another year

As I sit here in my study it is almost time for the chimes at midnight to strike the end of my birthday.

A day of humbling joy, a day of cards and gifts and good wishes and generosity that has taken me by surprise. A day that has almost swept my heart away with the kindness of people and the love of God.

I have not been looking forwards to this day. It has felt like the end of something. But the sheer wonder of receiving so much from so many has made it feel far more like the beginning of something. Perhaps I have been looking backwards too much lately: so much, in fact, that I have failed to notice the beauty of the present - which has been the real gift of this day.

On the old organ at St Aldate's in Oxford there was a card with this verse from St Paul, and perhaps I feel the wisdom of it just now: "forgetting what is behind and straining towards what is ahead, I press on towards the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenwards in Christ Jesus".

And there are those chimes, right on cue.

The photo is of me and Matt, this evening, late.

History Boy

Spent a pleasant evening yesterday watching Alan Bennett's play "The History Boys" in Cardiff. The film gave me a great nostalgic trip a few weeks ago - the play less so.

And yet, the final line of the play carried with it a poignancy and a sense of urgent futility that struck me as one of the most beautiful lines I have ever heard from the stage.

After all the "success" of the eight boys achieving their Oxbridge places from their hapless northern grammar school, after their seventh term studies and shenanigans, after their teachers present foibles and future failings are made abundantly clear, after the boys' own ordinary ways forward are revealed, the newly deceased Hector emerges behind them in their grieving reverie to encourage them onwards:

"Pass it on, boys," he urges, "pass it on!" Curtain down.

As I say, I found this to be a stunning end. For in that group of lads, all fail. The communicators (teacher Irwin, journalist Scripps) are portrayed as passing things on - but words and not beauty, self and mockery without self-mockery that makes either tolerable. The one who loves beauty in the abstract - Posner - is seen as lost in his own little world, communicating nothing. The one who chases beauty in the concrete at school (Dakin) now chases unlovely money. The rest vary from the worthy to the warped - but principally are forgettable. Which Hector was not.

Pass it on. To whom? How? It seems they found education was just for exams after all. Irwin won; Hector lost.

And I sat there, thinking of all the teachers I enjoyed at school. Robin Taylor, Jack Longstaff, David Ramm, Lynn Martindale, Graeme Slack, Alan Petford, Mme Lindley, Tim Heavisides, a myriad more. All those at university who made me stand up for myself, like Henry Mayr Harting and Roger Highfield. Those at Wycliffe like Tom Wright, David Wenham and Alister McGrath who made my brain think theologically. And in my life I find myself to be a deeply flawed human being treading in the footsteps of deeply flawed human beings, handling the precious gifts of a faith that is more valuable than I know how to say.

All the gifts those guys gave me at school, university and theological college - skills and visions and imaginings and the like - now fill my life as I hear Hector's words as Jesus' charge to me:

Pass it on, boy, pass it on.

Casino Royale

Loved it. Not perfect, but fantastic Bond. Superb acting, great set pieces, good music (nice nods to former film scores along the way - especially in the brief "falling in love/recuperation sequence", very OHMSS); slightly messy storyline with too many endings - although the final, final ending might be one of the best endings of any Bond movie ever.
Thank goodness for a real actor and a decent director.

Ageing Gracefully

November 1st 2006. So begins my final month of this decade of my life.

Today is that significant birthday for Andrew Dunne, oldest of my friends, in that I have known him (with gaps) all my life. We went to infant school together. In the picture he is at the bottom left, I am at the top right. We are 6, or maybe 7 years old. Mrs Mason's class. These days we both have a lot less hair, and I think are less likely to be seen wearing a tie. (Can you imagine! Six year olds wearing ties! There are probably laws against it now!) I have a fantastic photo taken by him in the school yard when were about ten; me, Darren Greenfield and somebody else, and the graininess of the shot makes us look like street kids from some seventies TV cop show. If Andrew had been in it I'd have used that one. I think perhaps he took it. Happy birthday, Andrew. Older and wiser than me!

Another decade. This month. I received my first card two days ago. I threw it onto the piano in disgust. "I'm not there yet!" Last week I saw a couple of former teachers, one of whom asked, "Which year were you born?" "I'm still the right side of that decade marker," I joked. Just. Skin of my teeth. Finger nails.

I'm not vain, you understand.

But sadly I'm not young anymore either.

