In the Mists of Time.

Back all those years ago at King's no one ever got to hear us practice privately. I suppose we never questioned it at the time but in my cynical middle age-or is it paranoid-it sometimes crosses my mind that they might have seen things they were not supposed to have seen.

There were to my recollection only 4 exceptions to this. Stephen Cleobury just before he took over in 1983, a man from the Indian subcontinent whose name I never knew, Princess Margaret, and the composer Herbert Howells. I well recall the last 2 on that list. How could one forget Princess Margaret? She was deeply religious despite her play girl image and she sat quietly in contemplation and concentration as we sang. And Howells. It was shortly before his death in 1983.

Tonight I have been revisiting the music of Howells. It is sublime stuff. I never recorded any of his music and this recording which came in the post today goes back to the 1960s. The Collegium Regale written for the choir both morning and evening services. Many years later I almost sang the tenor solo in the Nunc Dimittis in Chartres Cathedral but lacked the confidence in my floored mental state to pull it off alone. Yes that fateful trip on which the psychosis hit its highest point. And the terrifyingly hard Take Him Earth for Cherishing has also been part of my listening experience tonight.

The past seems so long ago yet so close. Do I still bear the scars? Probably. But to touch greatness even if it once in one's life is indeed a rare thing. It was collective greatness not mine alone.

All this on a day that has been all fits and starts. I don't like it when plans don't work. Tonight's plan will I hope be enacted tomorrow. For now it is that sublime music. We never reached the heights of our predecessors but we were pretty good!

I Heard a Voice.