The River’s Tale Friday morning started, as usual for me, with Matins. Andy and I stayed for Mass after; it was in the Lady chapel, for one thing, and

Friday morning started, as usual for me, with Matins. Andy and I stayed for Mass after; it was in the Lady chapel, for one thing, and I’d decided I would at least attend Mass that day as a way of honoring my friend and fellow parishioner George’s life, even though I couldn’t be home for his funeral. The Dean was celebrant, and during the intercessions he particularly gave thanks for the gift of music we had shared with them during our week, and prayed for safe travel for those departing and for those arriving.

I should mention that he had made a point of speaking to Andy or to me more than once in the mornings, and thanked us for our music-making. I had been a bit afraid that we’d be seen as the rude American cousins, tromping in with our 20^th-century settings and our spirituals and our dissonances, and stepping all over centuries of tradition, but everyone was very gracious and warm and welcoming. I think David may have been a bit nervous of us at first – but considering we were a substitute that got dropped in at virtually the last minute, without having gone through the usual process, he warmed up to us quite nicely by the end.

After Matins and Mass and breakfast – time to plan the day! We had the whole of Friday and Saturday at liberty – no rehearsals, no services to attend unless we wanted to, no group dinners. Several of us made our way off to the Canterbury Punting Company, for a river tour by boat. Aside from the usual challenge of narrow steps, and the unusual challenge of getting into a wide flat boat on a river, this was quite lovely. It was sunny and cool; there was a pleasant breeze; we got to see a different view of some of the same territory Andy and I had covered on foot on Wednesday while walking to the Miller’s Arms. Given the challenges to grace that entering and exiting the boat presented, however – we made the man with the camera get out first when we got back.

We wandered then in search of lunch. The first promising-looking place we came to, the Beer Cart Inn, was only open for dinner. The second – the Old Brewery Tavern – was open but lunch service didn’t start for another half hour when we wandered in. So we backtracked just a little, and took in the Canterbury Museum.

This is housed in the Poor Priests’ Hospital, where pilgrims used to be housed, and contains exhibits that basically take you from the earliest pre-Roman founding of the settlement up to the present day (or nearly), culminating in the Rupert Bear museum. There are quite a few things specifically designed to appeal to younger people – activities to engage in, and “find this in the picture above” games to engage them more actively than simply looking at old things in glass cases.

By the time we’d wandered all the way through, the Old Brewery Tavern was quite ready to serve lunch, so we had a lovely lunch and a pint there before heading back toward the cathedral. Upon our return, I set to work to wash out a couple of skirts that had gotten spotted, and then took a bit of a nap before heading over to Evensong to hear the incoming choir. They were the Vasari Singers, based in London but from all over; actually very similar to us in some ways – but they’re thirty this year, while Schola is just turned fifteen.

They have been here before also, and there were enough of them to fill both sides of the choir, which made their procession much simpler to manage. I note, with a bit of schadenfreude, that there were a couple processional bobbles; so even an experienced choir that’s been there before makes the occasional mistake.

Musically, they were magnificent – soaring sopranos, deeply grounded men’s sound; occasionally it was almost like an organ stop, the sound was so smooth and so well coordinated. It didn’t do any harm that the music they were doing was amazing – the service setting was Byrd, the canticles were by Weelkes, and the anthem was 'O clap your hands' by Orlando Gibbons. Sigh.

When I returned to the library after Evensong, I met a new friend – Jo Smith, of Southwark, who was up for a quick one-day visit. We got to chatting; several other Schola folk wandered in and joined the conversation; and eventually, when we decided to head out for dinner, we swept Jo up and along with us, out Christ Church Gate and across to Strada.

It is at this point that I should probably mention the wedding. We had noted on the Fortnightly Service Sheet that there was to be a wedding on Saturday at 1:00 in the Quire. We’d seen the service bulletin in the vestry chapel on Thursday evening; I was delighted to note that the bride’s name was Hermione (although her maiden name was not Grainger, nor was her married name to be Weasley). As it turned out – the rehearsal dinner was taking place directly behind us at the restaurant. This is the sort of thing you simply can’t plan for; you just have to be watchful and ready to spot it when it falls into your lap.

Not much else to tell for Friday; we finished up dinner and wandered back in through Christ Church Gate and up to bed.