5 essential requirments for long term success in ministry

A friend of mine is studying with Hillsongs in Australia. He sent me an email with this question: "What you believe to be 5 essential requirments for long term success in ministry?" And he asked me to give him my answers.

Clearly, he can't just pinch it off Google.

So I had a bit of a think, and came up with the following. Comments please, and better ideas welcome. I'm in this for the long haul, and if you guys can help me (and Chris in Oz) I'd be grateful too!

1) Worship Jesus with all your heart, mind, soul and strength; do it daily and privately as well as weekly and publicly. Make it the core of who you are and be no-one and nothing without it.

2) Live a life of integrity that means people can tell number 1 is happening. It's hard and a real challenge, but without this, number 1 isn't happening. Jesus' litmus test for if people are loving God is: are they loving their neighbour?

3) Do what it takes to keep the passion real. Doing the stuff but losing the passion is every minister's experience and nightmare. It happens. Face it and beat it. Being with Jesus is more than doing his work.

4) Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience. Obedience.

5) Enjoy! Laugh a lot! Serving God is a blast! Richard Wurmbrand danced for joy in his cell in communist Rumania not cos he was crazy, and not to annoy his guards, but cos he loved Jesus, and even in the midst of persecution was genuinely filled with joy. So - don't look so miserable. God is good. Enjoy! Laugh! Glory!

What do you think?

The Best Worship Service Ever

OK, that's probably overstating things. I mean, Solomon's Temple opening jamboree has to be pretty high. It is concievable that the Last Supper might make it on the list too, as well as Pentecost or something from Revelation 4 and 5. I guess somewhere in heaven a group of Palestinian shepherds will have their own angel choir story too.

But - having said all that - I have just experienced at least two of the best worship services I have ever been a part of. We've just finished our latest 24 hour worship event here. And the whole thing was amazing, even given the terrible cold I have been suffering. Actually, that added to it in a strange way: it made the dynamic of "sacrifice" a bit more real, it cost a bit more, and that probably deepened everything.

Last night at 10pm we had a jazz service. Dan on bass, Ed on piano, George on drums, Stephen on alto, and me singing. As a jazz service, I think the best we've done. Good, flowing worship, really relaxed, and with a great spiritual energy which we haven't always achieved. In part, this was cos I made sure that people stood and sang (sometimes they just sit and listen), but in part it was cos the Lord and I have been walking a strange path in my personal worship times recently. "Singing in the Spirit" is a good charismatic practice; but scat singing in the Spirit is a bit more unusual, and that's been a part of my life with God for a bit, and last night I let rip a bit. Glorious. A tremendous freeing of the soul. One member of church (Jill) said afterwards that she had never seen me so animated! And actually I felt it too.

This morning we had our confirmation service as the last part of the 24 hour event. It was an amazing service - full of praise and worship and the sense of the presence of the Spirit. Now some of you may feel that this is surely only to be expected. Well, I don't think I have ever experienced a service like this in Wales, not even in Aberystwyth. The relaxed presence of God was palpable. The music was stunning (thanks to Kirsty for some amazing string arrangements in both hymns and songs) and all the musicians working with me (George, Ed, Paddy, Dan, Kirsty and her strings) were on top form. The whole church was filled with the Spirit. It was pure joy.

Maybe it comes from being so in love with my church here; but I have had many wonderful worship experiences in other places and still when I got home I sat here and prayed - "Thank you Lord - that was the best worship service ever!"

And regular readers (the three of you) may remember a thing I wrote in August about courage. As I looked out at a congregation made up of our own folk and many visitors, I was aware of some not liking what we were doing. But I was not dis-couraged; the Lord renewed my courage to be faithful to the call he has placed upon me, and as I felt that spiritual en-couraging my spirit soared.

It was a great day. It was a great morning. It was certainly one of the best worship services I have ever known. And now - Lord, bless this church. Grow this church. May we see this again – and indeed I dare ask that may what we saw today pale by comparison with what you are going on to do here.

You can find photos of the day and a more formal write up on our church web site here.

24

It's back! Our second twenty four hour worship time happens at the end of next week - October 14 and 15. We are having more trad hymns, more contemporary praise, our artist Cas Smith is coming, our jazz quintet will be leading us, there will be Taize and Psalms and Poems and lots of Scripture. All of St Mark's Gospel will be read out through the day, and at midnight we will have "Revelations in Music" - all of Revelations (bar chs 2-3) with music from time to time interspersing the really exciting bits! There will be new songs, and a creative hour to write something for the final hour - our confirmation sservice with Bishop David Yeoman. Prayer time and African songs and classical music and Kidz praise. Click here for more info and for our poster.

