Pat at the launderette didn't recogsantanize me...

The Fellowship of the String keyboard department learnt an important lesson about preparing the song you're going to sing at our gig at The Half Moon pub on Friday. Good job the music stand was on stage - it was more the guitar chords played standing up that were my undoing, rather than anything at the ivories (the plastics?) - anyhow, the old musical confidence took a bit of a knock. Haven't felt that nervous during a concert for many a half moon...

Thursday's offering at Heythrop College with Joey Dreycott had gone fine, and La Indomitabila de Nordwall and I did a sort of double act of friends of the choir with poetry and song; The people that walked in darkness (from The Messiah) went down quite well and Indomitable did a couple of poems including Our Lady of the Pirates. She's quite a performer and a very good storyteller.

Saturday (post Half Moon) was encouragingly successful. Holy Trinity Clappers was hosted by the Sun pub and we presented about 50 mins of carol singing and poetry and Alpha invite. David Isherwood was amusing about a particular verse of Away in a Manger...

'Christian children all must be
mild obedient good as He'

"So no pressure kids then!"

I've never particularly noticed any under 12's buckling under the parental pressures of the theology of the Christmas carol, but still it is a bit Victorian... I remember James Odgers from Besom making similar comments about All things Bright and Beautiful - "the poor man in his castle, the rich man at his gate... He ordered their estate..." 'pish tish!!'

I know what he means - it does stick a bit in the throat, especially in this day and age, then again 'riches come from the Lord'. I suppose unjust political and economic systems come from other places (the culture of fear I have been reading about this morning), but the Lord is in charge. I suppose we have to do our bit for the rule of Heaven and that includes not accepting injustice especially if it's inherent in the law of the Landed.

Anyhow, back at the Sun, mulled wine was drunk and carols sung to an assembled crowd including Chris Macarthy and Whiting plus one that seemed appreciative - reassuring after Friday's debacle. HTCC have been asked to provide the same again please to The Falcon at Clapham North on Wednesday (7pm on.)

I spotted a Walrus across the Esca breakfast table this morning - Aviary had bilocated briefly and (yes she knows about this) a Walrus had merged with her DNA briefly as she portalled somewhere over the south Atlantic - such are the mysteries of the Lord: fortunately the confusion in the spacetime continuum was quickly healed by some guffawing prayers and vanity slaying merriment. (See picture - thanks for allowing me to put it up!)

Earlier in the Saturday, the Piano Inspector was on duty for his erstwhile one-time childhood sweethood Isobel (plus her two little munchkins and their grandmother). Long-time the manxome foe we sought (in Merton) until we arrived to the sounding of Tomtoms at Hanna Pianos. The charming Charlie showed us quickly away to the other showroom where the 'bargain' pianos under £3000 where stashed, a brace deep.

Fortunately for hubby Marcus' summer holiday plans, Isobel was persuaded to come in roughly in budget and the munchkin duo of Sophie and Lucy Grace are now booked for their Music Scholarship auditions in 2019 and 2021, retroversely.

Sunday was a long day - some poor chap (or even chappess I suppose) had ended up under a train so there was a bit of reroutage via Barnes Bridge which meant a lovely Priest Powered lift through wonderful Richmond Park, sparkling in the frostmorn. (Please God there is more fruit from their life than that slender yet wonderful redemption.) The trees in the park reminded me of the deer - something that had never occurred to me - think antlers! The deer were all busily foraging in the undergrowth. What a treat to see it all in the 930am-on-a–Sunday-morning quiet! Richmond always reminds me of Africa - the plains thing: not of course the flight-path-to–Heathrow–overhead planes thing.

After Mass, another Priest Powered lift to Number 121, and then after lunch chez JMB et al, to St Mary Magdalene's Wandsworth Common for our 3 hour marathon of a rehearsal and then 1 hour service. Candles; fairy lights; organ music; readings from the Nativity story by Anglicans in Robes; Beards and Bairds and Bairdian bairns with Medici Magsters singing going onto poetry plus open fires and mulled pies and minced wine: Yulemas doesn't get much better.

Father Christmas put in his usual trip to the Willow Nursery school of Wandsworth Road on Thursday morning. Ho Ho Ho! I chatted to a few folk 'in character' (Pat at the launderette didn't recogsantanize me -  a master of disguise Watson; a master!)  and generally nearly got run over by a decidedly Wintervalish bus driver. Ha ha ha.

This is another John Craven of a blog post I'm afraid - have been to busy to think much, despite what my facebook status says.

Grazia.

Rev Aviary of the Latter Day Spoon Balancers

Did anyone else in Cyberworld hear the thunderstorm yesterday morning in South Nodnol? I feared for the roof crashing in at St Mary's. There was a description of a couple in a Radio 4 play I heard once: they liked weather, that was how they'd got together. Didn't matter if it was a typhoon or a snowstorm, rain or wind, sunny day or solar storm, they liked weather. There was something also about how the worst days for them were literally grey days, when the heavens were quiet and dull.

I kind of like that understanding of the heavens as a sort of a Divine entertainment, free for all with the time to appreciate it and the inclination to enjoy such splendours. Nelson used to take readings of the weather twice a day for the whole of his life. Apparently that was the reason he won the battle of Trafalgar, having learnt the skills to predict the approaching storm and use it for strategic advantage. Something in there about discipline.

'Hold fast to discipline, never let her go, keep your eyes on her, she is your life.'
Proverbs 4, Jerusalem Bible

One translation refers to discipline as 'your salvation'.


Aviary has been pretty disciplined of late with her spoon balancing practise. Why, only today, she managed an unofficial Cappucino Spoon 3rd attempt (see photo), which has now been submitted to the Olympic Council for consideration for her application to the GB team.

After thunderstorms, Unc M and Aunty B plus one headed to Margate on the M2 for a lovely lunch in the Harbour Bar Cafe. The pleasures of the winter seaside are along the above weather appreciation type: I like Margate. Whether there's glories in the skies or in the seas, on the beach with Jack Russell Harmer, or round the dining table with Ma and Da or more. A town for all seasons. It does get pretty cold though. They say there's only Norfolk between you and the North Pole. That could well be true.

Home swiftly after post-prandial to teach at Clapham North and St John's Hill and then to Basstone to endure sitting through about 15 plus takes of dear Peter's song by Marcelo on first his guitar then mine, finally in tune, ma non troppo fortissimo. It's a good little song but I don't want to hear it again for the next 6 months. 

What does that say about discipline or patience? Exercise gives pleasant side-effects of lovely positive chemicals and all that, plus all the other stuff - but Marcelo's wrestling with the click track and buzzing guitar strings was giving mostly unpleasant side-effects to his assembled audience to be brutally honest. That's the sharp end of the business I suppose, the hours of practice, and the drudgery it can be.

Jez had a word for me for this 5th decade about 'the joy of restraint' which I revelled in on receipt. About how much amateur decorators don't enjoy the preparation that the professional knows is essential to a carefully executed result. Guess you have to learn to enjoy the preparation or you'll never really enjoy decorating (or be very good at it!)

But the joy when you see the growth in skill, the corner turned, the passage mastered. Apparently, if careers were chosen according to the satisfaction received for the job, most folk would choose to be teachers.

Dat Deus Incrementum

Growth is the gift of God
(Me old school motto)

Aviary has been exercising her ministry of spoon growing for over 2 hours already and results just in show that the cutlery drawers of Peter Jones are already showing signs of upward mobility. If you touch the screen (and dial our toll free number to make your donation) she guarantees that a spoon near you will feel the blessing of the anna-ointing she is moving in.

We have Sky down in Margs and my secret late-night vice is flicking through the options that come up when you tune in to the satellite channels and press the Religion option.

Would be prepared to wager at least a decade of the rosary said for the intention of your choice, that should you do similarly on almost any day, after 1030pm, you will find a rather high percentage of the chat is about money. The P.G. tips you could call it - and I don't mean advice for or about paying guests.

