Summer term rehearsals on Zoom

The on-going lockdown is preventing is from rehearsing, but there is some light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps we may get to meet again before the end of the year.

In the meantime, we have arranged a series of virtual rehearsals on Zoom. Our accompanist Benedict Lewis-Smith will be taking these rehearsals weekly in two sessions

The first session will run from April 12th until May 17th with a break on May 3rd. The music will be based on the “Garlands and Goddesses” concert that we originally planned for the summer. Our conductor Martin writes:

The Music we will be looking at is by Luca Marenzio, John Wilbye, Thomas Weelkes, Robert Pearsall, Henry Smart and Roger Quilter. There's a total of fourteen pieces with a lot of variety. I've asked Ben to dip into them as he sees fit - when it comes to the point we may not do all fourteen, but we will be hoping to use this music as the basis for a concert in the Autumn”

The itinerary for these sessions is as follows:

• April 12th: Marenzio: Scendi dal paradiso & Zefiro torna

• April 19th: Pearsall: Down in my garden

• April 26th: Wilbye: Adieu, sweet Amaryllis

• May 10th: Quilter: To electra

• May 17th: Pearsall: O who will O’er the downs so free

The second session will run from May 24th to June 28th and be based on movements from the Brahms Requiem:

• May 24th: Selig sind, die da Leid tragen

• June 7th: Denn alles Fleisch

• June 14th: Wie lieblich sind

• June 21st: Denn wir haben

• June 28th: Selig sind die Todten

We will have to make a charge for these sessions (to cover Ben’s fee and cost of music) and that will be £25 per 5-week session.

Real singing will have to wait a bit longer, but we have our initial/basic plans ready.  We will be refining these over the coming weeks and let us keep our fingers crossed for later in the year!

The trials and tribulations of a virtual choir

As lockdown continues we all need some light relief.  Here's a video that may strike a chord with those of us in the SWLCS who have joined virtual singing sessions, virtual choirs and even recorded our own voices during lockdown.

Spring term Zoom choir sessions

Sadly, it seems that our little glimmer of hope that we might start singing again in March has been extinguished. Maybe by the summer term, early May  – still no doubt with good ventilation, social distancing, smaller groups and masks – one can hope… but, as ever, don’t hold your  breath… maybe September…

Let us hope that the vaccination programme really gets under way very quickly which should help.

In the meantime, we have a programme set up for some of the Mondays in the Spring term which we hope you will enjoy. All Zoom meetings at 730pm. Paul will send out the invitations to all choir members by email.

Monday 11th January

Singing with Ben over Zoom where we’ll be tackling “Zadok the Priest” (Handel) and “Thou Knowest Lord” (Purcell).

Monday 25th January

7.30pm: “Painting of Winter Scenes” - an illustrated talk from Charlie

800pm: Our Annual General Meeting - reports will be sent out by email before the meeting.

Monday 8th February

Singing with Ben over Zoom where we’ll be singing three movements from Vivalidi’s “Gloria”: “Gloria”, “Domine fili unigenite” and “Cum Sancto Spiritu”.

Monday 22nd February

“Are the eight remaining European monarchies destined to become republics?” - a talk from Bob Morris.

Monday 8th March

Singing with Ben over Zoom - the “Kyrie” and “Gloria” from Mozart’s “Coronation Mass”.

Monday 22nd March

“Conductors and Authors” - a quiz with Andrew Bunbury

 Monday 29th March

 An evening with our conductor Martin

Fifty years with the South West (on and off)

One of our longest-serving sopranos has now been singing with the South West Choral Society for fifty years. Here she shares some memories of a half-century in the choir.

Most years I ‘file’ Jan’s summer letter with a loose pile of letters from previous years, concert programmes, flyers, itineraries for choir trips, accounts and balance sheets on top of the piano.  In this strange, silent year there was no summer letter but the filing reminds me that this autumn I clocked up fifty years singing with the choir.

In autumn 1970 a neighbour, John Baird, had started conducting the choir and needed singers.  I enjoyed the choral singing I’d had a taste of at school so went along with my father to the Bec School.  Either Martin or Penny, John’s wife, accompanied – and I have a memory that Martin dealt with concert management. I must have been the youngest of a group of what felt to me quite formidable women, particularly the altos. The choir survived with a tenor section of only four for many years but we usually managed eight or so basses.  But I stuck with it and enjoyed it and did a stint on the committee.  My Letrasetted flyers and posters from the early eighties look old-fashioned and desperately unprofessional in the depths of that pile.

As Bob told us lately, John could be an irascible conductor and at some point in my early years with the choir we were doing the Bruckner motets in a concert at Fulham Town Hall.  We didn’t manage to pick up our notes and made a right mess of the start – John flung down his baton, and left the room.  He mellowed as he aged and one of my favourite memories is the contrasting conducting styles demonstrated by  John and Martin at the scratch Messiah we joined to raise funds for Mary Magdalene’s church roof.  Anyone who sang that day and didn’t know both conductors must have been a little bemused: John urged us to listen to each other and hardly gave us a beat, while Martin had a much more definite style and way of keeping us together in some of the elaborate and tricky choruses – no going astray.

Rehearsal spaces have varied widely and wildly, from the tranquillity of the Bec School hall, wood panelled and facing west with the evening sun streaming through the windows on the honours boards, to the austere concrete of Ernest Bevin school hall on same site where sometimes as the accompanist opened the piano a mouse would run out . . .  Then adult education moved us to Chestnut Grove’s drama hall where there was no natural light and such a deadening acoustic that we were routinely shocked by the noise we could make when let loose in a church for a concert.  We often joined together with the United Hospitals Choir and I remember going to rehearse in an amazing room at one of the London hospitals – I think it must have been the Great Hall at Barts.  Balham Baptist Church, our rehearsal space once we devolved from adult education, has been something of a haven.

I have sung with the choir in such a range of venues: carols in the Arndale when we were unable to get the piped music turned off, the cavernous and very chilly church in Hammersmith where Ernie (Jan’s husband) wrestled with a heater that looked like an Apollo rocket and was just as noisy laid up the central aisle, Tewkesbury Abbey for Caroline’s wedding, the chapel at Strawberry Hill (the modern college not Walpole’s house), Westminster Abbey where we sang Verdi’s Requiem and felt the shock of singing a top C at the end and hearing it coming back seven seconds later.  Then there was the bouncy, and very high, organ loft at a church in Calais where we worried that Martin, backing up to a very low parapet to conduct, might fall over to the nave floor a long way below.

We’ve done, I think, fourteen foreign trips since the early nineties.  My favourite concert is probably the one in the cathedral at St Omer on our first trip – the audience consisted of three people and a dog and they were the most appreciative and attentive listeners (the dog was very patient).  I have never been as cold as we were that evening.  We shivered so much that they turned the moveable gas heaters on us and grilled us nicely for the second half. 

