I was fired ignominiously from the Junior School Choir for being so off tune that the choir mistress declared she couldn't even bear to have me mime.

The devil was always in the detail. And here the detail was certainly devilish.

He finds himself bored by the shenanigans of highly spirited young men. Their concerns reside somewhere between balder and dash.

I like you in green,’ he said. ‘You look as if you’re a very beautiful imp.’


Can I fetch you something, madam? A cup of tea?’
In the old days she’d have been ‘miss’ and he’d have offered her a cocktail.

Then the singing enveloped me. It was furry and resonant, coming from everyone's very heart. There was no sense of performance or judgment, only that the music was breath and food.