Almost every time there has been an indulgence of this horrid tendency (we don't seem to receive EWTN), it seems that every other channnel is talking about the Prosperity Gospel. Is there a Bible translation by that name I wonder?

For out of the overflow of his heart his mouth speaks. (NIV Luke 6:45) 

'Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.' (NIV Luke 12:32)

The Gospel of Immediate Profits: a non-gospel of unimpeded fiscal growth for the West in the 21st century (!!)

or

the Gospel of Eternal Dividends? A gospel of disciplines of heart and mouth and wallet. Disciplines of mind and eyes as well. We have to learn to love the practice - we are built to work that way; that's what Christianity says anyhow. The Christian is meant to run on God... 'Like a car running on petrol' (Jack)
What are you filling the tank with these days? thefellowshipofthestring.blogspot.com/?


Guess we have to enjoy the discipline of giving, the joy of giving, and the ultimate joy and pain of sacrificial giving.

Whatever the weather.

Grazia.

Music and merrymaking

Mariaaaaaa and I headed to the Winter Wonderland at Hyde Park on Friday. I'm sure lots of people have been along but it was my first time and wish I'd been told about how wonderlandful it was and been along before. The trees and the lights, the night air and the ferris wheel, the Belgian fries and Lemon Crepes... sehr gemuchtlich (or however you spell the word 'cosy' auf Deutsch.)

We walked from Knightsbridge through the park and Wonderland and up Piccadilly, trying to use the powder rooms of the Ritz but reconvening at Fortnum's and then to meet Carson and Cammie at Chantage's beautiful concert at St James' Piccadilly, invited by Lucy Britton.The pianissimo's were just ravishing! Well done Lulu and all of you. Really some of the most beautiful choral singing I've ever heard. What a pivilege for us audience.

Carson, Mariaaaaaa and I tried to find repast and repose in Waterstones 5th Floor but sadly just caught the view and not last orders or the time to savour either. One to keep for the future though. The little pub round the corner saw us neck a tomatofruit juice and head home on the buses.

Saturday: well, despite thick cold in head and usual singers excuses, was quite pleased with how it went. Two videos are on youtube, one of which is linked to the blog. Baird was pleased. Jane and Jane and Julia and Father M plus Delores and Rosemary and Sarah came to support, and also Cammie who I'd invited the previous eve. Bless you all for coming along!


The B minor Mass in the choruses sounded fantastic, although it was hard to hear the other Basses apart  from David Montagu.Very nice being nested near 2nd Sops and Tenors with Altos within easy hearing. Sensed the inner parts of the music much more than ever previously.


Julmax and I headed for refreshments (thanks J) past the encampment outside St Paul's. Gosh! A bit like Greenbelt really except with more buildings. It was cold. Really cold. They had their tents up on fork lift truck crates, you know, the sort of warehouse crates that you see stuff on. There didn't seem to be an endorsement from a crate company...

"Eazeecrate... official suppliers of Occupy London: serving the alternative lifestyle since 2011"

Is that irreverent? Maybe so; I sense those souls in the cold with the didgereedoo's and candles and dred -locks are beautiful in a way. Certainly more beautiful than selfish greed... however it manifests itself. After typing that, I had a hunt for a quote, vaguely remembered from George MacDonald - something about how those who are poor may also be slaves to the desire for money. Can't find it for the mo.

'Whoever loves money, never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income.' Ecclesiastes 5:10

Sunday morning was beautifully restful as Barnarnaby had cancelled and a lot of gentle pottering and clearing up got done. Mum arrived about an hour before Uncle M and Aunty B, flown in from the States via two days in Rekjavyk. -15 degrees apparently. They're sitting here flicking TV channels as I type. Very good to have them here and it seems like only yesterday since they were here before - 4 years ago.

Stuart and Mary Reed invited me to play for their Christmas party down in Balham on Sunday, which was great fun and the piano playing seemed to go down well. Have you ever read the lyrics of Frosty the Snowman? Now resist the urge.

Afterwards, nice to see Simon Nelson in the band of Holy Trinity Clapham Common. Also, what another  lovely chap was the Prison Chaplain from H.M.P.Wandsworth.

No Aviary this morning, but spirulina and cookies at Bullet Bang and Lesley from Puppet Planet plus Aviary this afters. Rare treats all round.

This has been a bit of a News cast round up, and my apologies for the lists of stuff as opposed to any reflection or insight. It was a wonderful weekend though and my thanks to all the 'idiosyncraticness' of everyone involved.  The Computer says 'no' to how I have spelt that word. Who should I blame?

TV is talking about 'moral critique of Capitalism' and the Occupy movement. The Chinese blessing: 'may you live in interesting times' seems a bit strong in the light of the past 12 months.

Grosser Herr und starker Konig, sung by Justin Harmer, Bass

The price of love...

Starberns here in Green Park/New James Bonders is buzzing with security passes and business persons. Bernstar Zovaro has paused amid the working day to join the Harpster (as some do call me) for a hot water and 'azelnuts - I've been here listening to various recordings of Bach on youtube and abusing the hotspotality of the generous Seattle hosts.

Funeral this morn was very grim. He was a 53 year old security guard and the occasion was more distraught than I've ever seen at any service - excepting infant Baptisms. A child pours it's very heart and soul into it's cries and for them the universe has sundered when they're grabbed by a stranger in front of other strangers and strange things are done them involving water and oil. How did you like it? "Today's" relatives struggled but managed to keep a slipping grip.

I'm not in any way trying to be irreverent about what was obviously (the funeral) horrific, just commenting about the church being the place people go to or not at these transitional moments; when stuff happens, people either run away from the Lord or run towards Him. An ex-monk I met once (at a Baptism) was unconvinced by Jack's "GOD'S MEGAPHONE!" understanding of the problem of pain. It's a clever expression and neatly Lewinian; I suppose we do moostly muddle about and then stuff hits us and whatever we can see first or find first or blame first gets the fallout or captures us in our emptiness and the falling into it that happens to us all. Do children blame their mum or dad if the nasty dog/pavement/door/splinter/  or tummyache snaps at them etc? I don't know myself, only being a godfather, but mostly I see the munchkins running to pappy and mammy when puppy gets snappy.

"If we shout into the void loud enough, God answers us back"  (Kuba?)

Jack Russell Harmer nearly booked himself a trip to the pound when he snapped at the small child who was being very annoying at the time back in the summer. Praise the Leader no damage was done or drawn as it would have broken my elderly dad's heart had poor Jack met an... I shall not write the words. Father Michael commented in the car a la Norbers ce matin 'I don't do anyone any harm, I only harm myself'. How little did Jack think (?) those jaws were dicing with death when he merely obdogged his doggy nature (and protected his eyes from prodding fingers.) Still, ask me again when I'm a parent. Anyhow, kiddywink concerned ran straight to his ma and pa. Anecdotal evidence, but then again most is.

But apparently we over 12's are pretty much all recovering from puberesence for the next 50 years, until we're too old to make a noise other than the words 'pension' and 'regrets, I've had a few'. Maybe my as-I'm-typing abuse of the aforementioned hotspotality of the free 'leccy chez Starberns is going to be a contributing factor to the fact of the fact that the facts about pensions in this country, factually speaking, are not factastic. It's quite a deal though, the several hours of free workspace at the Coffice Shop, actually on the canteen face, in exchange for a mere £plus or minus.

With the culture of death's malevolence (never heard the expression? - think abortion on demand and eugenicide, theodicide, and moralicide,) we shall probably all be celebrated for our goodness to the taxpayer in choosing to be a shufflin' off the cortal mile before our allotted course is spent.

"He could have spent a lifetime malingering in coffee shops, but no! s/he was the kind of godfather/mother who knew their prayers would increase in efficacy if they were closer to the King than was presently possible in Starbucks."

