Drama after Mass!

We took our friends, visiting from Germany, to a concert in the Sheldonian Theatre in Oxford.

The Mass in question has the Latin title Missa in angustiis, which could be translated as Mass in Time of Anguish. It was composed by Haydn, and is more commonly known as the Nelson Mass. This is a wonderful choral work.

But you will find that there is Anguish as well as Music in this tale...

First the music.

This was an all Haydn evening, with a piano concerto and Symphony No 104 preceding the Nelson Mass. The conductor (and pianist in the concerto) was András Schiff, and the orchestra was the Oxford Philomusica, which is these days an excellent ensemble. Both of the works were given undoubtedly fine performances, and I was particularly taken by the vigour of the London Symphony, and the splendid woodwind playing in it, and I would not want to forget the virtuoso timpani work.

But, without question, the high point of the evening was the performance of the Nelson Mass. The choir was that of my own college (formally the Christ Church Cathedral Choir), and it is one of the world-leading exponents of the kind of choral singing needed for the Haydn.

The all-male composition of the choir gives the singing a certain edge and special quality, and the boys' voices have a sound all of their own. The young choristers perform with precision, attack and true musicianship. The soloists, too, were really good.

I judge the performance one of the best I have ever heard of a choral work, and certainly of a live performance of the Nelson. A wonderful evening of top-quality music and execution.

In our photograph here, the conductor, orchestra, soloists (and perhaps his choir) applaud our Director of Music, Stephen Darlington, half of whom can be seen approaching on the very far right of the picture. He acted, of course, as "Chorus Master" for this performance, having trained and rehearsed the choir.

Now the Anguish!

We were seated at the very top of the Sheldonian Theatre. After the applause died down, we started to make our way to the exit. There are rows of bench seats, spaced about 0.75 metres above each other. I must have misjudged a footstep or a distance, and thinking I was putting my left foot on the floor of the row below, I actually found there was nothing there but thin air.

I tumbled right over, and then rolled five or six rows down, meaning that I fell perhaps 4 metres or more. There is nothing between the bench rows, of course, to break such a fall. To give you an idae of what was involved, I have marked this photograph with arrows that show the starting and finishing positions of my descent. This picture, by the way, is from a different concert, and the positions marked in the photograph are exactly opposite where we were seated (or falling).

I was aware of screams as I tumbled, and I must have knocked over at least a dozen people on my way down. Unfortunately, I landed (and I am not light!) on two ladies at the bottom of the heap. One was unhurt but hysterical, the other, more seriously, bashed her head on the wood of the front panel. First-aiders came to the rescue, and as far as I know, the squashed and bashed woman was not too badly injured: I do hope so.

It has to be said that there was a fair chance that I would have gone over the protective balustrade, in in which case it would probably have been a case of Requiem æternam (I have a feeling that this is grammatically incorrect, since it seems to be accusative, and is part of a longer phrase, but it's too long since I did Latin O-Level!) . Anyway, our excellent music seems not to have been followed by a need for a Missa Defunctorum.

I insisted to my own first-aider that I was basically OK, and that I did not require to be examined in hospital! Just imagine what it's like at A&E on a Saturday evening... Anyway, I do seem to have got away lightly with what was a pretty violent fall. I think that nothing is broken, and that the main outcome is extensive (and not too comfortable) bruising. The male partner of our visitors, a distinguished Professor of Physics, thought it desirable to take a photograph of one area of damage. I'm not so sure! Anyway, this contribution comes with a WARNING that those of a nervous disposition, or who are offended by male nudity should avert their eyes NOW.

Even without hospital visits, there were accident reports to complete for the Sheldonian, and so on. However, I decided that I could hobble along with the others to the Italian restaurant we had originally proposed to visit, and there started on the red wine that I am sure is a cure for my injuries.

So, I reach my conclusion. It was such a special concert that it was one we were unlikely to forget, anyway. But the added drama made absolutely certain that the occasion will remain long in our memories. Next time, I'll be more careful leaving the building...