The Church Choir

Those who know me today might well find it difficult to believe that I was once a member of the church choir. Surprisingly, this is indeed the case. I joined as a boy soprano aged about eight and remained in the choir until my voice broke, although I participated with great reluctance as time went on. We performed twice on a sunday, Matins and Evensong, and also sang at baptisms, weddings and funerals. For our appearence at the latter events we were paid the princly sum of half a crown, not an insubstantial amount for a boy to earn in the late 50s. We turned out in our cassocks, surplices and ruffs, appearences which luckily as far as I know, were never photographed. Sometimes we had to process around the church carrying candles and risking the hot wax falling on our hands. A special treat was to lead the procession carrying the cross.

Many of the village characters were amongst the adult tenors and when matins finished you could see them getting ready to head straight off to the pub. The link between their religious observances and drink was a close one.

I also remember singing in a memorable performance of Stainers 'Crucifixion' which seemed to take months of practice to get to a level acceptable for public performance. Usually though, our thursday evenings would be taken up with the more mundane level of practice needed to sustain the normal sunday services.

Eventually, my voice broke and that coincided with a growing realisation that I had little belief in religion in any form. I suppose that like many people, once I realised that growing religious disbelief was not likely to be met with a lightening strike, it became easier to move away from church involvement. There was however, a sense of comfort to be drawn from attending a service in a place where so many generations had prayed and sung long before your birth that I suspect you never quite lose.