Before a more recent foreign trip our former female accompanist warned the new incumbent who was coming with us ‘watch out – they drink like fish’ – and I have to admit there is some truth in that.

Perhaps the most important memories are about people.  The choir, for me, has been a family affair as my Dad sang with the South West for some years.  My youngest sister, Kate, joined later when the choir had a few more tenors and she found her husband, Nich, in their ranks.  My husband, Fred, loyally attends concerts and, over the years my children have come too.  Harriet sat through Messiah at All Saints in Tooting when she was all of six and Kate’s daughter Tabitha slept through a Mozart requiem at St Lukes when she was under six months.

One choir member, who still sings with us, told me once that she wouldn’t have got through early motherhood without the choir, ‘I’d have gone mad without Monday nights’.  Here’s hoping we can get back to singing together next year and ward off any encroaching insanity.

Autumn choir meetings over Zoom

As we still can’t rehearse we have set up a series of Zoom meetings for our Monday evenings. This will give us a chance to get together and catch up with our Monday friends!

Monday 28th September

We’ll be singing over Zoom with Ben - our accompanist. He is going to do a few exercises and also give us some ideas for helping to keep our voices from going rusty during these choir-less months. And we shall sing Fauré’s “Cantique de Jean Racine” and Stainer’s “God so loved the World”. download.

Monday 12th October

Michael is going to do a Quiz. There will be prizes!

Monday 26th October

David is going to take us on a virtual walk.

He writes: This 'walk' is entitled 'War and the City' to coincide with the 80th anniversary of the start of the Blitz in September 1940.We begin at St Paul's Cathedral and end at Smithfields. During this 'walk' we will visit parts of the City directly affected by the Blitz be they civic buildings, churches or industrial areas. We will come across both individual acts of bravery and collective ones as well. We will discover places which are associated with previous wars and sites which are connected to the consequences of the Second World War. The 'walk' will show how London was an almost continuous target for bombardment from 1940 to the last months of the war in 1945.

Those of you who have been on one of David’s “normal” walks know how good they are. Don’t miss the virtual version!

Monday 9th November

'Madness, Death, Desire, and Love: the complex background to Brahms's German Requiem' with Martin.

This is what we hope we shall be singing together in January and it will be so good to have some background to it. Fingers crossed for January!

Monday 23rd November

Bob Morris and Andrew Bunbury – Ask Me Anything (though Bob and Andrew retain the right of veto!!!!)

‘The committee thought it might be of interest to choir members to take part in a live Zoom web discussion - chaired by Jonathan – with two of our older members, Andrew Bunbury and Bob Morris. These two would start the light-hearted proceedings by talking briefly about their musical lives and then – in proceedings moderated by Jonathan - respond to questions about, well, really anything about their lives that may be of interest.

Do join for what should be an interesting evening. As basses, they sit at the back, a bit out of sight, so it will be good to see them at the front!!

Monday 7th December

Zoom Carol rehearsal

Monday 14th December

Actual Carol Singing round the streets – again, fingers crossed and thermals at the ready as we probably will still have to be socially distanced, so no huddling together!!!

COVID-19: Is singing dangerous? When can the choir meet again?

From our conductor Martin Everett.

It’s easy to say what we want to happen. We want to be able to meet again on Monday evenings, in the first instance to rehearse as usual, and eventually to give concerts at the end of every term. Can we achieve this as things are at present?

On a personal note, I want to make it clear that I miss the South West more than I could possibly describe. In all the time I have known it – more than 60 years now – there has never been as long a period of inactivity as this. It has been extremely frustrating, to say the least. So I want the choir’s activities to resume as soon as they possibly can. When we get the go-ahead, I will be there like a shot: I’m as keen as anyone to get back to our regular routines. But I’m also a realist. So over the months since the Pandemic began, I have been following closely all the reports of research, all the ideas put forward by directors and members of other choirs and all the contradictory theories about what is possible and what isn’t.

Any decision we take about when and how to start up again has to be made in the light of what we understand about this wretched virus. In particular, though, we need to remember that when it all started, choir members died – not our members, thankfully, but enough people from enough choirs to mean one simple thing: starting up again may literally be a question of life or death – not for everyone, but just maybe for one or two of us. Is it worth a risk as high as that? In deciding how the choir can start up again, that’s what we must always keep in mind.

So this is a summary of what is known or believed at the time of writing. I haven’t written it as an academic article, with lots of references and citations, but everything that follows is a summary of information that can be found by anyone, summarised in non-technical language without distorting what it all means. At the end of it, when I hope you will all have a better idea of what the issues are, I’ve summarised the steps we might need to take to get singing once again. It’s a bit long – I’m sorry about that – but there is a lot to say and a lot to think about.

Why is there a problem?

At the start of the Pandemic, a number of choirs were badly affected by the virus. The first case I heard about was the Skagit Valley Chorale from Washington State, USA, where 61 members had met for a rehearsal. On 17 March 2020 it was reported that 52 of them had developed symptoms of Coronavirus, two of whom later died. Then there was the Amsterdam Mixed Choir, which gave a performance of Bach’s St John Passion on 8 March. Out of 130 members, 102 developed symptoms and there were four deaths. 50 members of the Berlin Cathedral Choir also fell ill at about the same time. And finally, two choirs from Bradford (the Voices of Yorkshire Choir and the All Together Now Community Choir) reported that several members had suffered from Covid-like symptoms as early as January – well before the virus was regarded as a major problem in Britain.

The evidence from these cases was not scientifically proven at the time, but there did seem to be reasons to believe that the act of singing together in a choir, in close proximity to other people, had contributed to, or may even have caused, the spread of the virus. As a result, choirs right across the world took the same decision that we did, and stopped both rehearsing and giving concerts.

Things we have learned about the Coronavirus

Since the start of the Pandemic, people who are interested in choirs and singing have learned a lot about two specific phenomena: ‘Droplets’ and ‘Aerosols’. These things have always existed, but they have developed a new significance since the onset of Covid-19. Put simply, they are different types of moisture, expelled through the mouth when people speak or sing. This moisture comes from the lungs, larynx and mouth and there is nothing that can be done to prevent it: it’s something that is produced by all living creatures.

‘Droplets’ are relatively large – roughly 5 micrometres in diameter (though scientists disagree about this figure). For comparison, a human hair is about 50 micrometres in diameter. In other words, they are tiny, but still can be visible. One expelled, they drop fairly quickly to the floor or any other nearby surface, where they eventually evaporate.

‘Aerosols’ are much smaller – below 5 micrometres – and they are light enough to float on the air, forming a cloud that is invisible in normal life, but can be seen under certain laboratory conditions.

The problem with both Droplets and Aerosols is that they can carry particles of active virus. When the Pandemic began, it was thought that only Droplets were really dangerous: the virus can survive on surfaces (how long it survives is related to the nature of the surface), so if you touch a door handle or light switch that an infected particle has landed on, and then rub your eye or pick your nose, you can catch the illness. That is why hand washing is important.