Cue rejoicing with heart and wallet by the assembled tax payers.

Mere relatives and friends will be paying the price of love:...  tears.

Afterwards - will people think more about the price of funeral baked Scotch buffet delicacies than the answer to the riddle of the one about the chicken and the egg? Surely they can taste the difference between mere theory and practise?

If there is a God, I hear me say, (and He was here well before any poultry or dairy products) the crying I heard today means a life means more than a 45 minute newscast round-up; more than staring at the buffet in the church hall with a bunch of almost strangers. It means that in our grief, as in other moments of crisis, we are obeying some law that is our human version of the doggy nature - nobler though - and that law of love is written into the fabric of the bits of stardust to which we return.

It means we are more precious than many sparrows.

Or Jack Russells.

Englandshire, Britainsville: In a league of her own...

It is the wee small hour of 5 something here in the cloisters of St Anthony's Harpertage and the bell has just rung for prime. Brother Richard is leading the homily this morning (ok, it's Radio 4 thought for the day) and the gossip of the refectory is that the bendy buses are banished from the streets of Nodnol...

"Father, let us not be shackled by the mistakes and errors of the past"

Manflu day 3 hath begun.

Rehearsing last night with Medici and JMB and Luci Briginshaw. What a lovely voice she has - really looking forward to tomorrow. Dear Sheri Bankes of the Peter Kerswell Fanclub (Christmas Card branch) emailed last night very kindly to say she had a prior. Now; Sheri sends Christmas Cards. That's almost all I know about her. This year's is another triumph, the first card to arrive at the Harpertage. I'm not sure whether it's a Christmas Card or a Xmas card - they're certainly in a league of their own... (see photo)

The chatter of the postulants on the transistor is saying there's a food shortage on the Isle of Man. They have their own Parliament and Manxness and I understand that it's a major financial centre. How easy it is for us to think that island identity is weird and not perceive our own oddness. I have a vague theory that the English character (whatever that means - probably identified by red trousers and brown leather loafers, navy blue Blazers, thermosk flasks, panicking about the weather, chip shop culture, talking disproreasonably about schools one went to 30 plus years ago, Carols from King's College Cambridge and sporting events)  is an impossible thing; the jolliness of Merrie England starved of the reason and joy of the substance of the sacraments of the feast and pained into Protestant workaholism by King, empire building vainglory and climate, with our churches full of music 'about' God, but without God in the tabernacle. Our Lady's dear separated dowry. Dear Brother Humphrey is perpetuating and embedulating this weirdness on the crystal, with it's particular BBC slant of  Heifferford Univarsities: "A definitive study has shown that there is no impact from abortion upon the mental health of the women involved." Pie Jesu, have mercy! Mater dei, ora pro nobis!

Funeral this morning at St Ann's and an early one at that (in every sense) - the bane of organists everywhere has been requested - forgive me liebe Schubert and dear Lady, but Ave Maria is rather less than playable I find, especially for those of us with limited practise feetling time. Not something that Stephen Cleobury ever had to worry about.

For the first time in writing memory I turned over two pages at once when singing my little (!) solo in the Mass. NOW, that may seem, gentle reader, about as exciting as turning up to the opening of an envelope (or tin can), but there was a lesson in there about knowing the music one is singing. About meaning the meaning. Long shall I remember Father Alan Fudge's  newsletter comment that the word 'sincere' derived from sine cere, without wax, as in without the wax masks that the classical actors of ancient Reece and Grome would wear. How many classical musicians understand or mean the meaning of what they say? - many will not know what is engraved over the accidentally turned over page. Here in England, we are not culturally allowed to see the mistakes of the past for what they were, so we have little knowledge of how this part of the story ends - even though none of us know what is over the very next page. We imagine maybe that plucky little David Cameron will bring Etonianism to the 'working classes' and Briton's will never, Ever, EVER, SHALL BE SLAVES!!

"What good is it to make a sweet sound, and remain proud."

Few there are in the perilled pews of Anglicharagelicalism who know that the verse of Ye Watchers and ye holy ones which goes (ahem)

"Oh higher than the seraphim
more glorious than the cherubim
raise the glad strain, Hallelujah!
Thou bearer of the eternal word
Most Gracious, magnify the Lord!"

is about the Lady of Our Lord.


Brother Humphrey is still chatting away, and neither he nor I know what is engraved over the next page, much as we might guess, although some do say they know how the next chapter begins.   

"May we not be shackled theologically by the mistakes of our past."

Whether England sends a Christmas Card or an Xmas card to her future generations we're certainly in a league of our own...

And so to Matins.

URGENT CASE OF MANFLU! COBRA IS GO! REPEAT: COBRA IS GO!

The Willow Christmas Nativity has been and gone; the little baby Jesus has safely been born and Shepherds and Kings/Magi made their scheduled flight plans and arrived at Beth'lem. Innkeepers were reassuringly full (the busy season, best time of the year) and stable room was found for the Saviour of the world.

Speaking of which, I'm always mildly tickled when I see Heman's names amidst the Psalms and I canna be the only one...

There were an awful lot of cameras amidst the assembled Willow parents this morning.  I remember mum and Jane used to share one back in the '70's.

'Do not say, "Why were the old days better than these?" For it is not wise to ask such questions.' Ecclesiastes 7:10


We Mediciers had a thought at the Covgar Hostelry last night: an amusing TV programme might be a sort of reverse 'Life on Mars': some sort of story line with a back drop of folk in 21st century teeny London, smoking on tube carriages and buses and in pubs/cinemas/theatres while going to Les Arcs Jaune (Macdonalds) and being asked if they'd reserved a table, then being shown to a white linen laid table for two, silver service, then the soup course is served etc etc, using luncheon vouchers to pay for their meal or maybe signing cheque... a sort of '70's meets 2011's, with the architectural backdrop of Nodnol as we know it today, cars, products, shops, places. I don't know what sort of storyline you'd use though and that would have to be worked out... hey! This idea is copyright to me!

The rehearsing went well for the Christmas Oratorio last night. Thwoo my germy fug the choir seemed pretty accurate and JMB very graciously gave a 'to door' lift service back from ze pub; I'd fallen asleep somewhere around Vauxhall a la Citroen. Sloe Solutions final waft of 2009 product got an airing, laced with ginger and chemicals of a cold ministering to kind. Parp!

'Urgent case of Manflu... convene Cobra! I want the PM aware of every development, it's a dangerous strain and we could go viral... go to Defcon 3, the nation's running out of tissues... critical paracetamol levels'

There's probably an advert in there for Vicks or some other product.

No-one had man flu in the '70's....

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength" Philippians 4:13

Aviary and I are seated at 'our' table and she's saying 'life's so fun' and tapping away on her 'phone (I derive horrible pleasure from that subtle abbreviative indication: forgive me!) - now she's studying or fiddling with her A.M. big hair... the Whiting has passed among us like the wind of the Spirit and blessed us with a breakfast beneficence and we must now unravel the gold of the secret policeman's gospel into the metalwork of wisdom...

Hoist by my own guitar: the library yesterday - the scene, computer user in residence is quietly tapping
away at the Sibelius programme on the first floor in his secret HQ (Buck Pal Rd), and zap! the power goes down for some mysterious guitar-resting-on-the-plug reason... the first time I've fallen prey to the curse of the disappearing data-bytes: is there a home, an after cyber-space life where these translocated works exist in sunny, upland, elysian Microsoft fields, where Steve Jobs plucketh the harp and Bill's Gates are forever open to the blessed and elect...? Oh! yes, one other small occasion of late: the several hundred telephone numbers locked in Blackberry curve purgatory on my dining table.

"Lift up your head, oh ye Bill Gates
and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting doors
and the King of Microsoft comes in..."

