That old ‘Popes in a mini’ chestnut

Or, ‘what I did today by me, aged 31 and a half’.

*Clap**Clap**Clap* [in the manner of a school teacher leading a school trip]
Okay Gentlemen… GENTLEMEN. Thank you…
Okay Gentlemen, now we’re going to be lining up outside the Cathedral entrance in a few minutes. Cardinals first, then Bishops two-by-two… So, if you could all finish your teas and biscuits and make your way out. Thank you.

This was all I could hear in the basement of the cathedral. I wasn’t expecting to, but at the time we were attempting to take the world record for the most number of priests and musicians squashed into a loo which necessitated keeping the door open. To the room you understand, not the cubicle. They’re priests you know.

Joking aside, today was a really poignant performance. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve played concert performances of Requiems, but as a classical musician rather than an organist, you very rarely get the opportunity to perform them as they were intended: at a funeral. Performing the arpeggio rise and falls of Faure’s Agnus Dei take on an entirely new depth when you’re watching 80 Bishops paying their respects to a departed colleague, whose crook and gown are laid across his casket.

As musicians we take Requiems for granted. Yes, they’re nearly all amazing pieces, very moving. But they were written for an occasion like this, and we don’t get the opportunity to perform them in this setting very often.