inding St Mary and St Michael, Mistley proved to be more than a bit difficult as Marcel and I leapfrogged the byways of Tendring trying to see who could get there first to unload the staging. Let it be known that despite Rousseau's past experience as a navigator in the RAF it was me who succumbed first and went into the local supermarket to get directions!

Despite the journey we were awarded by parking amongst the chickens in the local animal sanctuary - and fine beasts they were to. After chatting to some of them and encouraging them that they could well use their talents by joining the baritones I decided once the staging had probably now arrived and had been set up it was safe to enter the church.

I have to say I thought the church was quite superb. Being a comprehensively educated Black Country boy I am reliant on those such as Mr Deane and Mr Wandless to keep me up to speed with history and general knowledge and they did not let me down. I am reliably informed by Mr Deane that the beautiful semi dome- like structure at the altar is an apse which is particularly, and I agree, Russian Orthodox and that Thomas Osmond, according to Mr Wandless, was burnt by the people of Mistley for being a witch. I thought it safe to keep this hideous historical fact about the citizens of Mistley from the baritones for obvious reasons. Despite Mr Telford-Taylor's local church at Cotton floating in the ether of Bells, Smells and (lots of) Smoke I would not like to take him back to Cotton resembling the contents of a thurible.

The piano, when the key arrived, turned out to be quite a marvelous instrument when you got used to it and after persuading some of the second tenors that they were in fact second tenors and basso profundos we were to get the assembled lamia praedatorae (impressive eh?) of Mistley rolling in the aisles.

The acoustic of St Mary and St Michael proved to be outstanding and many choristers asked if it would be possible to use it as a venue to use for our next CD - we could do that if it were not for the proximity of the main line to Liverpool Street and the Chicken Choir next door. Although we could probably get away with Gospel Train, There's Nothin Like Some Game (go on think about - chicken isn't game but you know) and Someone's Pulling My Leghorn (Baritones - a Leghorn is a type of chicken!)

I wish I could boast the creation of the 'Play Mistley For Me' that unfortunately was Mr Bacon who was spotted by a number of members walking deliriously around the World Of Owls Exhibition at the Animal Sanctuary. It wasn't until we realized he had shared a car all the way from Rougham with Mr Ottley that we began to understand his predicament.

On a serious note - I thought Sunday afternoons' concert exceptionable. The audience were very warm and welcoming and everybody gave of their best! A tremendous achievement once again boys. Well done!

Mark Jefferson