As the understanding of this virus has developed, the ways it is transmitted have become clearer. It is now generally understood that the Coronavirus is airborne, and can be carried as much by Aerosols as by Droplets. Aerosols linger in the air for minutes or even hours before they disperse. They also accumulate, so that the more people there are in a room, the more they build up.

One very helpful article by an American researcher from the University of Colorado-Boulder compared the spread of Aerosols to cigarette smoke, because the smoke is an Aerosol that can be seen. If you are in a room with someone who is smoking, there is a good chance you will breathe in some of the smoke, especially if you are close to the smoker. If you are in a room with several smokers, the chances are higher. Eventually the smoke will disperse, but only if the room is reasonably well ventilated. Many of us can remember what it was like going into a stuffy pub in the old days, and seeing the cigarette smoke literally hanging in the air.

Now imagine that the smoke is carrying tiny particles of the Coronavirus. As you breathe it in, you might well be infecting yourself without being aware – no one can tell which bit of the smoke is carrying the virus. So it is with singing, or with any activity which brings a lot of people together in a confined space. Everyone’s breath produces Aerosols; if just one person is infected with the virus, particles of it will be carried into the air invisibly, and anyone else might be unlucky enough to breathe it in and become ill.

Research findings

A major British research project recently reported its findings. You may well have seen the headlines: “Singing is no more dangerous than speaking”. Choir directors and choir members right across the country leaped on these findings – at long last there seemed to be hope that we could soon start rehearsing again! So it’s worth considering exactly what this project set out to do, and how the research was conducted.

A group of people – brass players of different instruments, opera singers (real ones!) and jazz singers were asked to play, speak and sing into a tube which measured how far the Aerosols travelled. They read, sang and played Happy Birthday, as well as singing or playing single notes of different pitches, at a variety of dynamic levels. The results of these experiments showed that the Aerosols from singing fairly quietly travelled no further than those from speaking, but the distance increased as the dynamic level got louder.

It is important to note that this project did not set out to measure the effects of Aerosols floating in the air – it measured the distance they could travel, nothing more. It was also restricted to one speaker or singer at a time, so it did not attempt to address the issue of the cumulative effect of several people speaking or singing together in an enclosed space. Unfortunately, therefore, the results were of limited relevance to choirs – and most of the headlines were quite misleading.

To make things more complicated, reports of a second study, using the same approach as the British one, were published on 24 August 2020. This study came from Lund University in Sweden and it focused specifically on singers. Seven professional singers were involved, covering all voice parts, and five amateur singers (tenors and altos). These 12 people spoke and sang into a tube, at different pitches and at different dynamic levels. There were two main differences between the Lund study and the British one: in Lund the Aerosols from the singers were measured both with and without face masks (in the British study face masks were not used); and in Lund measurements were also taken from two people known to be suffering from Covid-19.

The Lund results directly contradict those of the British study. In Lund they found that there was a big difference between speaking and singing, even at quiet dynamic levels, but the difference was significantly reduced when the singers wore face masks. No measurements were taken, however, from the sides of the face masks. The authors of the report wrote that “…as surgical masks have a loose fit, some particles may have exited on the sides where we did not measure.”

In the air samples collected from the Covid-19 patients, the Lund researchers could not detect active particles of the virus. That seems to be encouraging news, but the report is very cautious about it and it is clear that more research needs to be done in this area.

Mitigation, preventative measures

The research projects described above are the first two of their kind ever attempted. Since they are contradictory, neither of them can be taken as definitive. We need to wait until more studies have been done using the same or similar approaches before we can form a clear opinion about exactly how far Aerosols travel from an individual’s mouth or about the differences between normal speech and quiet singing, or between shouting and loud singing.

Testing choir members might help, of course, because there can be no danger at all if no one is carrying the virus. Droplets and Aerosols have always existed (we just haven’t needed to be very conscious of them before now) and they have always expelled viruses such as influenza or the common cold (both of which, as it happens, are Coronaviruses – but not usually as dangerous as the Covid-19 version). I have therefore tried to find out whether any research is being done into the development of a simple test, rather like a breathaliser, that would be easy to self-administer, quick to produce results and more accurate than the current average of 38% false positives/negatives. It appears that research into such a test is indeed going on, but that (a) it will take time to develop and (b) there is no such thing as a test that is 100% accurate. Research in this area is like trying to find no just one but two Holy Grails: an effective vaccine and a quick, reliable test. For the time being, therefore, we have to work around things without either of these having been developed.

Testing: April 2021 Update

Since I wrote the original version of this article, two different types of test have become widely available in the UK. The simplest one is the Lateral Flow Test (LFT) which measures the presence of antigens and can be self-administered with a swab down the throat and up the nose. Results are usually available in about 30 minutes. Initially it was reported that these tests gave a high number of false positives and – more worryingly – false negatives. As they have been used more widely, research is now suggesting that there may be less than one false positive in every 1,000 tests carried out. Even more helpfully, these tests can identify people who have the Coronavirus without showing any symptoms: this is potentially very significant for the SWLCS and for other choirs like it all over the country.

The other type of test is the Polymerase Chain Reaction Test (PCR) which detects the genetic information (RNA) of the virus. That is only possible when someone is already infected. This type of test requires analysis in a laboratory, so it is not suitable for providing quick results. Its commonest use at the moment is in confirming diagnoses from LFT tests.

Resuming our Activities

Four aspects of meeting to rehearse need to be addressed: the number of people present and the space between them (distancing), the length of singing time in relation to breaks, the ventilation of the space in which the rehearsals take place and the hygiene regime that may be required by any venue we use. It is worth bearing in mind the final sentence of the Lund University report, which says, “Based on these results, singing in groups is likely to be an activity at risk of transmitting infection if appropriate control and prevention measures are not applied, such as distancing, hygiene, ventilation and shielding.” Consequently, the relevant considerations we need to consider are as follows, with questions that stem from them that I have made relevant to the specific needs of the SWLCS:

Number of people and distancing

The more people are present, the more Aerosols are produced and the more they accumulate. Can we proceed with around 60 people present? Would it be safer to limit attendance to a smaller number (20? 30?), perhaps by dividing the choir into two or three smaller groups and having rehearsals on different evenings?

How distant should people be from each other? Is 1m sufficient? – probably not. Would 2m be better? – almost certainly. And because Aerosols can spread to the sides as well as in front of the singers, the distancing should probably be 2m in all directions around any individual participant.

Some questions arise from this. Will people still feel like members of, say, an alto or a tenor section if they are required to stand that far apart from each other? Or will it feel more like singing on your own? Part of what singing in a choir means is being a member of a voice group, so how will distancing affect people’s motivation to come?

