My nephew, now in his mid-teens, spent many years as a chorister in a super-flash choir. From the age of 8 to 13 he attended a school attached to the choir, (this is how flash it is - it had its own school), and spent a lot of his time between those ages, just singing.
He had singing lessons and many rehearsals and every single day, except Monday and Wednesday, he sang at Evensong. He got home most nights at 7.30pm.
“I had to do this aria once,” Paddy - that’s my nephew - told me last weekend at lunch, “and it was so long.” He pinched his fingers out to denote the thickness of the music manuscript pages. “I was pretty scared beforehand and I puked.”
“You puked!” I said.
“Yeah,” he said ruefully. “But once I’d got started, it was pretty fun.”
When you weren’t puking, it must have been very boring, I said. Always hanging about in rehearsals and sitting through those endless church sermons. Two of those long hauls in church a year is my limit.
Yes, sometimes it was dull, he agreed. The choirboys played games - something called “sticks”, where one boy holds out his forefingers and then the other boy does something with his fingers and you score points somehow. I am familiar with this game, my son has tried to explain this to me but I’m baffled as to how it works. There was another game, says Paddy, where during the sermon the boys try to identify words beginning with all the letters of the alphabet. I’m sure in a tight spot you have to find ways to pass the time however you can.
The choir was always busy, says Paddy, but Christmas, “Christmas was always a beast,” he says. There were carol concerts and just many multitudes of singing praises, including the famous Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. You will know this one well: it’s the one they broadcast on Radio 4 on Christmas Eve, which is tomorrow! This year it is at 1500, from the choir of King’s College, Cambridge. For many people, this is the starting gun on present-wrapping.
It opens with the church lit only by candlelight. The first hymn is Once in Royal David’s City, and the first part is sung as an acapella solo by a single choirboy. Even typing that makes me feel a bit tearful. Poor little mite! It is not the same poor scrap that has to do it every time. I heard a rumour, even, that the choirmaster nods at one of two teed-up boys just seconds before the chorister is due to open his mouth for the first “O”.
I was fascinated by this. How can the boy who is nodded at be sure that the choirmaster meant him and not the other one? Are they sitting at opposite ends of a bench or what?
“That’s not how we did it,” says Paddy. “But yes, you don’t know who is actually going to do it until just before.” How much time do they give you? Paddy closes one eye and scrunches up his face. “About thirty seconds? My choirmaster would come up to you and say ‘You’re on.’” How unbelievably terrifying, I said. “Yeah a bit,” said Paddy. “But if you know you’re one of the ones who might do it, you just sort of want to get on with it. Whoever does it is more than capable. Really, it’s fine.”
He saw the look on my face, visualising the horror of being tapped on the shoulder and told to sing. Like a bad cheese dream. He said, “And also, you know, it’s a massive privilege.”
I don’t know if he’s learnt over the years to say that or what. But, whatever. He’s a very good boy.
So if you’re listening to Nine Lessons and Carols this Christmas Eve and your heart is in your mouth for that poor kid just remember: it’s alright, he doesn’t mind. Just be grateful it’s not you.
And Merry Christmas from everyone The Spike (i.e. me). See you next year.
x
I’m always fascinated by the unique courage expected of quite young children at big events like, say, the coronation, so interesting to hear the other side of it. Merry Christmas everyone, and thanks for another year of shared thoughts and recipes Esther x
I usually save my newsletter for a quiet moment, no I’m not on the loo! It’s Christmas Eve morning I’m up before everyone , got the tree lights on and waiting for my dad to deliver a bag of pinched holly and a Christmas cake (made not stolen or should I say stollen) this was the perfect read as always. I’ll be listening at 3pm with even more appreciation and slight trepidation and probably a glass of bubbles whilst peeling carrots . Merry Christmas fellow spikers x