Monday, 17 September 2018

St Blaise Does His Stuff

The malign effect of colds on one's voice is familiar enough but Messy Church always seems to provide the possibility of strain as well. Although I make sure I'm miked up when doing the talk and I'm only addressing a group of small children who are never that rowdy there usually comes a point when my voice is on the brink of cracking. On Saturday it tipped over that brink and caught me completely by surprise, I think in the course of turning awkwardly between laptop and projector screen. Several glasses of water were rushed in my direction and with a great deal of trouble I carried on and some of my words were heard. 

Sunday brought four services with it. My voice was still ropey when I got up and fragile throughout the 8am mass, but with the aid of some disgusting throat lozenges and, I like to think, the intercession of St Blaise, nothing problematic occurred through the rest of the day. Although I once had to step in and take a service when our former curate lost her voice, and watched it, horribly, happen to our previous bishop in the middle of a confirmation service (most inconvenient as nobody could stand in for him), it's taken nine years for this to happen to me and I would prefer it not to occur again. I must take greater care in Messy Church! A worthwhile maxim generally.

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