Sunday, the 10th of August, 2014

Today, my organ practice regime commenced again with the aim of reaching cathedral standard. A mere half hour walk from my new house, the church where I had practised in my younger days remained as tall and proud as ever. Although when I was a student I was a choral scholar in the rival church, many of my friends held scholarships here, and I was always welcome to practice the organ when I needed it. A short walk again from the main market square, I paused at the churchyard gate. I looked at the central tower, and walked towards the porch, ventured in and slowly pushed open the heavy iron doors.

As I entered the vast airy church, I did my old habit of turning right, walking a few hundred meters and passed through the doorway to the lady chapel of where the organ perches precariously above. I asked a verger for the key to the small door to the organ loft, I turned the key and ventured up the narrow spiral stair-case. I came out onto the cluttered landing where the old organ used to sit, and turned left up a steep but small ladder to the new organ; upon which I came out onto a small balcony. This I was quickly reminded was unsettlingly small and seemingly suspended in mid air, the church floor a good 40 foot below. I powered up the beast and began to play. For a good few hours I sat and played, playing quiet romantic pieces right through to the big bold pieces which resounded through the columns and aisles in the church. My fingers quickly remembered their old ways and in no time I was playing the pieces I had played in my youth.

The final piece I played was my fastest, and by no means the quietest. With the pedals booming away underneath the rapid flourishes of notes produced by my hands, I was awed by the sheer versatility and power that this instrument offered, and when I played my last chord, the notes rang through the church, a dying testament to the glory I had produced only moments before. So I sat on the bench for a while, taking in the stained glass, the ceiling and stonework that had been so tirelessly carved and sculpted centuries before - I had once again found my old home. The church.