AN OCCASIONAL CHURCH ATTENDANCE

When my idyllic and carefree childhood was shattered by the inevitable onset of puberty, with its concomitant breakout of body-hair and boils, my voice descended precipitously into the baritone register. At this confusing stage of our formative years, my brother and I were dragooned, rather unsympathetically it seemed, into the choir of Sandwick U. F. Church. This happened in the 1960s, when our little church, and the others in the parish, were full for the evening services - less well-attended in the mornings. As I got the hang of reading staff music, and the social aspect of being a choir member became enjoyable, what had started out as something to be feared quickly became a source of great pleasure for me. I sang bass, my brother was a tenor, and my sister Mary was in the soprano section. My mother, who was a mezzo, could also have been with the sopranos, but usually helped out in the less-populated altos. Oh, and my sister Thelma played the organ. So quite a lot of hymns were sung by our family members on Sundays. My chief memory of the Schoolhouse in Sandwick was that the building seemed to ring constantly with music and laughter.

Over the ensuing years, we all left to pursue careers, get married and set up homes elsewhere. But whenever my brother comes up to visit those of us who have remained in, or returned to, Shetland, the two of us like to take a Sunday drive down to Sandwick to attend a service in the old church. It has been extensively refurbished since we were young, and is sadly, like most other churches, less well-attended than in the days of our youth. There was no choir there today, and some of the hymns were unfamiliar to me, but it was nice to be back there again.