And The Angels Sang

After the rehearsal of the Mousehole Male Voice Choir two weeks ago, I was wild to go again. We were invited, but getting there would be complicated. Buses are great but if you miss the last bus down the hill, it is a long dark trek back to civilization.

But we needn't have worried, for the excellent Tony came through and found us a ride. "M will collect you at the Royal Cinema at 6:30pm," he said. "Be ready to jump right in, though, because the cars in St Ives don't wait."

'M' duly collected us in his SUV, and we scrambled inside for what turned out to be a very civilized ride. I have been the passenger in other cars for these 9.2 miles, and not all of them have been so sedate. The lanes are narrow, the space for two cars minimal, and if it is raining, you might just as well go straight to prayer. 

But last night it did not rain, and M drove his car with scrupulous safety. He is owner and operator of a fisheries business, well-known in Cornwall, and had lots of specialized information we found fascinating. The subject of Pilchards came up, and M said that Pilchards were at first appreciated by some, but once they were rebranded into 'Cornish Sardines', the demand shot up and he was a happy man.

"Sardines?" my sister piped. "My husband brought 2 tins of sardines on the plane from America, because he was afraid there wouldn't be any here!" 

"What??" M said, much impressed. "You brought them all this way? Amazing!" 

The conversation picked up speed as my sister continued the theme of fish. "We purchased sea bass the other day from the outdoor seafood shop on the Harbour."

"I provide the fish for that shop!" he exclaimed. "The fish you had for dinner came out of our plant not far from here. If you look at the packaging, you will see my name." It was our turn to be impressed. 

"Wow," I breathed.

"Where are you three staying in St Ives?" he asked with interest.

We named the cottage and its location.

"What!?" he said again. "I was born into that house! We had it decades ago when it really was a fisherman's house. There were 10 of us in there - Granny, aunties, cousins, parents, kids - everybody who counted.

Good grief, we were riding in his car, staying in his house, and eating his fish! 

"Do you want to come and see the house?" I offered. "It would be interesting for you to see what these owners have done with it.." But we had reached our destination, and piled out of the car. Around us were Cornish men, standing outside the church where they rehearse, laughing in Cornish (there is a pub across from the church, and a few had already stepped discreetly in).

Some recognized me, their 'American roadie', and came up to say "Good to have you back, my Lovlie," or, "'Allo! Y'alright?" Yes. I was very definitely 'alright', standing in this group who had missed more than a year of rehearsals and concerts, thankful to be at it again.

To us, the rehearsal felt more like a performance with only a few lucky observers. Steven, as usual, directed them fabulously, and as usual, none of the roadies understood a word. But all of the songs gave me the shivers:

How Great Thou Art

Abide With Me

Oh Love That Wilt Not Let Me Go

And The Angels Sang

Lay Up Your Treasures in Heaven

Music makes me Happy, and

As I Went Down To The River To Pray.

We listened, and with the first 4-part harmonies coming out of that group of voices, we, and they, were back home. The time sped by, and as we were climbing back into his car, M said, "Y'alright?"

And yes, I was - very definitely, 'alright'.

See you along the way!

the SconeLady