Dublin Day 2

Posted on 06.1.08

What a strange feeling waking up on a choir trip with no hangover! I feel a bit like I’m cheating.

Another glorious day; those of us of an optimistic disposition are thankful (smug?) we packed shorts and sandals. The coach takes us direct to the cathedral bright and early, in time to start rehearsing at 10. We’re singing music which is, to me at least, a healthy mix of new/old, approachable/challenging.

The Gabrielli mass, for example was new to me (you can imagine my delight when David assigned the Benedictus to a quartet then asked us sing it at sight to the rest of the choir :-p )

Evensong today is Buxtehude Magnificat, Holst Nunc, some Schutz I don’t much care for and is in kraut so can’t remember the name, and Howells responses. The splitting of the canticles over two works/composers makes that feel a longer list than normal and it’s the latter item that’s going to stretch us.

I’ve done the Howells responses only once before, that was ten years ago. Now I know why: they’re rock hard! Even the cantor parts require an extremely on-the-ball singer (thankfully we had Mr Bacon at the helm). By the afternoon, we had them almost nailed and they’ll be fine for Sunday. Impressive work.

At lunchtime we found our way to the Porterhouse on Parliament Street which appears to be the only place in Dublin to get real ale. Worth the expedition though — for both the ales and the food. Best burgers most of us have had since our last visit to GBK. Lovely layout too, lots of levels.

All in all a good evensong, though there’s something about Latin canticles and a German anthem that leaves me a little lukewarm. Perhaps it just detracts from the quintessentially English nature of choral evensong.

Tim being force-fed beer. I hate that. Saturday evening was lighter on gastronomic quality (Richard could nearly turn his plate on its side without the gravy moving) but high on ‘craic‘. At the Brazen Hussy after evensong, Sue made yours truly sink a pint of (very fizzy) Paulaner and later doing a similar thing with Ian a la the Whose Line is it Anyway “helping hands” routine. There was also some man-love but the less about that the better.

Ian. Old age necessitates a helping hand with a pint. We persuaded the coach to take us back a little earlier and were able to enjoy the dying minutes of the balmy day sat out on the lawn and enjoying some final Sols/whiskey/whatever’s your poison.