An indomitable figure stood poised in the doorway of the monastery trapeza, binoculars at the ready, scanning the distant horizon. It was no ordinary day in paradise. It was no minor feast for which this soldier of the kitchen kept vigil this afternoon. It was a cold, soggy, quintessentially overcast November day: The Day. The… Continue reading Something Told the Wild Turkeys
Once, Mrs. Pickwick spent a blissful evening at choir rehearsal, completely uninterrupted by any little Pickwickian emergencies. Even Baby P’s bedtime came and went, and with no panic-stricken texts, or Baby himself delivered mid-rehearsal. How can this be? Mrs. Pickwick marveled at this delightful freedom, truly incredulous that her phone had remained silent from 7–9… Continue reading Mrs Pickwick Checks Her Phone
Mrs Pickwick has long been absolutely essential to every choral ensemble to cross her path. Fr Pickwick has even been to known to claim that the show simply could not go on without her, as shows desperately need an audience and also musicians tend to be rather faint after performances and he prefers to be… Continue reading Mrs Pickwick is in a Concert
