If, like me, you played the recorder during schooldays, you may well be more familiar with the work of his son, Carl Frederick, who compiled lots of recorder books for schools. Needless to say, the programme had a real "early music" flavour. And we loved it! (Though I was surprised to notice Ma's nose wrinkle up at one point, only to have my nostrils assailed seconds later. Still, I suppose that afflaetus causes less disruption to a concert than coughing or nose blowing...)
After such a treat I found myself at quite a loose end the following day (both Graham and his daughter are in deep in the throes of academic masterworks at the moment and both of them wanted to use the computer; it was one of those "I'm outta here" moments!) So I headed off to Ely, planning an idle day of rootling through the antiques centre and the market stalls. But I found myself drawn to the cathedral. (No, not the stirrings of Christian sentiment in my breast, just the call of an ancient monument and the joy of sacred space, no matter to whom--or what--it is dedicated). And as I went in I spotted a small notice advertising a choral recital later that afternoon. I had no idea what the programme would be but, as the admission charge was merely a donation on the way out (if you see what I mean) I decided to give it a go.