It all went off without a hitch. I played some really quiet introductory voluntaries so that I could enjoy listening to the sneezing that was going on in the vestry. I had had another brainwave in the night. Rather than tell Antony myself, I asked Priestess Gwen if she would, since I would probably be playing the organ when he arrived, and she fell for it. He was still sneezing when he slunk into his choirstall via the back corridor, rather than risk processing in in his unctuous way. He didn’t do a solo, not even his favourite Mendelssohn pigeon song, being too busy sneezing. I don’t think I played a single wrong note in any of the hymns, and my recessional voluntary was the one in E minor that starts fff and continues in much the same triumphant vein for three whole pages, and I don’t think I hit a single wrong note in that either, although it is hard to tell in such a noisy piece.
Mum is very suspicious, I can tell, but I cooked us a late breakfast, humming innocently as I did so, and the fried eggs, sausages, bacon and tinned tomatoes were perfect and absolutely delicious. Even mum admitted, albeit grudgingly, that it was quite nice.
Tra-la-la. What a jolly day.
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