When I nervously joined the choir for the first time, I was confronted by a dapper gentleman with alarming eyebrows and sharp eyes. It turned out that David and I had had similar experiences as choristers - him as a choral scholar for one of the big Cathedrals (I can't remember which) and me for Jesus Chapel Choir, as a scally from the mean streets of Cambridge.

Very soon we were chatting and giggling like schoolboys on the back row. We had to be on the back row, as second basses, but that didn't mean we had to adopt the poor behaviour to go with it. However, there's a lot to find funny in a choir, and David and I dug deep. We often irritated the other basses, John R often felt it was his duty to shush us (while laughing inwardly) and we got a nice range of hisses from the altos.

David had a problem with the habit of 'warming up' the choir before the rehearsal. Any professional will tell you this is the right thing to do, but this particular 'right thing to do' didn't much impress either of us - wouldn't the rehearsal itself warm up our voices adequately? But David's problem wasn't only that. He had got into the habit of bringing a joke to every rehearsal, many of which were actually funny. A lot of them fell into the 'shaggy dog story' category, which meant that he was often in full flow when the warming up starting and David wasn't about to let anything get in the way of a good punchline.

Possibly as a result of our contributions, the choir committee discussed it, the members voted on it, and the 'warm up' became official business with required participation. Perhaps it's as well this happened after David's time, as I doubt that it would have made a blind bit of difference to him.

My favourite quip of David's was a slightly scandalous one about the (then) new king, which I'll keep to myself and treasure.

I was singing in the bass clef for the first time, and in a register I'd never used in anger. David was a rock - great tone, very good intonation, and, with a lifetime of singing and organ playing, very good reading and sight-reading abilities. I learned to rely on him as I grew in confidence. He was never precious, and would happily accept it if I pointed out we'd hit the wrong note or came in too early or something. We would work out where we were going to get our note from the orchestra and learned pieces... in between jokes.

Now that David has gone to the big choir in the sky, we lack his warm appreciation of humanity in all its absurdity and richness. David, you will be missed.

Ben

Ben Bruges (co-second bass)