We had enough people to manage O Nata Lux by Tallis, for a change. I take the middle part, the one I know best, hiding between the alto and the tenor. We all weave our own melodies into swathes of harmony. Nos membra confer effici, tui beati corporis.
If I believe in anything it is the shape of things, the patterns, the structure. When we sing Bruckner's Locus Iste someone comments on the inapplicability of the words to the cosy sitting room in which we are singing. "Is not this sitting room," I begin, "as much as any church...", but I lose momentum as I can't decide whether I'm being ironic or not, and the protest is lost among conversation.
Exchanged news and vague must-do-lunches with a couple of people. At the end, everybody goes their own ways into the night. I feel as though I am always driving home from somewhere in the dark, and struggling to remember which one of these staging-posts is "home".