 To Maastricht this morning, to the European Institute of Public Administration, for a business meeting. Once the meeting was over we had to wait a few minutes for our minibus back and so we nipped into the ancient church opposite, the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwebasiliek (Basilica of Our Lady), for a quick visit. An organist was practising on the fine organ (picture). Maybe it was because we were close to lunchtime, but I found myself transported back almost half a century to St Joseph’s church, Harrow Weald, at about a quarter-past midday, after sung Sunday mass. Though we boys were by now ravenously hungry (though not because we had to fast – we were considered too young for that) and the Sunday roast awaited us at home, my mother would always keep us waiting, talking to friends and neighbours. The church had a reasonable organist, Mrs Bowers, an older, long-skirted lady, and at times quite a good choir. Whenever I realised that we were not going to make a quick getaway I always slunk back into the church because I had discovered that when everybody was leaving Mrs Bowers started to let her hair down and she always, always finished with some deep base notes – the equivalent of power chords on an electric guitar – that made the furniture and my stomach rumble and buzz most enjoyably. In her own sweet way, that little old lady rocked!
To Maastricht this morning, to the European Institute of Public Administration, for a business meeting. Once the meeting was over we had to wait a few minutes for our minibus back and so we nipped into the ancient church opposite, the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwebasiliek (Basilica of Our Lady), for a quick visit. An organist was practising on the fine organ (picture). Maybe it was because we were close to lunchtime, but I found myself transported back almost half a century to St Joseph’s church, Harrow Weald, at about a quarter-past midday, after sung Sunday mass. Though we boys were by now ravenously hungry (though not because we had to fast – we were considered too young for that) and the Sunday roast awaited us at home, my mother would always keep us waiting, talking to friends and neighbours. The church had a reasonable organist, Mrs Bowers, an older, long-skirted lady, and at times quite a good choir. Whenever I realised that we were not going to make a quick getaway I always slunk back into the church because I had discovered that when everybody was leaving Mrs Bowers started to let her hair down and she always, always finished with some deep base notes – the equivalent of power chords on an electric guitar – that made the furniture and my stomach rumble and buzz most enjoyably. In her own sweet way, that little old lady rocked!
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