Forgotten

There is a story in the news about William Elliot who was a chorister. Workmen restoring Sunderland Parish Church discovered a note, addressed to a "Dear Friend" stuffed down the side of one of the pews: it was written on the back of a chorister's order of service sheet dated 11 August 1897. The 13-year-old asks whoever finds it not to throw it away but "keep it in remembrance of me".

I have a lot of sympathy for this boy as I feel there was a time when the Church of England forgot about me (as an organist) and I've blogged about this in the past but cannot find where just now.

I also feel somewhat forgotten and betrayed by the Old Chorister's Association (OCA). When I was a chorister we were 'paid' a small amount of money per term and this was kept for us ready for when we left the choir: I only found out when I was about to leave. Although money was worth a lot more back in the 1971 I think I was due something like £3 10s 0d which is about £45 in today's money.

I was required - yes required - to pay a Life Subscription to the OCA: in fact it was deducted before I received my cash. Years later (possibly 15-20) the OCA wrote to say that I would have to pay an annual subscription if I wanted to remain a member. Rising costs of paper and postage had necessitated a review of financial procedures it seems. Given that I had few chorister friends I decided not to rejoin and so I do not now belong to the OCA. My ex-wife was part of the reason for this. To her - and I did agree - the OCA existed to hold an annual dinner at which we had a poor meal (think undercooked chicken) and then had to listen to boring speakers drone on and on. It was not for us.

Similarly with the Grammar School I attended. My mother used to cough up a termly amount of cash for the 'Old Boys' Association' (in the days before it went mixed) which was to serve as Life Membership. Guess what, they wrote to say that such membership would now cost an annual subscription and so I left.

I find this all rather distasteful. One follows the rules and then somebody moves the goalposts. This is very much how the church works. I was appointed organist at the place where I now play and then somebody else was booked to play for a wedding.

A chip on my shoulder - probably.