Length of singing time in relation to breaks

In order to avoid too much accumulation of Aerosols, it is widely recommended that choirs ought not to sing for longer than 30 minutes before taking a break (which means moving somewhere else, so that the rehearsal space can be empty for enough time to allow the Aerosols to disperse). One recommendation I have read is that this time needs to be long enough for three complete changes of air within the space. Is that feasible in Balham Baptist Church, where there is no powered air extraction system? – probably not. Is opening the windows enough, assuming enough of them can be opened? – maybe, but how could we tell? How long should we allow for the Aerosols to disperse? – 20 minutes? an hour?

What should we do in cold weather and throughout the winter? Singing in a space with a lot of open windows would mean singing in the cold. Would people be willing to accept a level of discomfort like that?

What would people do during the break? Close association with other people who are not members of one’s own household is to be discouraged. In the case of Skagit Valley Chorale, choir members had a break during which they had coffee and biscuits just as we do. Some people have attributed the spread of the virus to this, as much as to the actual singing. So we ought not to have our usual kind of break. Would people be willing to come if we couldn’t have the kind of social break that we are used to?

Ventilation

This is related to the length of breaks, as I have described above. Aerosols disperse more quickly in the open air than in any enclosed space, however big it may be. One solution might therefore be to meet outside, but this is not feasible during the winter for obvious reasons. Some inside spaces can be safer than others, however. Halls with modern air extraction and filtration systems can have their air changed completely in a relatively short space of time, but such halls are not available to us. It may be true that a larger space is safer than a smaller one, so we might consider rehearsing at St Anne’s Wandsworth rather than at Balham Baptist for a time (assuming the church would allow us to do so). But we would still need to keep doors and windows open.

Hygiene

Because Droplets fall on surfaces and any virus they contain can remain active for a long time, cleaning of chairs, pews, floor, light switches, door handles, etc. will have to be done each time we rehearse.

Testing and Vaccination

Should we ask members to take a Lateral Flow test before they attend a rehearsal? Should we make this a condition of attendance? Should we ask for evidence of vaccination? Would either or both of these make it possible to reduce the distancing we allow between people? Would members willingly accept stipulations such as these?

Conclusions

Resuming normal choir life is going to be difficult, whenever and however we decide to do it. We have a lot of things to consider, including of course the bad psychological effects of being deprived of an activity that we all value. But we must prioritise the safety of all our members, many of whom are also our friends. Every individual in the choir matters as much as everyone else – that’s the kind of group it is, and I certainly wouldn’t have it any other way. We don’t discriminate, as a matter of conscious policy. So any decision we make will, I trust, be made for the whole choir, in its entirety. As I said at the start, I want to get back to singing as much as anyone, but only when it is safe enough to do so without undue risks to the health and safety of our members.

Desert island discs with our accompanist, Benedict Lewis-Smith

We hope to return to singing as soon as it’s safe to do so, but in the meantime we have asked our accompanist - Benedict Lewis-Smith to name some of his favourite records and talk about his musical life.

Hello Ben and thank you for sharing your Desert Island Discs with us.

Thank you very much for asking me. I have to say the island life sounds very appealing right now.

I think you’re not a Londoner born and bred – is that right?

That’s right, I was born in Bristol, and then moved to Portsmouth at I think about the age of 8. I went to school there at Portsmouth Grammar, until 16 years old and then moved to Somerset for boarding school - a bit of a shock to the system!

You went to Wells Cathedral School as a specialist musician and organ scholar. What did that involve?

Indeed, I was at Wells during my sixth form years. I felt rather lucky to be ‘on the staff’ at the cathedral at a relatively young age. I maintain, the one way to improve sight-reading (or really achieve anything!) is to be thrown in at the deep end where you think you can’t quite accomplish something. You just have to make it work.

Where did you first start playing the organ? It seems quite an unusual choice for a youngish boy!

I started playing the organ as a chorister at Portsmouth Cathedral, under the tutelage of David Price. I guess I must have been around 10 or 11. It felt quite an honour to be able to practise on the mighty cathedral instrument which had a cracking 32’ reed, the bombarde stop! This was one of the earliest appeals of learning the instrument. The solo ophicleide was a bit of a beast too! I’m terribly sorry, this musn’t descend into a paradise for anoraks, although I hope Martin on his distant island might appreciate an organ duet or two? At the age of 15 or so I headed over to St Mary’s, Portsea, as Organ Scholar, until leaving for Wells in 2004.

 Are you from a “musical” family?

 No not at all but my parents are keen musical enthusiasts. I remember encountering my grandparents’ baby grand piano in my earliest days on holidays to their place in the Cotswolds. 

 And what is your first disc and why have you chosen it?

 Tristan and Isolde, Karajan, with Jon Vickers as Tristan.

I remember it vividly, in Portsmouth, listening on headphones late at night all in one sitting.

Then, later, at Oxford - I remember Roger Allen, tutor in music and former Director of Music at St Peter’s, Oxford, suggesting that the preparatory work for the week might be to open a bottle of claret and listen to love duet ‘O sink hernieder’.

This sounded like an excellent way to while away an evening! May I prescribe it now?

Then you went as Organ Scholar to The Queen’s College, Oxford. What are your best memories of those three years?

I would say that the broadcasts on BBC Radio 3 from Queen’s and from St James’ Spanish Place were particular highlights. The choir tours and living in the organ scholar accommodation (with grand piano!) at Oxford I completely took for granted.

On to your second disc which is?

The Young Messiah, or The New Young Messiah either would suit me. These adaptions/arrangements of The Messiah resonate with me for some reason. Don’t get me wrong, give me a good Pinnock recording any day, but Tom Parker’s adaption in the 1980s was bold, daring, and outrageous!

And then to London where you’ve been for some years now.  What was it about London that appealed to you?

It seemed to be the direction in which all my friends were moving! I remember my first London job as organist at Emmanuel Church (West Hampstead), very fondly, and then my second selling ice-creams at the Barbican Centre with slightly less enthusiasm, and then my third as accompanist for SWLCS (back in 2011 or so?!)

Undertaking a freelance career (Covid-19 apart) is quite daunting I imagine.

Indeed - it has taken a lot of adaption, but my key choirs have been incredibly supportive!

Rather sadistically, I enjoy the element of risk that comes with a freelance career. I like having to search for new opportunities and work, and this has certainly been more pronounced during the pandemic.

I have moved all my teaching online and have adapted my method of delivery, building a new website over the last four months: musicwithBen.com. It is in its infancy but I think with more people working from home, many will want to continue with this new way of learning online. I really never expected to be teaching students in Saudi Arabia, Luxembourg, Switzerland, Scotland and of course here in London.

You had a time at St George’s School in Windsor. Did you have any involvement with the royal family whilst you were there?

I taught class music to Lady Louise Windsor, and supported the education of the St George’s choristers. It was a beautiful place to work - but give me a more varied freelance career any day!

What is your third disc and why have you chosen it?