I don't know whether I may have mentioned my suspicion that various writings in the final book of the bible, about "giving life to the image of the beast" may have something to do with Artificial Intelligence... presumably, if Apple corp. are involved and still churning out their produits at some future date unknown to all mortal men, it would be called, in hideous parody...

                       'i-am...'

Isn't there something about the false prophet causing men 'to worship the image of the beast...'???

Anyhow, as I tap away on my Apple (garden of Esca) that all seems dim and distant.

Not to worry you of course!

Uncle M and Aunty B are probably in Iceland at ze moment, due to arrive Nodnol Sunday morning: my heart skipped a beat when I overheard the words "did you hear about the volcano?" as I went to the bus stop after teaching yesterday... knowing dear Uncle M's propensity for natural disasters I would have been unsurprised if something with a name from Hell's dictionary had erupted all over his flight plans, vis. Los Angeles earthquakes and Florida hurricanes and oil slicks...

Good meeting with Rev D.I. from HTCC yesterafter: he's requested two poems for next Saturday's singalong at the Sun.

'They had lamb at the first Christmas
Lamb tender and yet unslaughtered
and greeted by parsnip kings with all the trimmings.
Potato-headed innkeepers said they had no room for them,
the dining mother and father, feeding as we all must feed,
on joy and love and peace between the three...'

He liked the Dove on the Cradle which I also sang for Jane Susle and Mum, Dad, Ran, Jack n Bumble yestereve. They also managed a slice of the Turkey Messiah which was a bit undercooked although should be better when with a strange crowd...

Aviary is still writing away and I've got to get off to my secret Library HQ in Victoria Buck Pal Rd, so I'll leave it there...

 Who is good for praying about colds (esbeshially when you've a concert in three days time!!!)?

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength..." even answer the phone...
 

How do I know him? Well; my mum used to do his laundry...

...that was Geoffrey Reed's excuse anyhow - he really needs to change his punchlines/straplines/hairdye/spell check...


we met up at The Castle Pub in Farringdon for Bob's birthday. Funny, that winter thing: you know, cold and the like, jugs of ale and misted up windows. Convincing LOTR Elf impressions were done by Alison and cheeses warmed in the fug of the snug to waft amidst the assembled company. Bob and Helen were off to parts foreign the next morn. A valedictory Hupdy Bufdy was sung.

Geoffrey Reed gatecrashed the party and managed to slip past the bouncers and disable his electronic tag. I've told him before about his under-age drinking and laying off the vodka red bulls, but will he listen: NO! Maybe he should be working in retail...

My young pupil E.T. managed 130 out of 150 in his grade 3 piano exam: distinction! Huzzah! and thoroughly deserved. An adolescent lifetime spent sitting in practise rooms awaits him.

Barnarnarby arrived Saturday morning after I scooted home from seeing Aviary for breakfast (having muddled my Mass times): B and I serenaded the neighbours and the tape machine and slurped coffee and chocs before wending our ways - he to his eyrie in Pimlico and me to Waterloo East and thence to Stonegate (near Rumtumbridge Wells) for the Jackson-Matthews Christmas party, plus carol books and geeetar. The Yamaha grand was sounding well tuned and the Yuletide merriment seemed to be enjoyed by one and all. Unc P and I duetted a bit and I improvised the "We three kings of orient are kosher" that a version of has made it's way by camel-computer-train onto youtube. Really fun afternoon. Chestnuts roasting on the open fires and mistletoe and wine.

Fast drive by fair Cos and Aunt to Buxted, and a home to Battersea by 930pm. Fingers gearing up for Barn's and mine guitar fest next week.

Sunday morning service went well and we were Paula plus Cally, Rosemary and Tina in the St Ann's Choir. Father Michael cooked a delicious Asdapasta and chats of ecclesiology and chats of the importance of openness.

I LOVE staying home on Saturday afternoons and just pottering between computer and piano and guitar. Managed to wrestle with the Laptop and emerged with a few videos on youtube of stuff that I'd recorded last week - things written over the past year mostly. Also heard a lovely song 'The Crow on the Cradle' (a traditional tune) in a version by Mary Black. Very haunting! and magical too. I did a poem/lyrics to the same tune called 'The Dove on the Cradle.'

A wedding at Beth'lem, twixt heaven and earth
the Child of God's promise that men have long searched
And Herod and soldiers: Jerusalem's fear
deceived in their cunning by obedience of seers
and the Dove flown from the cradle


Do google the Mary Black version and you'll get an idea of what is intended with this one.

Michael C cycled over for minced and brewed about 9pm and talk of mine and thine. He's hoping to make our pub gig. Need to press on with invites for that one. I see that my former pupil Ed Sayeed is on the bill as well - that was a really nice surprise!

Aviary and I met for brekker again this morn and I'm sitting at 'our' table in Esca and it's pretty chillsville outside, colder at 815am than it seemed to be at 645am for some reason... mystery!

And so the week beginneth: learnt my aria from Christmas Oratorio this morning 'Grosser Herr und starker Konig' (there are umlauts etc missing from that title but I can't figure out how to find them for the mo on the keyboard). Speaking of German music and musicians, Julmax and I chatted of Beethoven and his spiritual development (there's a slim paperback from the 70's I'm reading by that title). The Missa Solemnis awaits me some sunny Sunday afternoon at St Anthony's Harpertage. I couldn't take med or hail of it on first listening but aim to maybe get a score and sit down for an hour or two. Oh the sweetness of music and God, divinely combined.

'for Music is but three parts plied and multiplied'

(George Herbert)

Father - rhythm
Son - melody
Spirit - harmony

(texture/colour?)

Must be careful not to over analogise. NB.

Advertised events up to March 2012, updated January 13th

January 2012


Two new events as at 13th January 2012:

Fundraising song auction: Friday 20th January 2012

Barclays Bank, Deptford High Street 11am-2pm

Harper Harmer (plus keys)

and various other artists entertain and fundraise for Julia Maxfield's and 8 other

directors' forthcoming plays with multi-award winning Stonecrabs Theatre Company, namely: 




PlayThings at the Albany 2nd to 4th February 

7.30pm £5 per show, £10 per evening
9 shows over three evenings.

www.stonecrabs.co.uk
www.thealbany.org.uk

@Play_Things



Also
 


Medici Choir with the Brandenburg Sinfonia

Conducted by John Baird

at St Martin in the Fields, Thursday 22nd March 2012,  7.45pm

Programme to include Haydn, "Nelson" Mass and Allegri, Miserere, and Baird, the Sonnet.

Soloists are students from the Royal Schools of Music.


December 2011

New events are Carol Singing at The Falcon Pub, Wednesday 21st December, 7pm, Harper on keys and reading poetry, hosted by Holy Trinity Clapham Common. Around the corner to Clapham North Tube.

Midnight Mass at 2315h, 24th December St Mary Magdalene's Wandsworth Common: in addition to Midnight Mass on the same day at St Ann's Kingston Hill at 1900h.

Kitsch Lounge Riot at the Cafe de Paris: Tuesday 20th December, 9pm on. If you'd like to go you can contact Cafe direct and book a ticket. House band and special guests. I think that Banbury Cross the burlesque act will Not be playing; repeat, Not be playing.


The choir of Heythrop College conducted by Joey Draycott, will be busking Christmas Carols and collecting funds for various charities at Knightsbridge Tube station on Saturday 3rd December at about 2pm onwards.

Their Advent Solemn Vespers is on Thursday15th December at 6.30pm in the College Chapel, Heythrop College, Kensington Square, W8 5HN. We're trying to work out a solo to do. There's entertainment afterwards with mulled and minced.

Medici Choir 60th anniversary concert, 7pm Saturday 10th December: Music from Mass in B minor and Christmas Oratorio and carols for all, mulled and minced after. St Sepulchre-without-Newgate 10 Giltspur Street, City of London, EC1A 9DE. John Baird and David Gostick conducting. Luci Briginshaw - Soprano, Georgina Murray - Mezzo Soprano, Justin Harmer - Bass. Brandenburg Baroque Soloists. www.medicichoir.org/

Sunday 11th December, Holy Trinity Clapham Common Connect service, 6pm for 630pm. Clapham Common.

