And Wept.

There were tears. There always are on Good Friday. I defy anyone with compassion and focus not to be thus moved by Lotti's Crucifixus. So too the Miserere. A stunning Renaissance recreation of the darkest day in the Christian calendar on which Christ was crucified. The death of a man, a prophet and to many of us believe the Son of God.

Every Easter between 1980 and 1993 I sang either here or abroad. The lone exception was in 1984 when against my interest, will and desire I was packed off on a French exchange which I loathed from start to finish. The music of Easter stuns me even now.

This afternoon I listened and wept. Not that I am religious but I have emotion, a knowledge of music and an understanding of some of the suffering of the world. Is it any wonder people believe in a Divine whatever or whoever that may be? Hard to explain away death, suffering, plague and pestilence otherwise.

The story of course has a triumphant ending with resurrection on the third day and the salvation of Christians across this chaotic and confusing world. I mischievously lifted the quote from the Creed in A Pillar of Impotence. Passus et Sepultus Est at my breakdown, Et Resurrexit to mark my eventual recovery when I found Risperidone.

For me it is good to have a break. I miss the hot cross buns mum made and the Simnel cake. I'm not a baker. I won't be eating fish tonight as is required on Good Friday, couldn't get any. But my adventures of a culinary nature will go on.

I will miss my Easter lunch when I invite my friends, serve champagne, crab or smoked salmon starters and a glorious roast. Instead I will dine alone on turkey breast seasoned with thyme and wrapped in bacon. A bottle of Sauvignon Blanc is chilling in the fridge. And cheese awaits for dessert.

In all probability I will come on here again to wish you all a Happy Easter on Sunday. Take care and enjoy the sun if you can.

I Heard a Voice.