Not the Handmaid's Tale ...

Despite appearances to the contrary, Himself has not become an Attwood Handmaid, but rather was singing in the Cathedral of The Isles - as was I - with a visiting choir to celebrate the death four hundred years ago today of the composer William Byrd. The red robes - which I always thought of as Whoopi Goldberg robes until The Handmaid's Tale came along - were a gift from a church in the USA to the cathedral, to be used by whichever choir or ad hoc group that found themselves participating in services; they are very synthetic and rather hot but have the advantage that you can wear just about anything you like under them. I cannot resist, however, going round making comments like "Under His eye..." while wearing one. (Actually, I don't wear one. I wear number 3, which has had my initials on it from the year they arrived.)

The copy of Byrd's music in the collage is from the 19th century, when Byrd was brought back into the public eye after being out of favour for some 200 years. Our friend Alastair, the Cathedral organist and Lay Chaplain, gave an address during Evensong in which he told not only of the times in which Byrd wrote but also the effect the music had had on his own life - an effect which closely mirrors my own experience. On the day I was confirmed, for example, on my 28th birthday, Himself, Alastair and I sang Byrd's Mass for Three Voices during the confirmation eucharist, and it remains my favourite piece of music to this day.

Personally, I was finding the day trying: having decided that what I've been suffering from was perhaps more allergy than virus, I woke this morning with conjunctivitis, which spread to the other eye during the day and succeeded in making it very hard to read the music while giving me a stonking headache. My voice was feeble, which was also annoying, though at least I was in tune. Not everyone in other choirs sings in tune ...

The collage includes a picture of Himself and the rest of the choir preparing to process into the cathedral, and an old painting of the buildings when they were new. The part of the South College where the group is standing can be seen in the painting because the mature trees in the grounds had not yet grown.

Funny - we had sun by the afternoon; #1 son was at Holyrood attending the Garden Party and it was pouring ... and here was I thinking it didn't rain in Edinburgh!