piece of a burst balloon which I had sucked into a little bubble and then twisted it until the bubble was ready to burst . I then rather foolishly burst it on the head of the chorister standing next to me, resulting in quite a loud pop, which sounded like a gun going off in the reverend silence of building. For this little misdemeanour I was suspended from going in with the choir for a week !

When I was about 13 the tower was half built and they had built the Rose window up to about half way . There was planking going across the stonework of the window, with a hand rail . Somehow I had managed to find my way up to this area, and walked across this rather precarious planking, and when I come to think of it now it was an extremely dangerous situation for a youngster to be in . I remember looking down into the grounds and it seemed a tremendous distance, but the view from up there was great . I think I got a severe reprimand for that little episode ! From what I have mentioned so far you might get the impression I was a delinquent chorister. Not so! For the major part of my time I was very law abiding ! The choir used to broadcast every Easter and Christmas, and was accompanied by the Halle Orchestra . On one of these occasions I had the honour of singing the solo ' Oh for the wings of a dove..'.

One of the other services which I found very moving was the Armistice Day service . The first World War was still very vivid in many people's minds and the Cathedral would be packed with people many of whom had had fathers, sons, or brothers killed in the conflict. There was always a Trumpeter from a local regiment who would be sited high up in the galleries, and straight after the minute's silence in remembrance of these killed, he would sound the ' Last Post ' and then ' Reveille '. Sometimes this Service was just too much for some people and they would faint and have to be carried out to recover.

A particular point in the service used to get to me, when we would sing an Anthem using the words from Laurence Binyons famous and moving poem ' For the Fallen '. They were, ' Naught could tame them, hunger nor legions nor shattering cannonades, they were straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow, and they fell with their faces to the foe .

They shall not grow old, as we who are left grow old,
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them. '

This was truly a service to remember. Now, sadly, it looks like Armistice Day is just going to pass into the annals of history. Short lived memories for those millions who made the ultimate sacrifice in two World Wars, that we might remain FREE .
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