And if you are nearby, come and join in!

Our job is to worship God; his job is to grow the church.

Sometimes I just love my church

It's true!

When I was at the end of my second curacy, I am afraid I hated Sundays. The pressure that was placed on me by different people requiring different (and indeed mutually exclusive) things was so intense. I stopped sleeping on Saturdays as the pressure grew overnight in anticipation.

But now - I love Sundays. I love my church. I love the traditional folk at 8am, the families at 11am, the space and time to be more relaxed at our 6pm service.

Yesterday was Harvest, and we thought about our generous God. This was helped enormously by an experience I had on Saturday, and I think you might enjoy the story.

So here I am, in my study, preparing a sermon on generosity. In the morning, I've had a text from two of our musicians, Andy and Esther, saying they are free to play (they normally do on the first Sunday of the month) and I've left an answerphone message saying - great! Plus, would Esther like to help lead some of the service? Then I get a phone call from Andy. They sing in a choir loosely attached to a Cardiff church, and the woman who runs the choir has asked them (fairly strongly, I suspect) to go to their church as it is Harvest Festival there. Andy sounds fed up, and says he wants to be with us but they feel like they have to help Gauri. I say, of course you must go, don't worry, see you in the evening.

Then as I put down the phone, I grind my teeth and start to fume at the injustice of it! It's our Harvest too! These are key people for us! Not only are they 1/3 of our musicians, they are a fabulous young couple, and if there are visitors at the service, I want them to see young people at the front! Perhaps I should ring Gauri and let her know that this isn't on. Perhaps I should ring Andy and Esther and convey to them the strength of my feelings. And I am slightly aware of the irony of preparing a sermon on generosity whilst feeling quite selfish about these lovely people, but only slightly.

Instead, I call Kirsty to check she and Dan are playing. And Matthew, Dan's son, who is improving all the time as a guitarist. They are. I tell her about the problem with Esther and Andy. She sympathises. We grind teeth together. We agree to leave it, cos they are probably feeling bad.

I sit at my desk. I stare at the phone. I make a decision, and pick it up, dialling Andy and Esther's number. Gloriously, it is engaged!

And just gently, I feel the Lord's smile, and I hear him say: "You know, sometimes generosity has to hurt to be generosity." If it's easy, if I don't miss it, it probably isn't being generous to give it. The cross is a place of pain and giving - the ultimate generous act from the completely giving God. And suddenly, I get the profundity and the humour of the whole thing. I get the point. I get that I have been given an opportunity to be generous as I prepare this sermon, and I very nearly totally blew it. But for the grace (ie generosity!) of God.

Anyway. We had a great day. The Lord blessed us. There are one or two people just moving into faith for the first time, and seeing them alive with Jesus was a total joy. We are giving to Soteria Trust's Soteria College in Ibadan Nigeria as our Harvest offering, and Naomi had prepared a phenomenal power point presentation about it. I think our folk will really give well to it. And (a bit shamefaced, true, but there you go) I really enjoyed preaching about the generous God who calls us to be generous too.

How was Andy and Esther's morning? You'll have to ask them...

A Simple Quiz

We had a simple quiz in church this morning. Check it out by clicking here! And if you want to know how it fitted my sermon, all I can say is "seamlessly"!

Pope Benedict and the Infidel Apology

When I heard that the Pope had apologised for what he said last week about Islam, quoting (and clearly quoting, not at all suggesting it as his own opinion) Manuel II Paleologus who said: "Show me just what Muhammad brought that was new and there you will find things only evil and inhuman, such as his command to spread by the sword the faith he preached" - I was horrified.

Why did he apologise?

Why should he apologise?

Firstly, and this may come as a shock to the Muslim world, but the Pope is a Catholic. No, really. And as such he neither accepts Mohammed as The Prophet, nor does he accept Islam as the best and peacable way to God. If this upsets Moslems, they need to get real.

