I have written a short chorale prelude for organ on the traditional carol In Dulci Jubilo.
It was quite unexpected, a gift from my muse. I think of her as a person, rather like a guardian angel.
As I was driving over to Witton last Wednesday to practise the organ for the carol service on Friday, I asked her rather plaintively to help me. I have completed only one short piano piece in over two years. Not since I left Cambridge in 1980, disillusioned with my composing efforts and set on a career as a concert pianist, have I found it so hard to write.
And when I had all but given up hope of composing again, I found the germ of an idea while improvising on a reedy old country organ.
My new organ prelude breaks no new ground. It asks no deep questions. It is an occasional piece and does what is required of it. But at Witton on Friday, as the church-goers chatted with their mince pies and mulled wine in the flickering candlelight, I knew I had come home. Christmas is about becoming a child again, as God did.
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