The Beaker Choir

Full marks once again to Keith for his hard work and imagination.  It was quite an achievement, clearing St Bogwulf's Chapel.  But I think the knock-on effects may mean trouble.
St Bogwulf's had been the chapel on the family estate for hundreds of years, until my grandfather Orville's joining of the Extremely Primitive Methodists meant an end to what he so waggishly called "iconography, idolatory and abomination".  He had a very dry sense of humour, did Granddad Orville.  At least, I think it was a sense of humour.  In any case, over the years he converted the chapel into a log shed, a Chinese steam laundry, a branch of Woolworth's and - finally - a very small warehouse for a local ironmonger's.  Granddad died during a seven-hour sermon in the long cold winter of 1978-9.  When they came to bury him in the family vault, they found they couldn't get to it because the chapel was full of assorted iron fittings.  So instead they threw him in the brook and covered him with hinges and coat hooks.  It was what he would have wanted...

Anyway, thanks to Keith we now have St Bogwulf's re-opened and, due to some really hard work on the part of Grenville, and some assistance from a local plumbers' merchants, we have heating.  So a suitable replacement for the Moot House!  Unfortunately, the place is quite small so twenty or so Beaker Folk have to stand outside during our Occasions, but into every life a little rain must fall.  Or sleet, indeed.

Now when they said "can we start a choir?" I presumed they meant a quire.  So I said of course they could - looking forward to our worship being enlivened by a little 17th-century carolling.  I even said they could pick the songs.  But no.  They meant a choir.  Eight people who would - let's say - be entitled to protection from Sudbury council's offense-prevention unit, each equipped with enormous robes.  Singing 19th century tat and - for reasons best known to themselves - a selection of "songs from the shows".  Not only that,  but by careful placing they managed to put their robes over all the heating vents in the floor.  We were all so cold that we might as well be outside - a reminder that Granddad Orville used the place as a refrigerator for a while, on account of its thick walls - while the choir stood in cosy splendour.

Now, I've spoken to the choirmaster (who appointed him?  I'd like to know) about the situation.  He explained that the choir has chosen the hymns - ever since 1845.  I pointed out that he meant 18.45 last night.  He accused me of unreasonably attempting to change the music in the church and said that "some people" (unspecified, he said because I might "get at" them, I think because they don't really exist) only come to Beaker worship because of the choir, and that he, the choir and they would walk out if I stopped them.

It's a tricky situation, needing tact, diplomacy and empathy on both sides.  So I think we could be in trouble here...