 Rheinberger’s Mass in E flat has always been on my choral hit list. I first encountered it as Master of the Music at Pusey House, Oxford. It was my first professional music job, and the £25 fee per service bought a good few pints of Lamb & Flag Gold just over the road on St Giles.

You’re now working with two London schools. Do you enjoy teaching in school?

I enjoy leading choirs in schools, but don’t consider myself to be particularly gifted classroom music teacher. When I was at Northcote Lodge, my first London teaching job, the highlight of the week for me was the chapel service. Take the xylophones away, lock them in the cupboard and get the Fauré scores out!

Music teaching in the state system seems to be under threat of getting lost.  How do you feel about that?

I think it is a dreadful shame. For me, choirs should be the lifeblood of the school bringing a sense of community and togetherness. Choirs, orchestras, and ensembles bring together all year groups, in a way that no other school activity does, and if these aren’t supported (and adequately funded) professional groups in the future don’t stand a chance.

 Having said that, there are some state schools where the music departments are thriving - even throughout the closure of schools, they have continued to develop marvellously with performances and recitals on Zoom.

So on to your fourth disc.

I feel it might be time for something a little lighter. John Wilson’s: Gershwin in Hollywood. It was said that George Gershwin would strive to write four songs first thing in the morning – to get the bad ones out of his system! Gershwin in Hollywood

You spent some time in Buenos Aires working with students. How was that?

Working in Buenos Aires was excellent! I worked with students on English song at the DAMU: Department for Musicales y sonoras on the Av. Córdoba. We mainly worked on Quilter, Purcell etc, and the students were wonderful, pleasant and keen to learn. It was a joy.

Disc number five – which is?

Reflecting on my trip to Argentina, I discovered the music of Guastavino, and here is one of my very favourite songs! La rosa y el sauce sung by Teresa Berganza.

We are going to stretch a point and allow you one organ on your desert island. Which would it be and why?

That is very generous of you. I’m not quite sure about the practicalities, but it would, without doubt, be the Frobenius at The Queen’s College, Oxford, built in 1965 and set the standard for the classical organ revival in Britain. I think I might officially be an organ bore!

For most of us, music is our relaxation, but given that music is your working life, is there something else you do for relaxation?

In rare breaks from music, I try to get out cycling or head out for a sail with my Dad. He has a Westerley Centaur moored down in Langstone Harbour. We also recently welcomed Wilfred, a gorgeous Cavapoo, to the family. He went for his first sail recently and was dubious at first, but by the end he passed his official sea dog training! Having said that nothing beats a good walk in the Surrey Hills followed by a pub lunch.

Suppose money and size of choir and orchestra were no consideration, what would be the one piece you would most like to conduct?

Gosh, that is a very good question! I think probably Dream of Gerontius or possibly a Verdi Requiem.

And your sixth disc?

 I encountered Mozart’s piano concertos in recordings by Murray Perahia quite early on, so I think their soothing quality requires inclusion here. Perhaps one of the more dramatic numbers, but the D minor can be found here: Mozart Piano Concerto in D minor, K. 466

 You did have short time working on a small island I believe when you visited and worked on Gozo. But I imagine you were well looked after!

Ha, yes, well spotted! The Victoria International Arts Festival based on Gozo, has gathered much momentum in recent years, and I’ve enjoyed visits there over the past few years with organ recitals in St George’s Basilica.

Are you going to be able to feed yourself on this desert island? 

I am a terrible chef, and an even worse fisherman. Necessity being the mother of invention and all that, I suppose I will have to be quite adaptable (especially with no access to Deliveroo!).

We are stretching another point here – what one food would you like us to arrange a limitless supply of?

Oysters, please! But I suppose I could dive for those myself! A rare fillet steak, very well seasoned would be an alternative, or failing that grilled sardines - the large ones you get in Lisbon!

On to disc number seven, which is?

For my finals recital I framed my programme with Bach’s “St Anne” Prelude and Fugue in E flat major BWV 552, and this remains one of my very favourite organ works! The fugue is nicknamed the ‘St Anne’ due to its striking similarity to the hymn tune ‘O God our help in ages past’. Here it is played expertly by Peter Hurford, founder of the St Albans Organ Festival: Bach Prelude and Fugue in E flat

And which wine shall we ship over to you?

Very generous of you! Rioja, or white burgundy, or a wholesome Barolo - nothing too tame! I guess it’s not quite the climate for real ale?

Eighth and final disc, which is?

 So looking back, we’ve had Bach, Mozart, Wagner, Guastavino, Gershwin, Rheinberger, The Messiah.

On the rare occasion when I am trying to exercise, I put on a soul record or Motown, or something upbeat to try and get motivated, so I think my final disc should take me in that direction: Sittin' on the dock of the bay, Otis Redding

If you could only have one disc, which would it be and why?

Oh gosh, I sensed this question was looming. I think I might have to get back to you on that one. Perhaps I’d put them all into a hat and make the decision at random - that’s very noncommittal isn’t it! It would be a very close call between Bach’s ‘St Anne’ and Rheinberger Mass in E flat!

And as well as the Bible and Shakespeare which one book would you choose to be marooned with?

 I hate to admit it but I’m not a very disciplined reader. I’m good at starting books and less effective at finishing them. I love books on entrepreneurialism, marketing and business, and I think that Tim Ferriss’ ‘The 4-hour Work Week’ would suit Island life very well, or some PG Wodehouse or L.P.Hartley ‘The Go-Between’. Forgive me - I know that is too many.

And given that we’ve already been pretty generous and given you an organ to play and limitless amounts of your favourite food and wine, what would be your luxury item on this desert island?

A radio, with magical access to Radio 4! The best way to wake up in the morning.

Thank you Ben, for telling us about your desert island discs.

Thank you for having me, and all my best wishes to SWLCS, hoping we can sing together very soon. I am very grateful for the support of choir members through the last few months - my thanks to all of you!

Andrew Bunbury's "Waffenfreunde" performed by the Cantallini choir

The South West London Choral Society recently gave a performance of “Waffenfreunde”, a piece composed by Andrew Bunbury, who sings in the basses. Here's video of a later performance by the Cantallini Choir with the addition of a cello accompaniment.

Here’s Andrew’s description of the circumstances and motives for the composition:

I was inspired to compose music for John McCrae's In Flanders Fields during a visit to Ypres in 1998.  My grandfather survived four years on the western front and, though he did not speak much of the experience, I was aware of how important it had been in his life and how grateful I was that, despite carrying little pieces of shrapnel in his back for some sixty years, he survived to the great age of ninety-eight and was a much loved and inspirational part of my childhood and early manhood.  My other grandfather never reached the battlefield for he died on a troopship on the way from Australia.

