By Mike Senior
She entered like a breeze from heaven. A smiling, slightly flustered, but melodious face. A new recruit to the Village Choir – a rare event.
Unknown, but made welcome as only Village Choristers can. She arrived late into the Parish Hall, but was ready to perform. A second soprano? An alto? A tenor or bass even? Who cared? She was new blood.
Straight into the warm-up scales like a soaring song-bird. A paragon of pitch. The hearts of the choir droners leapt – a recruit who could actually sing, read music, and hold a line. She had surely descended from some celestial choir.
Stirred to greater things than was ever thought possible, the veteran choristers burst their lungs with mighty chords as they sought to emulate the sublime cadences of the new recruit. Rutter’s tortuous tunes were made plain-song easily dredged from throats not known for harmony.
The joyous rehearsal was over all too soon. How time had flown on the crochets and quavers of our new Dame Kiri.
She left as quickly as she had appeared – straight to a gathering in the Scout Hut. She had attended the wrong meeting. She has not been seen or heard since.