Secondly, irrespective of creed or outlook, in the West we have something called "Free Speech". It allows all sorts of opinions to be expressed fairly and openly, even opinions we don't much like. It is as awkward for George and Tony as it is for the Pakistan Parliament, I am afraid, and we rejoice in it and in its awkwardness. If Islam wishes to airbrush out of history an opinion expressed against it - tough.

Thirdly, the BBC website, in reporting this story, contains these lines:

Hours before the Pope spoke, two churches in the West Bank were attacked with firebombs in what was believed to be a reaction to the Bavaria speech.
And in the Somali capital Mogadishu, an Italian nun was shot dead by gunmen. The shooting may have been connected to strong criticism of the speech by a radical Somali cleric.

So this peacable and non-violent religion demonstrates just how peacable and non-violent it is by reacting to a speech at a university gathering of academics by bombing two churches and shooting a nun. If it looks like a cow, sounds like a cow, smells like a cow, walks like a cow, and signs its cheques "Cow", sometimes it really is a cow.

And if they want us to believe they don't like violence, at some point either they stop the violence, or we stop buying the line.

But then I read what the Pope said today in his apology.

"I am deeply sorry for the reactions in some countries to a few passages of my address at the University of Regensburg, which were considered offensive to the sensibility of Muslims. These in fact were a quotation from a medieval text, which do not in any way express my personal thought.
I hope this serves to appease hearts and to clarify the true meaning of my address, which in its totality was and is an invitation to frank and sincere dialogue, with mutual respect."

Which is academic speak for: Please listen to what I say and don't just go bombing churches and shooting nuns. And if you'd like to stop doing that and actually talk and develop a respect for us, that would be nice too.

I like this Pope. I find myself in complete agreement on this issue.

WebParish

A new blog site for the faithful readership: my church now has a blog page. Any church member can post a blog, and anybody at all can comment. Take a look and see what's going on - not a lot yet, honestly, but I am hoping in time that this will take off!

Tired

Tired, tired, tired. Tired and not sleeping. How does that work? Sleeping and not getting any rest.

A more difficult Sunday - simply because I am tired. God is good though: my basic test of how good a service has been (ie how much people have been touched by God) is how long they take to leave the building. If they run out, it was as bad as I feared! If they linger, the Lord was there. Turns out he was here today, I just missed him in my tiredness.

On Pluto

Thanks to Karen for this observation on the demotion of the ninth planet of our solar system to the status "dwarf planet":

And the winner is...
Gustav Holst. His suite The Planets is no longer out of date, astronomically speaking. Instead it turns out to be ahead of its time.

Though I might add I feel a pang of regret that there are now no major planets named after Disney cartoon characters.

And have all the plutocrats suddenly become wealthy dwarves?

Passion For Your Name

I have just had two well spent days at the Passion For Your Name conference. 1200 people with hearts to worship Jesus and to learn more of how to do and live the same.

Highlights were: an hour of worship led by Mark Beswick, in a black Pentecostal style; getting to sing some of Tim Hughes' new songs; a challenge by J John to evangelise; time with friends; being prayed for; and much more besides.

In particular, as I was prayed for one evening, I felt the Lord speak to me about courage. Sometimes, I know something I want us to do as a church, but as I try to lead some new creative thing, I see a couple of scowling faces and I shrivel inside and end up doing a cautious, passionless version of the thing I intended. My courage vanishes and I am (literally) dis-couraged. I have never seen "discourage" as a "courage" word before. But surely it is: for being discouraged normally means I lose my ability to be creative as fear wraps itself around me, and being "en-couraged" again re-equips me to serve well as I have my courage renewed.

Does that make sense? I was left thinking - O Lord, give me courage! Let me not be dis-couraged and prevented from acting in faith; let me be en-couraged and enabled to be creative and fearless and a worshipper who would walk your paths after you, whatever else may be going on around. Let the scowls not win! Let the courage you give me bless the whole church here. And may we be a church that can, a place of en-couragement for all who come here, a place that builds up every member.

Let's see how that gets answered.

The Rooney and Ronnie Show

Ahh!!!

Day two of the new Premiership season (that's soccer for my faithful US readers!), and United thrash Fulham 5 -1. Enough to bring a smile to the weariest face. And I publicly eat my words after the World Cup, when I was decidedly amongst those who wanted Ronaldo out of Old Trafford. Today was the Rooney and Ronnie Show, and (though I confess to finding it hard to actually like Ronaldo) the Portuguese lad's play alongside Rooney was great to see.

