Sunday, December 12, 2010

Warbling voices

to San Geronimo, par avion

I imagine that we all get used to hearing some repeated epithet which sums up our circumstances.. Quiet is the one which I hear most. The consolatory and healing nature of quietness pours through the scriptures. Be still, be still.. How enchanting it can be when quiet is present. Paul told the over-excited Thessalonians to 'study to be quiet.'

Matins at Wormingford. It is the day when we have to be seen as ministers and stewards of God.. Afterwards, I walk over to the tall memorial to John and Christine Nash under a holly bush and see lichen blurring their names.. Christmases at Bottengoms, me plucking pheasants on the doorstep, Christine preparing the goose, John playing Schubert, the cats hogging the fire, children calling to be hugged.

A shepherd on the radio confessed to the interviewer how much it meant to him to read the lesson.. Some forty of us must have been speaking 'Christmas' - Thanks be to God.. Boys' and girls' and old folks' voices spin through the arches, each reader releasing his consignment like a bird..  
Courtesy Valéry Lorenzo

Afterwards, beneath the bells, I say, 'Well done! Well done!' The readers are quiet, having spoken.

John Nash

Ronald Blythe
Word from Wormingford:
  A Parish Year
Viking, 1997©

Henry Purcell
The Fairy Queen
Sir Roger Norrington
London Classical Players
Schütz Choir of London
EMI, 1994©


  1. Time of year, that sort of thing. Won't happen again!