I had to take a second look at my setting of McCrae's poem following the appalling events of 11th September 2001.  It was then that I felt obliged to resuscitate an old notion of combining this setting of a poem in English with a setting in similar mode and mood of a German poem of the same vintage. Edward Lichtenstein's brief and startlingly poignant Abschied, written as early as August 1914 and only seven weeks before his death, seemed to me to be the perfect companion piece.  I made a final revision of the piece in the summer of 2009 following another visit to Ypres that coincided with the death of Harry Patch, believed to be the last survivor of Passchendaele.

Both works are to be sung as part of one piece but each in its original language.  I have linked the poems with deliberately banal marching songs of my own invention, translated into German by my friend, Andrea Seeling, whose inspiration also suggested the title, a made-up word that could be taken to mean "Friends in Arms".  The marching songs are set to the opening bars of the national anthems of two of the main adversaries in the "war to end all wars" (who resumed their conflict just twenty-one years later) and then sung simultaneously, one in quadruple time in one key and the other in triple time in another.

McCrae clearly and accurately foresees his own death – he survived until the war's last year – and calls us to "take up our quarrel with the foe."  For me "the foe" cannot be the hapless infantryman a hundred yards on the other side of "no man's land".  The quarrel must be with the bunkered, blinkered men in suits or turbans (and it's almost always men), invisible in their shock-proof cellars or mountain hideouts, who play with the destinies of those they have never known in pursuit of personal goals, energetically moving coloured pins around maps of distant places indifferent to the human consequences.  There are more mourners than victors after any conflict and bereavement has no respect for frontiers.  This is what I am attempting to demonstrate by linking these two poems – that the death of any of our "enemies" diminishes all of us and that we have more commonality in grief than in any petty triumph.

Waffenfreunde is dedicated to all the worldwide friends we never made because their forebears did not live to beget them or their parents.

Andrew Bunbury

Desert island discs with our conductor, Martin Everett

We hope to be able to return to singing soon, but in the meantime we have asked our conductor Martin Everett about his musical life and his favourite pieces of music.

Hello Martin and thank you for sharing your Desert Island Discs with us.

Hello – I’m happy to have the opportunity to do this. I’ve often wondered what I would choose if I were ever put on the spot, so now’s my chance!

Firstly, how long have you been associated with the SWLCS and what are your earliest memories of your involvement with the choir?

I’ve been professionally involved with the SWLCS since 1969, but both my parents sang in the choir back in the 1950s, when Charles Farncombe was the conductor. My earliest real musical memory is from a dress rehearsal of Britten’s St Nicolas in the old Tooting Central Hall, when I desperately wanted to be the boy who sang ‘God be glorified.’ I must have been about 7 or 8, I think. I suspect it was this experience that eventually led me to become a musician.

Are you a Londoner, born and bred?

Bred, yes, but not born. I was born in Manchester – Didsbury, to be more precise – because my father had moved up there for work. But we moved back when I was 3 and I grew up in New Malden.

Where did you go to school?

In Bath. I went to Kingswood, the Methodist public school, mainly because my grandparents were Methodists and it was a school the family knew about.

And were they the “happiest days of your life”?

Not one bit! I was a complete square peg in a round hole. I wasn’t remotely sporty, so I was well and truly outside the ‘in’ crowd. But the teaching – in French and Music especially – was absolutely brilliant, so I have a lot to be thankful for, even though I hated most of my time there.

Where did you first start playing the organ?

As a child I used to set up my parents’ canteen of cutlery on the dining table, because the knives looked a bit like organ pipes, and I could pretend to be playing! I started organ lessons properly when I passed my Grade V piano, and through a friend of Charles Farncombe I eventually found a teacher in Bristol – a completely mad, Northern Irish Anglo-Catholic (of all things!) – who had studied with André Marchal in Paris.

And what is your first disc and why have you chosen it?

The Northumbrian folk song Blow the Wind Southerly, sung by Kathleen Ferrier. It was one of the very first pieces I ever got to know, from an old 78rpm record my parents had. The way Ferrier sings it is a bit dated, perhaps, but her diction is absolutely impeccable! And it’s rather poignant, because it came up in the very last conversation I had with Judith Crompton, after the final South West rehearsal before the lockdown. There are lots of memories tucked away in this piece, ion other words.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLaaoHuHgmc

And then off to Cambridge to Magdalen College, pronounced how?

MagdalenE (with an E) in Cambridge! Without the final E it’s in the Other Place!! It’s pronounced ‘Maudlin’ whether it’s the Cambridge one or the other one. In Cambridge, the College was re-founded in 1542 by Lord Audley of Audley End in Essex, and dedicated to St Mary Magdalene. The name, however, was often spelled ‘Maudleyn’ at the time, because that spelling incorporated the name of the founder.

What are the duties of an organ scholar?

Essentially, playing the organ for services in the College Chapel. Sometimes it also involves conducting the choir (not at the same time!) and planning a programme of music for services throughout each term. In the larger, more famous chapels (King’s or St John’s, for example) it’s much like being Assistant Organist at a Cathedral. In the smaller chapels, like ours, it often carries much more responsibility, especially if there is no Fellow of the College (i.e. a member of the teaching staff) whose subject is Music.

On to your second disc which is?

I was at school in the 60s, when the first Beatles tracks came out, but I was far too perverse to get drawn into that craze! I found an LP of songs by Françoise Hardy instead (I’ve no idea where it came from) and the song that I used to listen to over & over again was this one, Tous les garçons et les filles de mon age. There was something about her voice that I loved, and it was French, of course – so it had everything! I still love it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSNtL3uuXQA

And after Cambridge you went on to the Royal Academy and had the chance to study in Paris – that must have been quite exciting and you met some interesting people.

I went to the Academy to study conducting and composition. My composition professor was John Gardner, who was also Director of Music at St Paul’s Girls’ School and Morley College (he led a very busy life!) I decided to enter for the Academy’s History of Music Prize, and to write about late 19th and early 20th century French organ music. That was why I went to Paris in the first place. I remember my grandparents being really worried as I set out on my own for what they thought were the fleshpots of Europe!

On that first visit, going round churches trying to get a chance to play any organs I could, I met Guy Morançon, the Director of Music at Notre-Dame-des-Victoires. I asked him to teach me, he agreed, and I spent the next four years going backwards and forwards between London and Paris.

The other person I met on my first visit to Paris was Marie-Madeleine Duruflé, the wife of Maurice Duruflé, the composer of the famous Duruflé Requiem. She introduced me to Alice Tournemire, the really scary, formidable widow of the composer Charles Tournemire, whose music is a kind of missing link between the late 19th century composers and those of the early 2oth, Messiaen in particular. And I met an American academic, Robert Lord, in a café on the left bank; he was studying with Jean Langlais, the successor to both César Franck and Tournemire as organist of Sainte-Clothilde. So I got into the habit of going to Sainte-Clothilde on Sunday mornings, part of a little group of us who were invited up to the organ loft with Langlais, who played me a lot of the repertoire I was researching. He was a simply astonishing improviser – an essential skill if you’re a French church organist. One day he asked me – just 30 seconds before the end of the Mass – to give him a theme for his improvisation. So I did, and he produced a Fantasia and Double Fugue on my theme, then and there, with no possible preparation! Amazing! I really wish I had that skill, but so far it’s been eluding me for about 50 years!