Football is often said to be a modern equivalent of tribal warfare; if so, the World Cup always affects who belongs to which tribe. But now that Nationalism has been put away, and again we are free to enjoy the clearer allegiances of commercial materialism - sorry - Club, Rooney and Ronnie's summer spat is history. It's a heart-warming tale of forgiveness, a lot of money, and a manager that both players are scared of.

Plus, for a while all United fans are free to dream again of glory days: enough of this sunshine nonsense, and roll on the winter, season of rain, mud, red cards and goals galore!

Grief

Love's loss, time's wound, a powerful, powerless, aimless, aching wellspring. Grief is an outpouring of emotion, a scattering of words: enough emptiness to fill a world.

Four and a half years ago Charlie breathed and breathed no more, slept and slept no more, was and was no more.

You'd think I'd get over it; he was just a dog.

And I can't. I try, and I can't. Surely I can have no tears left; yet I cry on.

Grief claws into my soul: if I lie still, he goes deeper; if I struggle, deeper still. I hardly dare think of Charlie now because of this pain; so grief robs me twice of my friend, my companion, my shadow.

Love is... my dog.

Grief's a bitch.

Book thoughts

Reading a friend's blog I came across the follwing questions, which made me think a bit. I wonder what your answers would be - here's mine.

1. Name one book that changed your life.
Well, clearly I am going to go through the same issues as my friend in working out whether or not it's OK to choose something other than the Bible here! But given the Bible, two books come to mind for different reasons. As a young Christian, David Watson's autobiography "You are my God" was life changing. Reading it made me a charismatic before I knew what one was. It really transformed my understanding of God and of what it meant to be a Christian, and it propelled me into my adult faith. And the second book... forgive me, it's my own - Salvation's Song. Not because I think it's a great read, but because writing it changed me dramatically. The year it took re-shaped my ministry and life, and gave me for the first time a theology of the cross which really works for me.

2. Name one book you have read more than once.
So many to choose from! Some of the Bond novels, so many books of the Bible, or my favourite book of George Herbert poems: but perhaps the evocative and wonderful "The Dark is Rising" by Susan Cooper will do. I loved it as a thirteen year old, and I still love it. Dark, moody, wintry, exciting and mystical. A great children's novel, with plenty to satisfy adults too.

3. Name one book you'd want on a desert island.
And now I think I will plump for that collection of George Herbert poems. I'm presuming I have the Bible and Shakespeare anyway, as they are to be found on every desert island. And tempting as taking one novel would be, I think eventually it would grow tiresome. Herbert's poems always have new light, and require being read out aloud, which would be a good discipline in such an environment.

4. Name one book that made you laugh.
Anything by Jasper Fforde. I've just finished "The Fourth Bear", and he never fails to make me laugh. I shall try for ages to find a reason to use his "right to arm bears" line in a sermon.

5. Name one book that made you cry.
Where to start! Maragret Atwood and Amy Tan manage it with every novel. But I think I will choose "Firesong" by William Nicholson, the third in his "Wind on Fire" trilogy, because Chris Holmwood got him to sign a copy of the book for me with a reference to Charlie, my old Springer, who had recently died. Four years on, I can't pick that book up without a tear coming to my eye!

6. Name one book you wish you had written.
Anything by JK Rowling; the bank balance would be a lot healthier! Or anything by Tom Wright - just for the insights he has into Scripture. Or "The Unquenchable Worshipper" by Matt Redman, a tiny, thin book which has a weight of understanding and experience of worship and a commitment to Jesus to which I rarely come close.

7. Name one book you wish had never been written.
Ooh, tricky. Let's find my inner book-burner.
Two close run things and a winner.
First - and forgive me , this is really controversial: what if there had never been the Koran? Would the world be a better or a worse place? I can argue that both ways, so having thought the thought, I shall put it aside and move on.
Second, and also just failing to make it: Silence of the Lambs. Yes, it was a book first. And my sister made me read it - and on the printed page the words and ideas so messed with my imagination that I gave it up and threw it away!
Third, and the winner: the Da Vinci Code. Not because of any theological point, but because if it had never been written the whole world would not have had to sit through the second most tedious movie ever. (The most tedious movie ever being Pirates of the Caribbean, based on a ride rather than a novel.)

