A single flame ...

Advent Sunday. At the end of Evensong, a single candle burns on the Advent wreath, nestling among the greenery and the pink berries we gathered last week. We sang plainsong canticles, a plainsong psalm. We began with the glorious Matin Responsory by Palestrina, sung from the narthex arch without any announcement. It was traditional and it was lovely.

But there were untraditional sides to this very traditional service. I loved the fact that we synchronised the opening notes with a phone rather than a watch. I loved the preponderance of women's voices in what was traditionally a very male domain (the choir was all female, and we have a female curate). I was less happy about singing tenor, but as the only man available is a bass and is also the organist, needs must. It's a tad trying getting back into a different register later, however, and it becomes harder with every passing year.

But I know it worked, and the congregation were appreciative in the way that tells you more than they say.

My extra photo is of the church as darkness falls.

I love Advent.