Friday 16th December, The Half Moon Pub, Herne Hill, Barnaby Hughes and Justin Harmer playing a few home grown songs for about 20 minutes as part of an evening's music at this live music venue. 8pm ish.

Saturday 17th December, The Sun Pub, Clapham Common, 6pm on: Carol singing and the premier of  'The Clapham Christ'. All welcome: organised by Holy Trinity Clapham Common.

Sunday 18th December, St Mary Magdalene's Wandsworth Common, Christmas Carol Sevice, 5pm. Rev Nick Peacock preaching.

I will be playing at Sunday services at St Ann's Kingston Hill on 4th, 18th and 25th December. Also on Christmas Eve at Midnight Mass.

Mama says you're pretty tonight...

So Stacey Jackson my close personal rocker-mum friend text-mails up and invites me over to write with her plus her close personal pop-star friend, then reveals it's a lady called Plavka - yeah, there's not many by that name, certainly in SW7 or 3 - well I'm guessing there's a few more in Croatia anyway.

Google disclosed a few snippets when I put her name in.

Plavka is married to a friend of Rupert de Borchgrave, and I'd met the husband dahn the Phoenix last summer, when he was sharing a pint with Henry Jackson and I was drinking with Rupert: WHO'S 40th BIRTHDAY IT WAS YESTERDAY WHEN WE WERE COMPOSING!

Ok, that's not entirely impossible or improbable, importable or improssible, but it was kind of weird... ANYHOW!... Stace, Plavka and I tried a few things out and came up with something that made 2 of my pupils (and their mother) down in Wandsworth Common, come running back into the room after their lessons with excitement when I started playing it. Admittedly Mum didn't come running, but they all asked  for me to play it again, and it's been buzzing around my head and guitar strings for the past 24 hours.

Stace and I buzzed a few lyrics suggestions back and forth, but I've been composing a spoof version based on comments from Wandsworth Common pupils...

"I don't know if I wrote this song
but if you think you like it then please sing along
Even if it's Britney, it wouldn't be wrong
But Mama says I'm singing tonight..

"I don't know how the chord structure goes...

(then something about powdering noses and
the producer having a couple  a couple of guys that he knows...)

"So Mama says I'm singing tonight!"

I hope it's a hit. I might do a version of the spoof (ie. the lyrics above!) onto youtube, anyhow...

Funeral yesterday for young father (57 ish) at St Ann's. Took the attached photo of the Organ loft Cross in the morning sunlight.

A lot of tuesday was spent wrestling with computer gear and recording various youtube offerings which I plan to drip feed to the t'web (when I get a chance). Tried hard to get my broken camera replaced at Jessops but the Manager (a hot coal blessing upon you madam and your products) wasn't shifting. I was placated by nice young man called Justin who actually knew what he was talking about. (Not me... repeat: not me.) Looks like Santa Nicholas will be visiting the camera shop. Again.

Ended up buying from Graham at Drumshack (honestly: I needed it!) a new-to-me electro acoustic classical guitar with electric pick ups. Oh, yes, and a rainbow guitar strap. And a keyboard case. IT WAS A TENNER AND NEW THEY'RE £60! The keyboard case that is.

(How could I resist...)

Well, the truth is the whole point of having a portable keyboard is that I can take it places and it's already got a date up the road at the Sun pub for poeming and carol singing, and any future Literary Lunches will take on a new character if we're with keys. I'm told that, as a musician, I'm allowed to buy these sorts of things.

Mr Whit joined Aviary and I for a post-church breakfast at Esca this morn. Ramuna, the waitress muse, who's name means Daisy in Lithuanian (I think) and who told us why she's called as much, was looking very museful. Milo dropped in for supper last night (well, a selection of greens that is and some iron) and we wrestled with the Apple and memory sticks. Indomitable and I chatted.

It's Medici Choir shortly, and I'm orf to Covgar to rehearse our B minor and Christmas Oratorio offerings for the 60th Anniversary concert on the 10th December. (At St Sepulchre without Newgate at 7pm.)

Mum and Dad's wedding anniversary is today; wisdom suggests I should refrain from saying the number, but it's a good figure...

We had a pre-anniversary celebration dinner on Tuesday joined by Rindle McDindle and the cast of Eastenders and Holby (Hmmm.) Jack Russell Harmer got a special 2nd walk. Bless.

Seated one day at the Organ... (again)

Friday's concert at St Ann's with Joey Draycott and the Schola Cantorum of Heythrop College seems to have gone down very well. I counted at least 75-80 in the audience which felt reasonably busy, although next time we'll go for a start at at least 730pm instead of hanging about 20 minutes waiting for late arrivals. Michael Cayton played his Von Himmel Hoch very sparktastingly, and the choir sounded particularly good in the hymns. There is some sound footage somewhere (is that the right expression??) I really enjoyed the duet with Martina Jelinkova although we came marginally unstuck once or twice, and Rory Baird, aged 12 and with the wisdom of youth, said he thought it was too long. It was.

Saturday was spent rejoicing in the wonder of the new BB which arrived at a secret drop off, and also recording two vidoes of songs Barenarebee and I are doing on the 17th December at the Half Moon Pub, Herne Hill. This is NOT IN PUTNEY!!! as per advertised location. I will update the forthcoming concerts page. Also tried to finish off The Clapham Christ, the poem that Rev. David Isherwood has asked me to present at The Sun Pub, The Pavement, Clapham Common when HTCC do our carol singing on Saturday 18th December 1800h.


Moderately pleased with the result:

'Better yourself or die'
is the message from on high
in the language that is built
upon the adverts seen on Sky...

and also


The Clapham Christ awaits His home
He waits while we all chat on phones
He waits for you to turn the TV off
and not to give an inward (ahem) cough
each time the name of Jesus is said in love...

and

He'll change the locks on your heart
to keep out selfishness for a start
And find a place to home the gentle Holy Spirit's Dove


That sort of thing. It must be admitted that it has fallen into the pattern of a 'no room at the inn this Christmas' type homily, but there it is and it performs quite well and (mum) said you want to keep listening because of the storyline.

Beerneernaby and I practised our songs after a splendid Pigs on Horseback dinner round at his on Saturday; his Gone are the Days is very playable and prog rocking - it just kinda soldiers on and you just 'wanna keep on strumming'. His high Tenor and my Bass seem to blend well to my ear.

Indomitable de Nordwall struggled against the exigencies of the transport network and finally arrived in Kingston Hill, 180 minutes after leaving the Northern wastes, in time for the last 10 minutes of Friday's concert. Respect to the effort and my thanks. She had the lantern light of Galadriel to guide her and the gift was gladly brought and right joyfully received. It ever burns now in the Halls of St Anthony's Harpertage. The choir plus choir friends went dahn the eight bells at Putney Bridge post Mulled and Minced at St Ann's Hall and pints were sunk and crisps dispatched and reciprocal concerts mentioned.

Sunday, driving rain on Lavender Hill and then the clouds parted, Simpsons style, as Father Michael and I drove up Kingston Hill for choir practice. Well we had three choristers which is considerably better than nul points and they sang well in the service, but we need to get our strength up before we ever manage a communion anthem. Hmm.

Does anyone know The Greyhound Pub in Roehampton (pretty sure of the name)? Never heard it was there - a real country pub in London, with wonderful log fire and good-ish food, with good-full service and atmosphere and wunderbar view of Roehampton wilds or woods. Very Sunday lunch plus little ones crew and it was busy, but lots of space and plenty of parking. Fathers Michael and Pat and their organist headed for a few hours of chewing the cud and discussing the Pope's smoking and Piano playing, dying to self and the driving habits of the Taiwanese. We wondered whether the British habit of being wonderful warriors when abwoad and suffering patiently in queues until they're forced to wait 5 seconds behind a driver who hasn't noticed that the lights have changed (SPLHCB 'he blew his tyres out in the car'): could it... does it... might it... have something to do with our Island Mentality?

