I love my choir. It’s often the best part of my week.
But good God, my fellow choristers are weird! And I’m allowed to invoke His name, because I’m singing in one of His churches. That’s pretty much like personal permission, right?
Geoffrey, our choirmaster, wears big-heeled boots, sings cabaret and plays the organ like a madman. The height of humour was that one time he played the bass and tenor parts a half tone down from the alto and soprano parts on the piano.
Ahaha. Hilarious, right?
Though only slightly less so than that other time we re-conjugated all the latin verbs in William Byrd’s Ave Verum Corpus.
Then there’s the inimitable John, who was the first ever Australian ambassador to Iran, where he sang opera with their principal diva. He wears cravats and also, I suspect, dies his moustache.
My fellow alto Catherine has a spine-tingling voice, a huge romance novel library and bright pink stockings with cats on them. She holds monthly Shakespeare readings and makes things like jelly eyeballs to eat, depending on the themes in that month’s play.
Catherine and I love to sing together, though too often other people get inserted into our midst.
Which is where the microcosm comes in.
Tonight I had to sing first alt with Soprano-Anna. She is just about the most stylish middle-aged person I know. Or maybe just the most stylish person I know full stop. She also just goes for it when she sings which I totally admire, but is a bit frustrating when she doesn’t really know the song.
Then I long for just a bit of tentative subtlety on her part, or just to be singing alone. Then I think: this is how life is. You work with other people, and because everyone’s different, other people will inevitably annoy you from time to time.