and listen to interminable sermons in those days? (Hermeneutics yesterday, in case you're wondering. Herme-bloody-neutics! I ask you!). Anyway, I apprised the young boy - the Assistant DoM - of my views whilst handing him a copy of my latest Missa Brevis - the one in D. He took the piece of paper, turned it over and then promised he would look at it with greater care - although I have my doubts. Since arriving here last year (after the rather swift and sudden departure of the previous post-holder) the boy has been a veritable beacon of musicality and support. On the few occasions he conducts the choir he does so with a clearly discernible beat; his rehearsals are swift and to the point; he comes to the pub and stands his round. But it has been noted recently that his mind has been 'elsewhere', shall we say. Twenty miles elsewhere actually, at the home of his new girlfriend. I have called at the Assistant Organist's rabbit-hutch now on several occasions, only to find nobody at home. The curtains have been drawn all day. His little green car has been missing. Well, we here in the Cathedral Choir are all 'gentlemen of the world'. Some of us have even 'been there, done that' as they say (though who the devil 'they' are and how they know is quite another matter). There was even, once, a Mrs Can Bass - she now live in Rotherham with a bookmaker. But I digress. As Senior Choral Vicar, it fell to me to 'pop the question', as-it-were.
'Go on, old man' urged Rodney. 'We're all desperate to know' although we all know that what Rodney was desperate to know was merely whether he was still in with a chance.
'Her name is Jennifer' I told him later.
'Damn!' he said, and downed the remainder of his pint in one.
'Same again, old chap?' I asked.
'I suppose so' he replied, and by the time I got back from the bar I must say he had pulled himself together admirably.
'Now' he told me, confidentially as I sat back down beside him. 'I don't suppose you've got the number of that rather pretty alto-dep we had this morning?'