We can't escape from the neighbours so we try and be as polite as possible to avoid the rage within at Leylandii growth (etc etc), and then when we finally emerge from our North Sea Nest and go and bash the locals (French, Germans, Italians, Spanish, Dutch, Boers, Japanese, Chinese, Indians etc) we're secretly revenging ourselves for unwarranted greenery impeding the view from Mon Repos?

Answers on a postcard please.

Anyhow, after lunch, a Double Priest Powered lift to St Mary Magdalene Wandsworth Common for a 4pm practice and then a 630pm service of Advent Carols and readings.

Really interesting sermon from Rev Nick Peacock mentioning apothatic understanding that it is easier and sometimes more correct to say what God is not rather than attempting to define the divinity. (Viz John of the Cross). IE: God is not evil (!), God is not selfish, God is not absent. I suppose 'gods are not God' is the message of Judaism: Christianity is much more about God is Love, God is incarnate, Christ is risen, Christ is God. We talked after the service of how the desire to please God, pleases God.

Conducted the St Mary Magsters choir in Adam lay y' bounden and Jesu joy of man's desiring. Really enjoyed them both, but found playing for Psalm 121 and the Baird Mag and Nunc pretty nerve racking. My first Anglican Psalm; an accompanying magazine for organists everywhere! Available from WHSmiths and all good record shops... Yes it does sound a bit nerdish come to think of it. There's a dingbat with the title Nerd on the new BB. Magsters sounded pretty good though.

Thursday night was Medici Choir rehearsal at the Covgar. They sounded pretty good too - Basses gathering confidence or testosterone, one or both. The B Minor Mass is jolly hard for anyone, and the choir have really risen to the challenge. Nice session down the Covgar Hostelry after and chats with JMB about this n t'other, and that an t' ither.

Aviary has just suggested a Monday morning meet at Esca in Clappers so better sign off there. Still in dressing gown.

The prawn heavy paella and the t.v. channel of doom

Tuesday nights at St Anthony's Harpertage usually have one or two ingredienti that crop up at the dinner table rather frequently. Rindle Mcdindle, my dear close friend, has been quasi-adopted by the Harmer family, and has negotiated washing up duties in exchange for regular prawn stir-fries.

The only downside of the patterning of the evening arrangements is that various characters seem to join us, who, to be brutally honest, and by contrast, are NOT welcome.Vis: a certain Dorothy from the church; Zanab and his partner the warrior princess; a Mr I.B. who comes over especially from E17 to join us. Fine chaps and chapesses. Clearly. However, they usually have the decency not to stay for dinner itself, but, unfortunately, as they file out about 2000h, at the same time as someone always seems to choose to be doing their drum practise; ('doof, doof, doof' - Neighbours! Tsk!)  yet MORE people turn up.

The later crowd are medical folk apparently, (although I have no idea where Holby Hospital is) but they seem to have a keen interest in pop music and pantomime.They don't eat much but they do tend to argue amongst themselves. Not what one would make first choice for dinner conversation. Tonight, for instance, while the nibbles were being nibbled this side of the TV screen, one of them had the cheek to start doing something to someone else's blackened fingernail... AND with a needle!

Jack Russell Harmer enjoyed the heaviness of tonight's prawn distribution though...

I found a snarling, pettifogging kind of day awaiting me today. Interesting the difference that a proper breakfast might have made; the company can often be the very best. The Very best. What DOES pettifogging mean???

Dr Song and the Massage of Joy

Well yes, I must confess, I did visit the local Chinese Massage Parlour today, or should I address it more fittingly as Mandarin Medical Centre, here in the Lavender Hill red traffic light district - (roadworks were snarling up Lavender Cross last week.) Apparently my continuing back pain needs Acupressure. It certainly helped, the pummeling I received from the lumbar-angel of mercy (well actually upper back, but I lack the knowledge of the correct term): I sang a few bottom B's after my visit to the treatment room in the tower of Dr Song.

It's been a tough but wonderful several days. The Bard School meet was joyous on Saturday: especially given the blessed 3 hours of reprieve 5 minutes before I was due to head out (late... or So I Thought) to St Mary of the Angels, Ladbroke Grove. A reciprocal blessing on your faulty alarm clock/mobile phone dear Indomitable one. Sarah Keith hooked up with bag carrying duty, and, guitar-on-back and apple-juice-to-hand we ventured to the Pilgrim Paths of Nothilgate. Equipped with provisions for lunch of a homemade-shopbought pizza and spinach + ricotta sheltered in pastry variety, the timing was SPLENDID and with Indomitable de Nordwall and Helen Munt of the Blessed Guitar Strings (BGS for short) we gathered in the Lower Hall of the Exchange of Wisdom. (Tango lessons were going on next door in the Upper Hall of Dance and Light, where the Bardfair stalls where gathered in October. Merrily did we feast and pray, talking of Marthe Robin, and 50 year slumber fasts.

(For those of you listening in laxlidden, a slumber fast in this context does not imply a half-century nap, but the exact opposite: 5 decades without sleep, and sustained by daily Eucharist and water. Oh yes, there was the weekly experience of the bitterness of Christ's Passion, including the usual marks of the body of the Lord.)

We were joined by the most wondrous nuns: brimming over with joy and holiness and music - truly, the Saints are the Doctors of Song: they had come to practise the beautification of the Mass of the Feastday of Christ the King. Their voices were bell like and childlike and joylike: clear with the light of the love of the Lamb.

Mass music also saw Peter Kingsley and I play our composition Beautiful Flower, (youtube harperharmer channel for a previous couple of performances) and Indomitable and I duetted. The Mass setting by one of the Sisters of Charity was so enjoyed, and not merely by mortals, to judge by the nuns joy-filled faces. A symbolic (but highly literal to the tune of £40,000 worth of gold) crown was processed around the church, as we raised our voices and struck the piano keys and Mankind was rededicated to Jesus Christ, King of the Universe as the Pope had asked us to in 1925. (Apparently).

....Which was a bit different to the goings on in the basement of Soho House, about 4 hours later, after we Bards had heated and feasted our Cider and Song in the Lower Hall once more after Mass. (About 15 of us  altogether gathered round tables and candles and guitars and verse and the piano and the Balalaika.) I rushed across town to meet the coatcheck girl Remi (also known as Remihemidemisemiquaver) and descend to the Baron Barran von Barran-Barran von Barran 40th Barran-Birthday Bash. (I usually call him Baz!)

Close personal A-listers hob-bopped with mere benefit claimants, while the papz flash-mobbed the Celebrity crowd. Due to my close contacts with the Sloe Solutions publicity machine, I managed to get hold of a few electronic picz which I will attach by way of example: Hello! thought the combo of my beard and Baz's 'No! but it's November?!' tan weren't great copy, so, gentle reader, the joy of  TEE-chnology means they should appear 'Ere here-lere! (That used to be the entrance exam to Sandhurst some do say... if you pronounce those three words in the appropriate manner it should sound like a Chelsea Father greeting a Counties gymkhana winner and announcing that the prize he is bestowing is merely a subscription to the above-mentioned Celeb Mag: Speak "Oh Hello! Friend", and enter the warrior caverns of Moria. )

Sorry... Distraction! Anyhow; yes I got a few shots which, if he's listening somewhere in cyberspace, are to be printed up and Baz Birthday presented. Juan and I spoke at range about Morley College where he's studying singing; Randle Macdondle nearly headed home to Macdondle Mansions at 2345 (very pleasing to type that number... note to self) but thought better and reported that eventually he reached the night shelter at gone 2am. Tired And Emotional. We convened Sunday pm for Tomato Juice and Halfling of Pride with Sarah Keith. One was debriefed of events after his departure.

