I'll begin with some corrections: when my Grandma remarried Mum didn't get new cousins, she got two step-siblings. On my English side I have 2 cousins and 3 step-cousins. How pitiful.
No I'm not going to start counting my German cousins, that'll mean going through my family tree in detail. In today's entry, I'll be giving the thoughts that I had while at an organ recital.
The organist who was showing off was not much older than Nathan, which prompted the usual jealousy that I have with child prodigies. But she was delightfully good. There were not loads in the audience and only 3 people under 18. My thoughts then formed, thinking that organists are desperately needed by many churches so that the congregation (church audience) are properly led when singing, and to train the choir, and to delight people in recitals. More young people need to be interested in organs so that more organists are bred.
I once went to an organ recital in Germany and there were more teenagers in the audience there. Germans are often very good at balancing their tastes between the traditional and the modern. Now I implore you; if you get the chance to hear an organ recital: go. You may find yourself amazed at what you hear because hearing an organ is like hearing an orchestra. Plus you may have all kinds of gothic imagery forming in your head if you're into that kind of thing.
I don't want to hear any of the 'I know what an organ sounds like it plays on this tune' crap. Organ playing on mainstream music is usually simulated on a keyboard, which is why it's not that imposing and often sounds like a menacing background. If you ever hear a real organ amid complete silence it sounds like a force that destroys all other sound. It's dominant. It's big! It demands your attention and love and worship!
(I'm getting a bit carried away here aren't I?)Well I'll just quickly talk about something else before I go. You may have noticed that 2 of my entries so far have ended with "Toodles!". That's because Nathan was writing them. You see, he is frequently seduced by the curse of boredom and sometimes his demand for something to do coincides with when I want to write an entry, so he becomes my typist. He writes "Toodles!" because he has to end all written passages with something.
Readers beware, the next time you find "Toodles!" written here, know that the hand of Nathan has struck.
PS. There won't be a new chapter posted up this week partly because I'm in Europe and partly because I ain't bothered.