The choir in which I sing gave a concert at a local hilltop village the other night. Like trembling crack fiends, three of us hard core drinkers huddle in the apse, right behind the altar, as the local Mayor welcomes the choir and addresses the gently snoring audience with a lightning 45 minute speech. We hold our glasses out in gentle supplication as Emilio opens a bottle of his home-made grappa and dispenses what is known as the acqua del coro, the blessed choir water that warms the throat and braces the vocal chords. The suitably cobwebbed and crucifixed Romanish backdrop adds to the sense of delicious sin. And, of course, as an Anglican my sense of pleasure soars heavenwards.
8 comments:
All fingers and thumbs eh - I can sense the feverish anticipation as the polistyrene cups desperately try to hang on , limpet-like, to the safety of the little plastic sock that is home - concerned outbursts - "let me try" - "come on, quick, pass me one" - "let me get that" - all the while keeping an eye on the puny bottle to make sure fair distribution is the order of the day. All this tension and not even knowing - "how long have we got ?" someone keeping cave at the door ..... Too much for me
We in the One True Church wouldn't consider that to be a sin,more de rigeur.In a few weeks we shall celebrate Midnight Mass with all its attendant mystery and anticipation. Oh and there'll be the drunks piling in at the back fresh from the boozer. A fight broke out one year. No, you Prods shouldn't be so hard on ypurselves. I blame Luther, Calvin and Wesley and whoever else you lot are stupid enough to listen to.
Great photo though Ron. I have to hand it to you, you certainly have a flair for the old photograghy and not a shake of the lens in sight.
Speaking of photos, Peter has a serious beard situation going on doesn't he?
Oh Cindy. I've only grown the beard 'cos it's Easter. I'll rip it off on Boxing Day. And being a brought up a Strict Baptist I didn't know what proper drink was until I was seventeen and found a bottle of communion wine underneath the pulpit. With the brand name Vino Sacro. So your references to Calvin and Luther hit the right note with me. Most people these days would think they were a dodgy advertising agency.
Interestingly enough, I reckon that might be our Giulio struggling with the polystyrene cups, Ron's obviously clipped the shot to avoid the only too recognisable anticipation on his face as best imagined on one fumbling with a tricky bra strap - what pleaures to unfold........... bit like christmas really.
Thank heavens for that Peter, for a minute i thought you were in ZZ Top.
Diplomat, you've hit the nail on the head with Ron. I can just see that face now, like an eager puppy.
Speaking of Ron, he's very quiet isn't he? He;s probably in his shed flagellating himself. Now there's a thought too frightening to contemplate.
Him and Giulio both - what a pair of puppies !
You can say what you like but you can't beat a good flagellation. In your shed.
You lot must be dying of thirst - Giulio still hasn't opened the bloody styrofoam - Is the Mayor's speach over yet ?
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