The Chancel

I was a chorister here, oh, so long ago. Sunday Evensong with the setting sun spilling through the west window under which we donned surplice and cassock in a curtained-off area behind the last pews. The dust motes swirling in the shafts of light; the hum of conversation as worshippers took their places. Minutes passed in an air of expectancy. Finally, the hoisting of the holy cross and the procession along the nave to the chancel, passing the congregation occupying the same pews as last week and the week before, yea even unto the Norman conquest. Shuffling, page-turning, clearing of throats, the wheeze of the organ bellows as fresh wind was pumped in. And at last, on cue, the majesty of the organ pipes filled the church, and voices harmonised in a noble offering being simultaneously replicated in ten thousand other English churches.
Nikon F90X and a Sigma 15-30mm EX lens.