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After what has seemed like forever caressing the notes and working frenetically with many different choirs it all came together last night for the Parliament Choir’s performance of the Verdi Requiem in Westminster Cathedral.  Directed by Simon Over and accompanied by Southbank Sinfonia, our performers were in stunning form, and the Dies Irae, in particular, was genuinely thrilling.  A shame that some singers got just a touch frisky in the Libera Me fugue (when will some people ever start to watch the conductor, I wonder?), but it did not take the shine off a superb evening.

Barely three hours after the final notes of the concert I was back in Somerset, leaving this

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for this:

That’s “The Tower” in Colliers Wood up top, by the way, a place so bereft of beauty that even its name is desolately functional.  It sits decaying outside what was my tube stop, and I cannot say that I miss it much.

I got home to find some red wine still in the bottle, an invitation to the London Oratory School’s carol service in the post (including a performance of Sweet Was The Song) and all well in my rural retreat.  Today I am exploring Wells, a little down time before I get back onto the Carta Cantata and associated endeavours with a vengeance.  Like the Parliament Choir itself, there is not much time to relax, for our next concert is on Wednesday, including The Angel Gabriel, It Came Upon The Midnight Clear and awhile awandering.  The Christmas Day radio broadcast awaits, too.

For a first taster of what my life henceforth will be like, I have to say that the past few days have been encouraging.  I even lost a little weight as I scurried around the capital, which was an unexpected bonus.

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