The wandering organist

Well, where have I been? Having never been to a civil Remembrance day ceremony, I decided to do the Worthing one. I checked the website which said it started at 11 with the silence, followed by a march-past of local uniformed organisations. I thought this a little eccentric, so turned up about a quarter of an hour early to find about two to three hundred people there, scattered across Chapel Rd, which might be a bit of a challenge for the mach-past. A band was providing music on a sporadic basis, and at about five to the hour they ended Nimrod and there was a pause in proceedings. Well, I realised that the tannoy system must be faulty when at two minutes to the hour, a solo bugler sounded the last post. There had to have been some speech before that ("They shall not grow old..."). It was all the more obvious that things were not quite as they should be when, at 11am, with the maroon gone bang and the Town Hall bell chiming the hour the bugler was already halfway through so

Organist's view of the high altar Well, first Sunday away from the tied bench I wandered me over to St Mary, Kemptown, in Brighton. Such a friendly church, with all sorts of people. I love the way I don't stand out and can merge into the background more. This morning's service (All SS Sunday) also had 30 minutes of All Souls-tide remembrance (over 200 names read out), which stretched the service a weeeeny bit. My friend Alan Ireland was playing there for the first time, and did nicely improvising quietly over the congregational candle-lighting. Before the service he played some Mendelssohn I'd not heard before. He told me after it was the prelude to the G major P+F. The Bach Fantasia in c BWV 562 afterwards on full Great flues. Next week, no plans yet. Watch this space :-)

The other day, I saw someone wearing a T-shirt with the text "Surely not everyone  was kung-fu fighting?"

Went for a long weekend away, visiting friends in Shropshire and Wales. I tried to find a B&B but anything under £100/night long gone, as it was the last weekend of the school holidays. A reasonable self-catering place came up, not far from one friend, so I booked. Well, eccentric seems to be the word: a strong smell of joss-sticks in the hall of the cottage, magazines about permaculture everywhere, a "vegetarian kitchen" with a gas hob, electric oven but no saucepans over 4" diameter, about 40 plates and bowls but no drinking glasses. No microwave or electric kettle. The bedroom (ad said "sleeps 6") had three bunk beds in it, and a shower/toilet off. The sofa in the sitting room had elderly white loose covers which had seem better days. But I was only there two nights, and I can put up with most things. I did have to ask for a bath towel and kitchen washing up towel. There was also no TV or radio, but - and for this I was grateful - a builder's trann

A picture of the west end from 2010 Well, being titular organist means you have to deal with the choir library, whether small, large, or middling. St Botolph's library is large for a parish church, a legacy of days of yore when the choir was all-male with the number of boys in double figures. Now it's just double figures and all adult, but at least as competent. Double-choir stuff is out of the window (only one bass and alto), but they can do pretty much anything else. The library. Well, I was in for a nasty shock when I looked inside the folders. I had decided I needed to know what we actually had. The official index was about 10 years out-of-date, and to find stuff just ignore the index's idea, which was based on the position in a pile in a double-width cubby-hole: eg 1 A 13, being first cubby-hole, left hand pile, 13th down from the top. Hmm. Someone had changed this into alphabetical order, dividing anthems from settings, but not updated the index. So, out with th

Since January this year, I have been titular organist at St Botolph's church, Heene, in Worthing, so my wanderings have been reduced somewhat. My monthly wander to Holy Spirit , Southsea continues, and on the Sunday after Easter (known as "Low" Sunday, probably because of the number in the congregation is low) wandered with Cantores Vagantes to Salisbury Cathedral, one of England's gems. A "Father" Willis, built in 1876 and rebuilt with minimal change in 1934. Taking choir practice every week is a tie, but can be very rewarding. Today, I managed to overcome the missing pedal note (booked for repair in a week) and played a piece before the service on the extra organ, an electronic by Eminent. Widor's 5th Symphony, the 4th movement, a quiet one for strings and a solo 4' flute which can't be played on the pipe organ (no 4' flute). On this site , scroll down the page til you see 4 Adagio. It's the most gorgeous miniature and should be be

Completely off topic. But this is my page, so I can relax the rules if I wish. Here's the eulogy I wrote for Dad's funeral service : On joining the RAF To the nurses, to the care-workers, he was Edward. To family, to friends, and everyone, he was Ted. To the charities he volunteered for, he was Ted. RNLI, Cats Protection, RSPB, he helped or donated with equal enthusiasm, he was Ted. Ted came from a working-class family in the east end of London. Born in (officially) Shoreditch, his father was an upholsterer and his mother died not long after he was born. Leaving Elementary school, he started work and was called up when WWII started. In the RAF in Algeria, he told stories of the camp commander selling the food for the troops to local people and pocketing the money, leaving them with fresh fruit and figs to eat. The searchlights, which used silver ingots to provide the arc, remained unlit for reasons not entirely clear… After the war, he took advantage of

I am so lucky. Now that I have stopped wandering for the moment and roosted in St Botolph's, Heene, I discover that they applaud voluntaries, which is really sweet. It's lovely to feel appreciated, and I see so many posts in the online organ fora about people complaining that the voluntaries they play are criticised for being too long or loud. But the one I played last Sunday was a quiet one, Jehan Alain's Choral Cistercien (AWV62), and at the end was respectful silence, which said more than any applause could ever. I was quite touched.