“Can I talk to you whilst you are playing?…”

Having played the organ in various churches, I sympathise with this and could almost have written it myself.

St Mary's Organist

(The following tale has been factually enhanced, but is based upon many true life events. Any resemblance to real people, either living or otherwise, is however entirely co-incidental).

When asked what is actually like ‘playing the organ’, I often struggle to find an analogy. But I shall use this one which grew via a FaceBook stream, (thank you to all those contributors!).

Playing the organ can be rather like driving a hired left-hand driven car with bald tyres, in a foreign country, without a satnav, in the snow, at nightime without lights or functioning windscreen wipers. The children are in the back seat, with their own private agendas, which could include any combination from a menu including a full nappy, a toy car emitting a cycle of repeated vile electronic siren noises, an empty stomach, a full bladder, requests for the umpteenth repeat of “the wheels on the bus”


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