Sunday was a long day. St Ann's by 0920: Father Dermot managed a 45 minute Mass, the choir gathering confidence as we progressed through the Hymn points, then into the Hall for a shnuffle of Kafee und Kuchen from Jose and Karen and chats with Katrine then a swift lift a la Norbiton from Carmen.

My doing too much-ometer was on a Sunday setting, so I leisured into the Anglican St Peter's in the town and chatted to Steve plus Carol (Vic other 'alf), Mary (Carol's mum) and Peter (the Vic). A sweeeeet little girl named Lydia gave me my first chocolate coin of the season. It was really nice.

Home to Clappers via an also swift train and an eventually arriving 345 bus (again- nice to type!) after a deelicious Moussaka an' stuff at the Sheesha Cafe in Norbers, plus hour long chat to mum. I do hope that new phone contract has already gone through!

10 minutes - the entire length of my eventually also arriving and much anticipated Nappers... well! I ask you; then up the Hill to Claphamshire and HTCC's Connect Service. Dominic (harperharmer lookalike) on Bass, Suzie McKinnes (mother of Skye with an e) leading, plus Barney and Suzie and Rosie and Piers and with lots of other folk milling and playing and singing (and really rocking) AND worshiping and patting the dog and eating donuts, or drinking Winter-Welcome Hot Chocolate, and praying and preaching and sound desk managing and ohp screen setting-up and ALSO "Altar" shifting - someone  said once that a la CofE it should be referred to as the Lord's Table. Can anyone confirm? Certainly it was very table like last night with it's eazy Band Coat Stand function. Says more than I should comment about, that. But then again there've been some funny things getting onto altars in the occasional Catholic church too...

Then, after Olivia Kilby's talk about The Nehemiah Project - will I do that fundraising L.M. I feel called to do? - home via Varan @Sainsbury's and then a couple of hours with Mike Cayton (licensed to Play) giving  Harmer's Harmonium an outing and the 12 string and the 3rd real 6-string and the new keyboard and working out the music for Twas the Month before Christmas, our concert with Joey Draycott (r'sal tonight at Kensington Square.) Michael, that's good news about what you told me - and I hope St Joseph and St Cecilia are praying hard for you... here's looking forward to Friday in Kingston!

And then, as I said, drinks with Sarah and Randy and bed.

Aviary and I met this morn in Esca, Clappers for toast and 'oney and one... well alright he gave her two sausages and I did see Ramona, the waitress muse.

David the Vic from HTCC has asked me to concoct a poem called the Clapham Common Christ, (almost completed last night) along the lines of  When Jesus Came to Chelsea which he'd heard online (hh channel again if you wanna listen...)

Rupert Brooke was right... love and fame feed the muse.

2347hours - busking through JCSuperstar with Mogenfinch

Richard Mogenmacdorf you genius: that was such fun- but next time sign the visitors book please!

(We also did Joseph; good old-fashioned '70s fun!)

Margate by 1045am today, for Father Eric Mead's funeral at St Anne's Cliftonville. 700? maybe 800? attended. Archbishop Peter very sensible; although less sensible was His Grace's car being stuck in the depths of the car park. In ironic celebration of deceased Father's dislike of the place, Mum and I proceeded by Hyundai to The Turner Contemptible Gallery, hard by the seaweed beds of Margate harbour. Ah yes! My nose remembers it well. The only sulphury whiff of the day, please God.

Gallery really very good (sorry dear Fr.E. and gentle Barnarnaby) and they've added to the somewhat slender collection every visit I've made. Rodin's The Kiss, from the Tate, is quite superb, especially framed by the giant sunset window and the sea, the sea, the shimmering selerous sea.

The Contemptible had me thinking of our  TFoTS rendez-vous lunch this summer bank holiday, when Aviary and Lulu plus Barackananaby arrived a la Margate to meet the gathered Bonet plus Mum and me there, and unwrap the plan of our crazy 2 days of playing and eating and firework watching and pool-playing and late- night-staying-upping and sandy-beach-swimming and how over those few days, dear General  Leah Goodtime was persuaded that Gulliver Nibble was added to the Tracey Emin's tent adornment dictionary of conquests and conquerors. Yahoo!

Met with Joey Draycott in The Strand yesterthursereve at 9pm after a 30 minute rehearsal (andamadasaharperdashacrossthetubeandthenthebridgebacktoclappers) for Sunday at HTCC at Suzie McKinnes' friend Suzie's house (plus a harperharmer lookalike - Bob - on bass.) Joey and I just about sorted Friday's concert programme and got busy with the pencil and the hymn sheet solo allocation. Dear Milo Blackley's very kindly donated Apple G4 very unkindly alloweth a mere 21 minutes of working time away from the plugpoint; so upon our being summarilary kicked out of the nethergatury regions of Leon at 2300h, and the welcome through the Pearly Gates of Pizza Express welcomed us (but without the long desired 3 point pin point: such was the strawloss-work we suffered) it was a race against time before we settled to talking of Nestorianism and Docetism and kenosis and Philippians 2:99 for want of the nail of electricity. For those of you scratching your Bible Indexes at this juncture, it's a kind of ice-cream theology: gentle reader, allow me to explain.

We imitate our Lord by emptying the Chocolate Glory dish (yes - there is one called that on the Pz. Ex. menu), yet we retain our glass bowl -  we do not cling to equality with the cook - and take the nature of a customer, being found in hungry likeness, and humbling ourselves to sharing one portion between two spoons, and being obedient until the last jot and tittle of chocolate sauce has gone. Even scraping the dish.

I'm thinking through that analogy and am a little bit puzzled. Probably another triumph for Comedy over Theology. I haven't kept tabs on the score but PERHAPS I SHOULD! Judgement day ready reckoner - available to buy now (confessional version) or pay and pay and pay later (           !)

"Clearly."

0037hours

Christ the King feast with Indomitable de Nordwall is very close so perhaps it's Nod time here at St Anthony's Harpertage, Lavender Cross, Nodnol.

Sleeeeeeeeep!

1845hours... Newton's Nest with Joel Evans

Tonight's rehearsal for Connect at Holy Trinity Clapham Common this Sunday is located about 400 yards from the front door of the St Anthony's Harpertage, although it will mean returning Sarf from Newton's Nest and 'over the Battersea to home.' Doubtless it will be a world away from both, despite geographical proximity...

Joel and I are holed up on the fourth floor of our Belgravia Office suite. The screens of trading figures are flickering in the half light as I type my blog and he is busy slaying Russians - I lie! Master of the Universe Andreth McNewton has temporarily finished his deals for the day and is probably down at the pub sinking a Magnum of Krystal Kola (no ice please; mate, I said NO ICE PLEASE!) The tunes are pumping here while the landlord's out swapping short selling tips with the barmaid of the Duke of Wellington. I suppose he might be on the phone to his tailor or turning keys in church locks at St Michael's Chester Square.

Time for the 2nd of my 4 bridge crossings of the day - deo volunte, as it says we should qualify even our 21st certainties in the book of James the knobbly kneed. (Through prayer apparently - Camel Knees was his kneekname.) I'm sure Andreth McNewton would agree in theory, as would every honest fund master and Universe Manager.

When Santa got stuck up the chimney

It's Willow Nursery Christmas Play rehearsal time; the Willow Nursery Staff choir, ably assisted by the Munchkin Chorus have been getting some pre-advent Christmas carol singing in, in an-ti-ci-pation of the annual presentation of the Greatest Story Ever Told. I bet Cecil B wouldn't have had a St Joseph eating-a cake–story–sideline.

"Pat a cake pat a cake baker's man
Bake me a cake as fast as you can.
Pat it and prick it and mark it with J
Put in the oven for Joseph today"

DON'T GO THERE!

