The Waltham Abbey Choir And Other Memories

A Memory of Waltham Abbey.

My family lived in Waltham Abbey from 1955 to 1961 and living there left a lasting impression on me.
I attended Waltham Holy Cross County Primary School during this time and at the ripe old age of 8 auditioned there to become a chorister. The teacher was one Mr. Goodger whom I remember as a kindly old man. (I guess all adults seemed old in those days).
Anyway I passed the audition and went to the Abbey and met Canon AVG Cleall, who taught me to understand Roman numerals and the choirmaster whose name escapes me, but was known by all the boys (it was an all male choir then) as Moppie on account of his long(ish) silver hair.
Well Moppie took me through a whole bunch of scales which I could sing with ease and which made me later think that choir practice was a waste of time. I had no idea other members wanted and needed the practices.
I should explain that I was by no means a Christian in those days and church was the ultimate in boredom. No, my reason for being in the choir was purely mercenary. They paid me! 5 bob a month, with threepence deducted for each practice missed and sixpence for each service. Springtime was great as we were paid half a crown for weddings. I can remember going to 6 in one day once. I was rich!!
Probably the most notable memory I have of the choir was at the 9th centenary celebrations held in 1960, with everything decked out and spruced up and the Abbey was packed. (This wasn't such a common occurrence). We processed outside, which I thought was great as it was crowded outside too. I'm not absolutely sure if it was this particular occasion, but I think I was chosen to sing a verse of one of the hymns solo. I remember feeling very proud. After all the celebrations all the choir members were presented with silver engraved medallions to mark the occasion.
Our head (boy) chorister was a guy named Peter Lilley, who wasn't averse to keeping all the boys in line - not only with words, but (often painful) action. I was terrified and jealous of him. Terrified because when I got out of line (which was quite often) I got thumped and jealous because he had this large silver choristers medallion on a purple ribbon which I coveted! It was so much better than everyone else's ovally shaped brass "Royal School of Church Music" medallions. The colour of the medallion ribbons, incidentally, were a mark of seniority. White, yellow, blue. I only got to blue!
Christmas and Easter also feature in my memory as times of much pomp and ceremony. I loved singing the high note descants to many of the Christmas carols. Whenever I hear carols now, though I can't sing a note anymore, I do in my mind. Very nostalgic that!
Most of us young boys (of which I was the youngest) used to get up to all sorts of mischief almost all of the time. We were anything but the little angels we looked as we processed down the nave in our red cassocks with ruffled, totally starched, collars, spotless surplices and coloured medal ribbons to the choir stalls at the front of the Abbey.
One particular piece of potentially fatal naughtiness occurred in those very stalls. They were installed during my time as a chorister, complete with overhead book lights. These were, from memory, strip lights. You could take the insulating end piece out of the tubes - which we did - being careful not touch the metal on which our psalters etc. were placed. Looking along the row of boys we would catch an unwary one, singing with concentration, with his hand on the metal. Then (at times) 3 or 4 of us would touch hands and the guy next to the unwary one would touch him and we'd all get an almighty boot of electricity. Needless to say, this didn't do anything to improve our choral harmony! Moppie got pretty angry.
I have many other memories of the old Abbey and believe, despite my (then) somewhat heathen outlook, my time as a choirboy there was instrumental in my eventual conversion to Christianity.
Suffice to say I am one of those people who was so clearly confronted by Christ that it was impossible for Him not to get my attention! What happened next was tears such as I've never cried before or since, followed by the reality of being forgiven and restored. That happened on a Thursday in the (Australian) autumn in 1976. The following Sunday I went to church for the first time (barring the odd wedding etc) since Waltham Abbey. It was a Lutheran (what on earth is that I asked myself?) church in Adelaide, South Australia.
Anyway I was bothered that I wouldn't know what to do. Sit, stand, kneel - when, where? It was a Vespers service and though I hadn't even thought of worship before, there was the familiar litergy, creed, (OK I did say the quick and the dead, rather than the living....) the Lord's Prayer. I knew all the responses. Quite like the High C of E place I went to as a kid. Yes, this was church. A baptist, Assemblies of God, whatever, church wouldn't have meant nearly as much to me as hearing that old service order in that almost empty church. God knew, yer reckon!
I live in Australia now and have been a Christian longer than not. Now, I wouldn't (and couldn't) have it any other way.
My rememberence of the Abbey itself, as well as the town will always be close to me. Someday I hope to visit again. Soon perhaps.
God bless you all,
Bill.
11th September 2008.

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