Was that when you turned into a Francophile? What do you especially love about France?

No, not at all – I think I’d been a Francophile ever since I started learning the language at prep school: I simply loved it. I can remember the very first sentence in the first chapter of our French textbook: ‘Monsieur Vendtout vend tout, ou presque tout,’ it said. Then, just before I took my A Levels, I spent the whole summer holiday with a family who lived in Toulouse, with a country house in a tiny fortified village near a place called Revel. It was a real case of total immersion, because none of them spoke even half decent English! But in the next village, Saint-Félix-Lauragais, the church had a superb 18th-century organ. So I went to see the Curé and got permission to go and practice there, and I borrowed a bike so that I could go there as often as possible.

Back in the 1920s the composer Déodat se Séverac had been organist there – we have sung his Tantum Ergo quite often. In 2016 we were in that part of France during the summer and we stayed at Saint-Félix so that I could go and play the organ again – a wonderful trip down memory lane for me (and Harriet is very indulgent when there’s a French organ involved, I’m glad to say!) I think the whole experience of that summer back in the 1960s is what really confirmed my love of France and all things French. What do I love in particular? The language, I suppose, first & foremost; the food, the wine, the music, the architecture, the art, the poetry – it’s really hard to choose! And I adore the accent du Midi, the thick, nasal accent of SW France, which I picked up to such an extent during that fateful summer that one of my teachers couldn’t understand me when I went back to school!

What is your third disc and why have you chosen it?

I couldn’t bear to be without Bach’s St Matthew Passion. The problem is to find a short extract that sums up why I love it so much. In many ways it’s the last chorus that has always spoken most directly to me, especially when I’ve conducted it. It comes partly from a sense of relief to have reached the end of such a long work, partly from a feeling of physical and emotional exhaustion – and then Bach provides this sublimely beautiful chorus which in context is almost too much to cope with.

You had a long period teaching at St Mary’s at Twickenham and Surrey University. And I guess have seen some huge changes in Education during your career. What has been the most exciting and productive change?

I was at St Mary’s for 20 years, working in and around Horace Walpole’s wonderful Gothick house at Strawberry Hill. When I went there it was my absolute dream of a job, so it was a terrible wrench when they decided that the Music Department was too expensive to maintain at a time when cuts in education spending were just beginning. For a few years my time was split between St Mary’s and Surrey University, and it was the Professor of Music at Surrey who first asked me to take on some of his responsibilities with Cambridge A Level Music. I served on the Music Committee of the School Curriculum and Assessment Authority for a long time, approving exam syllabuses from all the A Level and GCSE examining Boards and scrutinising their implementation, overseeing the introduction of the National Curriculum – we had a very wide-ranging remit. I think some of the innovations in public exams in Music during the 1990s were very productive, expecting every candidate to perform, for a start (before 1990 they could do A Level Music without necessarily touching a musical instrument at all!), and especially expecting them all to compose, to use their music as a vehicle for their own creativity.

And the worst?

Ooh, that’s far more controversial! I think the way in which A Level Music in the UK has changed in the last few years has been very worrying. The traditional disciplines of the subject are gradually being eroded, almost to the point of de-skilling a whole generation of students. There’s only one syllabus currently that caters properly for the needs of students of moderate to high ability, and I don’t expect that to survive much longer. It’s very sad to see the things I’ve fought for over decades being thrown away without sufficient thought.

So on to your fourth disc.

The next recording is Wagner, a composer I didn’t discover until I was in my mid-20s. I saw Parsifal first, at Covent Garden and was bowled over by the power of the music; then through the 1970s there was the marvellous ENO production of the Ring with Rita Hunter and Alberto Remedios – still one of the best I’ve ever seen. But it was always Parsifal that drew me back, both in my academic work and in practice. I worked on the Wagner Society’s production of it in 1978; I coached some of the soloists and conducted one of the performances. A few members of the South West came to sing in the chorus, which included singers from all over the place (one of my jobs was to try to mould them into something that sounded like a cohesive chorus!) Again, this is a long work, so finding a short extract is difficult, but I’ve chosen the Transformation (scene change) Music from Act I, which gives a good sense of the almost overwhelming intensity of Wagner’s music. Turn the volume up for this one!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=igvxxJ_qrRo

You still seem pretty busy, especially with your examining work. That seems to take you all over the UK and abroad.

I still do a lot of examining work for Cambridge International Examinations, setting papers, training teachers and examiners, marking scripts, advising on syllabus revisions – there’s a lot of variety. I’ve trained examiners in Singapore and Botswana, and I’ve been to Northern Ireland, Gibraltar and Jersey quite a lot, as well as to Scotland and all over England.

Disc number five – which is?

I can’t be marooned without Handel’s Messiah – a work I’ve lived with for years. It was Charles Farncombe who first sparked my interest in finding out about the early versions of it, and eventually that led me to reconstruct and perform what Handel first put down on paper in the summer of 1741 – a version that he never performed himself, of course, because he started to change and adapt it even before it was first heard. But the process he went through has always fascinated me, creating this huge work in the space of just 3 weeks – it’s extraordinary. Here is one of my favourite sections – the series of three choruses from Part II (Surely, And with his stripes and All we like sheep), not quite performed as I like it, but pretty close…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sEGympB8Tx4

We are going to stretch a point and allow you one organ on your desert island. Which would it be and why?

No hesitation at all: the Grand Organ of Saint-Omer Cathedral – of course, you’d have to include the Cathedral as well, because the organ can’t be left out in the open! It has all the most up-to-date technology of the 1850s, so it’s a brute of an instrument to play by modern standards, but the sound is just wonderful: the great French organ builder Cavaillé-Coll, early in his career, restored and rebuilt it in 1855, but using a lot of pipes from the earlier instrument of 1719. I think it’s my favourite instrument in the entire world!

For many of us, music is our relaxation, but given that music seems to be such a large chunk of your working life, is there something else you do for relaxation?

You’re right, of course: music has always taken up a lot of my time. When I was applying to University I could have chosen to read Modern Languages, and I sometimes think it might have been nicer to have kept music as a hobby. But it turned out the other way round! So my favourite spare-time activity is keeping up my French. I’m a keen amateur photographer, too, especially when I’m away from home. I love travel, experiencing new places and trying to understand their culture. Harriet and I had our honeymoon in Bali, for example: it was marvellously exotic, the people were really friendly and it made a huge impression. I’d love to go back, if I had the opportunity.

Suppose money and size of choir and orchestra were no object, what would be the one piece you would like to conduct which you have not so far been able to?