Autumn is really autumning here on Clapham North-of–Northside; I stretched my legs across the Common yesterday morning and had a lovely leaf-furrowing time. I thought of the November All Soul's for obvious reasons: I read somewhere that as many people have ever lived and died as are currently alive today. 7 billion leaves is a lot by anyone's standards: I mean I suppose it's a lot - that's one of those google questions probably better left unasked, viz: how many leaves on a Clapham Common Plane tree? How many trees would you need for 7 billion leaves?

Jack wrote that Autumn was the best season - whilst being fully aware that the season of Heaven is Spring. He was also a big fan of old age for the same reasons, although at 64 he was rather more Saga than gaga when he died, the other two ages of the British being Lager and Aga. (Got that one off a post-card at Nancy McNeil's, although it wasn't originally referring to the writer of TLTWATW, obviously!) I guess there's some funny pun version there on English Literature Dons with a passion for Anglo-Saxon and contemporary pop artists although not sure how to adapt the age of Lager to the senescence of Sherry.

There's not enough time to do everything! Does anyone else feel that????

Virge noticed my breakfast at Cafe Nero this morning when we bumped into each other at Georgie's pastry counter and comment filtered back to the corridors of the Willow along the lines of "was it a heavy night last night Justin then?" OK, it was 2 croissants and a fruit salad and a limonata: but the coffee was just a hot water and the headache wasn't from imbibing. Honest!

Just heard from writing buddy at Sloe Solutions; Liz Cole is somehow managing to hold down a serious Munchkin Management position at the global leader in the Sloe gin industry while churning out 27000 words so far of a national novel writing month effort.

A good friend of mine...


Tells me that he will be checking the previous Blog for corrected grammatical errors...

Dear John, I couldn't work out how to do that for all of them but managed to do so for one of 'em.

(Pace DLE and JCDF, JC, PH, RP; couldn't remember all the initials!)

Barnaby and I, we have been chatting about the programme for the Half Moon Pub on the 16th December.
He's probably doing 'Since you cared about me' and 'Gone are the days', plus one other. I've agreed to practise 'Leonard Cohencidence' and 'The Turkey Messiah' ("Cancel Christmas, Thanksgiving over; Bernard Matthews' death was a Jackpot Rollover...")

Funeral today for Kay Williams at St Ann's: the first hymn seemed to slip off the radar - I'd been looking forward to For All the Saints particularly, but was upsterviced by Bryn and the CD player.

Chatting to JMB about the programme for the Mary Mag's Advent Carol service, and Richard Mogenfinch (real name Finchendorf, or is it Dorfenmog?) has asked me to play for a "Jazz singer" (!) on Friday at Push Studio in Dulwich. This could be very interesting. I do a kind of unreasonable impression of  'Jazz' at the best of times, and with a downhill key and a tune that's less than familiative one wonders if this is wise...

Father Christmas is due to put in an appearance at The Willow Nursery on Thursday December 15th. Last year he parked his bus pass/sleigh/Nelven line at Asda's spacious facility (plenty of room for "Every Little Helper"...) then bifocal-located for a quick change at Wandsworth Road's Baptist Church. I have been practising Giant laughter this year for Jack and the Beanstalk (www.4diospace.com or Amazon at some point; I think it's Nortoning soon) so FC is Reddy and Wassailing.

I don't think technology is very good for practising music time...

Concerts; Info changed 2/12/12

I've got a few concerts coming up and thought of keeping a Blog for people to look at.
Yes, this is kind of an invite and an advert, not too much subversion or aversion and hopefully no perversion or inversion; probably more extroversion than introversion.

"CLEARLY..."

As a good friend of mine often says; many will know who I mean... well relatively many.

(Can anyone tell me a good reply to that please: I've often searched for one.)

Medici Choir 60th Anniversary Concert: St Sepulchre without Newgate,
7pm Saturday 10th December 2011,  (NB 7 pm). Music from J.S.Bach Christmas Oratorio, Mass in B minor, audience participation Carols. Conducted by John Baird with Medici Choir and Brandenburg Baroque soloists; I'm  doing a couple of solos.
Tickets £12 on door, mulled wine/ mince pies. 10 Giltspur Street, London EC1A 9DE. St Paul's Tube or number 11 bus (presumably).
www.medicichoir.org

also...

Twas the month before Christmas... Advent Concert at St Ann's Kingston Hill,
7pm Friday 25th November 2011 (again NB 7pm). Music to include Vaughan-Williams, Herbert Howells, Palestrina, Bach, audience Advent Carols. Soprano and Bass (me) soloists plus Mike Cayton, Organ and the Schola Choir of Heythrop College conducted by Joey Draycott.
Tickets £5 on door, mulled wine/ mine pies. Nearest station is Norbiton then 85 bus (but you have to cut through the hospital to reach the stop). 85 also goes direct from Putney mainline or Kingston stations. Plenty of free parking at the church.

not forgetting...

Advent Sunday Carol service at St Mary Magdalene's Wandsworth Common,
5pm (I think!!!) 27th November 2011. Choir and solo items including Jesus Christ the Apple Tree, The Angel Gabriel from Heaven Came, Sleepers Wake, Adam Lay y' bounden etc.
Retiring Collection (almost certainly but not obligatory.)
Wandsworth Common station then 7 minute walk along Bellevue Road towards Trinity Road (left at the top.)

which leads me to my next point...

Charity Carol singing hosted by Holy Trinity Clapham Common, at the Sun Pub.
5pm-6pm Saturday 17th December 2011, The Pavement, (which is the street name) Clapham Common. I'm tickling those plastic ivories...
Clapham Common Tube or 137, 88, 35, 345 bus etc.

swiftly followed by...

Mary Magdalene's Wandsworth Common Christmas Carol Service, 5pm Sunday 18th December 2011
As above for travel.

of course there's also...

The Fellowship of the String is involved at The Half Moon Pub on Friday 16th December 2011.
Barnaby Hughes and I are doing a 20 minute set of original songs, some of which have been premiered at Literary Lunches at Terre di Sud this year. The pub's in Herne Hill: NOT LOWER RICHMOND ROAD and we're on "at some point" (whatever that means... probably after 8pm).THIS VENUE INFORMATION HAS CHANGED!

and...

Lucy Britton is singing with her choir Chantage at St James' Piccadilly at 7pm on Friday 9th December 2011 in a Christmas Concert. If you google them you'll see they are really excellent (BBC choir of the year a little while ago.) A few of us went to their poignant Remembrance Concert in the City last week; along with the fantastic Scottish actor reading Wilfred Owen they were the real highlight.

There is also...

Jesus Christ the Fullness of Life ecumenical service,
Church of the Immaculate Conception, Farm Street W1, 730pm Thursday 1st December.
Peter Kingsley and various folk will be playing and leading a reflective service of words and music around the theme of God's Mercy. If you'd like to be involved in the music, do go along at 630pm beforehand. I'm not playing at this one on this occasion. There is usually something along these lines on the first Thursday of the month.


And closer to hand...

Christ the King, Holy Mass followed by reception.
Saturday 19th November at 6pm, at St Mary of the Angels, Ladbroke Grove. Music and words from Artists and Musicians from Sarah de Nordwall's Bard School.

or if you have some free Sunday time...

Connect Service at Holy Trinity Clapham Common, 530pm for 6pm, Sunday 20th December. This features doughnuts and Anglicharangelicalism plus yours truly on keyboards. There's another of these on Sunday 11th December.

and if you haven't made plans for Christmas...

I'm playing at St Ann's Kingston Hill on Christmas Eve  for Midnight Mass and on the 25th December for the Mass at 1030am. If anyone would be interested in playing or singing with me that day (or the 24th) please let me know (you should get there for a rehearsal at 930am - there is NO public transport and taxi's are triple rate that day I think - I should have one booked from Lavender Hill and will have a Priest powered lift back to the same afterwards...)