8. Name one book you are currently reading.
"Simply Christian" by Tom Wright. It's his basic Christianity book, and has a lot I like and some aspects I dislike. If you are looking for a good Tom Wright book to start with, his "the Challenge of Jesus" was for me far more satisfying. And any of his commentaries in the SPCK "Matthew for Everyone" series will do you good too. I've just finished "non-stop" by Brian Aldiss; good grown-up sci-fi, as well written and thought out as Aldiss always is.

9. Name one book you have been meaning to read.
I could put something pretentious down here, but by now it has become clear I read mainly novels, some of which are children's novels, and a few light theology books for good measure. I have been meaning to read Tom Wright's "Jesus and the Victory of God" for quite a while, but the size of the book makes it unlikely. And I have been sent a book on bereavement which I do mean to read - when I can pluck up the courage!

The post finished there, but I'm going to add a tenth point.

10. Name one book which you thought you loved - but which you hated when you re-read it.
"Cather in the Rye" is an easy answer for me. As an angst-ridden, zit-faced adolescent, I loved it. Really loved it. Thought it summed up the world and all its problems perfectly. Coming across it in an airport, I bought a new copy two or three years back, started to read it, and found myself wanting to throttle poor Holden Caulfield and to tell him, lovingly, to GROW UP! I disliked it (and him) so much I gave up half way through. Whereas, having hated HG Wells' "War of the Worlds" as a teenager, I picked that up at an airport last year and revelled in its sweet and melancholy prose. A beautiful small book that deserves far better even than Tom Cruise and Steven Spielberg!

Superman Returned to

OK, I went to see it again. I don't often do this, but I was so disappointed not to be thrilled first time around that I decided to give it a second go.

Well, I knew I wouldn't like Lois, and I still didn't. But I didn't dislike her as much - I was simply left cold by her, which is a sadness both in Superman terms and in simple human terms: Teri Hatcher and whatshername off Smallville never left me like this. Mind you, Teri reminded me of an old girlfriend, which was a mixed up thing in and of itself, and which always served to heighten my Lois-ward reactions (Typical! Wonderful! Oh no! Oh yes!). What I hadn't remembered was just how much Lois there is in the film.

What I wasn't prepared for was how bored I was by the leisurely pace of the whole thing. For an action film, it was tedious. The opening plane wreck was the best thing in it. Go see it just for that - and then go home; you'll save yourself a lengthy 2 hours and more that serve very little purpose.

Ricky Carvel has a great scoring system for films; and some great views on films he likes and dislikes. He's going to dislike this: on second viewing Superman Returns took a nose-dive down to a 4/10.

Every Breath CD Now at iTunes

It's true. Go to iTunes and type in "marcus green big band" and there we are. Ninety nine cents a track in the States, seventy nine pence each here in the UK. Download away!

Gifts and gratitude

On Wednesday I had the enormous pleasure to spend half an hour with my old music teacher, Jack Longstaff. I was visiting the grammar school in Blackburn to hand over a copy of my book for their library, and in chatting to Phil Lloyd there decided to call on Mr Longstaff.

TJL (as he signed himself on all my schoolwork) retired two years after I left school. And that retirement was 20 years ago. So he's in his mid eighties now, but still living in the house where I went as a kid for my piano lessons - a house which remains very much as I remember from that time.

Mr Longstaff was the single most important teacher I ever had. He taught me everything I know musically. He was my piano teacher, and as he taught me to play he taught me to listen and to understand music as I listened. He taught me harmony, and this gave me the practical skills to arrange and to compose. He took all the potential of the boy and enabled me to grow into the musical man I became.

I wanted to see him, because I wanted to say thank you for that gift.

And as I was about to leave he picked up a CD of excerpts from our old school choir and gave it to me. Our school choir under TJL was 250 strong. We did major works. The very first thing I ever sang in any choir was the Verdi Requiem. It remains my all time favourite piece of classical music.

This afternoon I listened to that CD. The sound quality is excellent, and the memories that filled the room were wonderfully tangible. I remember singing in Blackburn Cathedral, and the shock of hearing the orchestra for the first time when we had rehearsed to the piano for so many months. The Verdi Requiem excerpt (from 1979) is the last movement, the Libera Me: right at the end, all of us trebles headed up to a glorious final high C which is really the soloist's domain, and which I have only ever heard one other choir attempt. Absolutely glorious.

Gifts of music, and now gifts of memories. And Mr Longstaff, I am grateful for them all, more than words can say.