There are so many pieces that it’s hard to choose! There are still lots of Michael Haydn pieces to explore – his Mass settings especially; there are the big works like the Verdi Requiem (the only Verdi piece I really like – I’ve got a real blind spot when it comes to his operas!); there’s Berlioz, the Grand’messe des morts or the Damnation of Faust, neither of which I’ve done. But I think I would actually choose Beethoven – the 9th Symphony. It’s the only Beethoven symphony that I’ve never conducted: the nearest I got was training a choir to do the last movement (all those top As for the sopranos!!) for a concert that was conducted by Maxim Shostakovich. It was a case of “Nearly, but not quite…!”

And your sixth disc?

This is a brief extract from another opera, this time by a composer of the mid-19th century who never receives anything like the recognition he deserves. This comes from Le Prophète, one of the four French Grand Operas by Giacomo Meyerbeer. He was German by birth but worked in Italy for several years (and started calling himself by the Italian version of his first name while he was there), and then went to Paris, where he became the most successful composer of vast, five-act operas that were the equivalent of the Hollywood spectaculars of a century later. So here is the American Mezzo-Soprano Marlyn Horne, a singer with a quite extraordinary voice and a simply enormous range, singing one of Meyerbeer’s most demanding arias. This is virtuoso singing at its very finest.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIhvuoDdKYw&list=OLAK5uy_kVNXNDq-51523S6XNTSDcfgagVO15ceGQ&index=53&t=0s

Are you going to be able to feed yourself on this desert island?

I can cook reasonably well, if that’s what you mean! But catching the food – hunting or fishing – would be a major challenge. Of course, if you could provide a fully-stocked supermarket just around that headland over there, I’d be fine…

We are stretching another point here – what one food would you like us to arrange a limitless supply of?

Singapore Noodles – oddly enough, in my favourite Chinese restaurant in Singapore they always used to call them Hong Kong Noodles, but that has changed recently. Spicy, but not too hot, pieces of pork & chicken, a bit of omelette, some prawns and thin rice noodles: perfection! And there’s so much variety in it that I think it would take a long time before I got tired of it.

On to disc number seven, which is?

This is Poulenc, a composer I’ve always loved for his strange mixture of joy and melancholy, the profound and the flippant. This is his Organ Concerto, recorded in 1961 by Maurice Duruflé on the organ of Saint-Étienne-du-Mont in Paris (which coincidentally was where I met Madame Duruflé a few years later). This piece has lots of memories for me: it was one of the pieces on the first set of CDs I gave to Harriet when we were first together; and I recall playing it myself a long time ago in Sutton, when the timpani were in competition with a dramatic thunder storm that broke out when we were about half way through!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bF0e9CSQNXQ

And which wine shall we ship over to you?

It has to be white; reds give me a sore head these days (unless they’re so good that I can’t afford them!). French or Italian, moderately dry; a cold Chablis, perhaps, or a Macon Villages, or something from the Loire, I’m not that fussy – but definitely not from the New World!

And now you and Harriet are settled in Cambridgeshire and clearly from the amount of produce you arrive with in the Autumn, you must have quite a big garden. Who does the gardening?

We’ve got a bit under a quarter of an acre – far too much to look after on our own! We have some help from a friend in the village; I deal with the roses (strictly old-fashioned ones!), Harriet grows tomatoes in the greenhouse. So it’s a joint effort. We have a lot of trees, including a big oak, a horse chestnut, a maple, a walnut and lots of apples and plums. We had our big Bramley cooker pruned this year, though, so there won’t be much on that for a season or two!

Our house is right at one end of a village, at the top of what counts as a hill in Cambridgeshire (all of 150 feet above sea level!) so we have some fabulous views. We can see a good 15–20 miles from the front windows upstairs and at the back we look out onto the fields, so it feels as if we’ve got a lot more space than just the garden. It’s quite a contrast from Balham!

And village life suits you both?

We’re very lucky to have found a really lovely, small village where we’ve made a lot of friends. There’s an amazing sense of community, which has been a huge advantage during the lockdown. We love it, and we’re planning to stay put!

Eighth and final disc, which is?

Some of my choices have been a bit melancholy, perhaps, so I’ll need something to cheer me up when I feel a bit low. There’s no composer better than Haydn for that, and I’m going to choose Symphony No. 60. It was originally written as incidental music for a play about an elderly, absent-minded gentleman, and Haydn responded by playing around with all the usual expectations of what a symphony ought to be. It goes into the wrong keys at the wrong times and he plays around with the form, but he saves up one of the best jokes until the very last movement – just listen to this:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JG2yzH1kxt8

The whole symphony is a delight – well worth getting to know if you don’t already. It’s such gentle humour, but done with consummate skill – I love it!!

If you could only have one disc, which would it be and why?

It would have to be Parsifal – that has been top of my list for decades. I know Wagner is a highly controversial figure, and a lot of things about him are absolutely abhorrent, but wicked people sometimes are very great artists. For me, Parsifal is one of the pinnacles of Western civilisation. It’s one of those pieces where you notice something new every time you hear it, often some tiny little detail that helps you to understand it better. So, if I could have only one piece of music for the rest of my time on the island, that would be it.

And as well as the Bible and Shakespeare which one book would you choose to be marooned with?  And given that we’ve already been pretty generous and given you an organ to play and limitless amounts of your favourite food, what would be your luxury item on this desert island?

I think I would probably choose an anthology of my favourite poetry. If I’m allowed to be more specific, I’d like it to include the complete Psalms in the Grail translation, together with all of Yeats and Housman and a comprehensive selection of English lyric poetry of all periods. Then I would have a lot to read and to think about, and I’d have a ready supply of texts to set to music as well.

For my Luxury – well, I need a good 6 hours of solid sleep if I’m to function properly – a bit more if I can get it. I’m a night owl rather than a sparrow, so I do go to bed quite late, but then I like to be sure that I can go off to sleep as easily as possible. So I’d like a really comfortable bed, please, to make that possible even in my isolation.

Our diamond jubilee concert programme… from 1946!

Recently found in a second-hand bookshop: a copy of the programme from the sixtieth anniversary concert given by the South West London Choral Society back in November 1946.

It’s a fascinating window into the history of the choir that reveals much about the choral society’s origins.

The typography has a definite art deco influence while the formal, respectful language is very much from a different age.

The concert begins with a no doubt stirring performance of “God Save the King” followed by Mendelssohn’s “Hymn of Praise”. The remainder of the first half featured Mendelssohn’s “Symphonia cantata“, while the second half of the concert included Palestrina’s “Surge Illuminare” and songs by Mary Hamlin and John Turner.

The rousing finale was a performance of Parry’s “Blest Pair of Sirens” which the modern incarnation of the choir have performed in recent years.

The venue was the Methodist Central Hall on Mitcham Lane in Tooting, a grand theatre which had been recently renovated after wartime bomb damage. The building was eventually demolished for a Marks and Spencer store in 1967, though it now hosts a Primark store.

Download the full programme (PDF, 2MB)