It’s been eighteen months since the choir last met ‘in real life’. They’ve finally got a wedding gig coming up in a few weeks and choirmaster Clive says Covid has made their vibrato dreadfully rusty.
Ethel the organist has already ruffled feathers by saying that everyone’s choir robes seem to be straining at the seams. Clive (Ethel’s biggest fan) adds insult to injury by saying that the lockdown pounds are making ‘You Raise Me Up’ a challenge in more ways than one.
Juliet thinks back fondly to the days of Zoom rehearsals when she could wear a kaftan and compression stockings, and no one would be any the wiser. Her varicose veins are agony these days and as far as she is concerned ‘Stand By Me’ is a whole lot more joyful sitting down. Still, she does recognise that Zoom rehearsals weren't all comfy pants and cornflake cake for everyone. Look at the poor baritones – it’s unlikely they’ll ever recover from Ethel’s inadvertently unmuted review of their tessitura.
As the choir finish Endless Love and head for the vending machine the girls all agree they just aren’t feeling the lyrics today. The consensus is that staying at home with the latest title from their Mills & Boon Club would have been a far more enjoyable route to bodice-ripping.
Clive bustles to the front of the queue with customary self-importance. He and Ethel ALWAYS share a can of pop and a bag of potato snacks after rehearsal – it’s his way of saying thank you for those incredibly talented fingers of hers on the pipes each week.
After such a long break in use though, the vending machine is proving as rusty as their voices, and Clive’s NikNaks get caught in the dispensing drawer.
The girls think it was probably worth turning up to rehearsal after all.