pronounced the word Devon-fashion. ‘From across the Tamar. And I forgot my passport!’
‘As an old Exonian I think we’ll count you as an honorary Devon man.’ Isoldé laughed. ‘How old were you then, in Caer Bottreaux? How did you meet the organist?’
‘I had a good voice as a boy and they wanted me in the choir. The first time I went for practice and the organist started up with this incredible beast, it just rolled me up. I couldn’t take my eyes off it and hit loads of wrong notes. Finally he got exasperated and said
“You just come over here, young Mark, so you can see her then. We’ve got to get that goggle-eyed look out your system or we’ll never get a good note out of you!”
And he showed the organ to me. All those stops and pedals. And the pipes …that’s what did it, when I first heard them breathe. They do that you know, almost breathe of themselves. After a few more weeks, when I’d showed him I really could sing, he let me watch while he played after choir practice one evening. That was it. My hair stood on end. He took pity on me then and began to give me lessons.’
‘Just like that? I understood organists were very protective about their organs.’
‘Oh they are!’ Mark laughed. ‘But …yes …that’s how it was, sort of. I already did piano lessons, so I knew my way round the keyboard, after a fashion, but the organ is very different and, of course, the pressure’s the other way around. Piano’s hard, percussive, whereas the organ’s soft. I had to unlearn a whole load of things in order to play it.’
‘But it stuck, you enjoyed it.’
‘Ye-es …enjoy’s not quite how it is. Organists are very passionate about their instrument, it’s like a part of yourself, once you’re bitten you’re never free of it. Organs are my life.’
‘So you learned with the organist in Caer Bottreaux?’
‘Yes, but he soon realised that I could go much further than he could take me. He came down to our cottage by the harbour one evening and knocked up my parents, told them he’d help me get into the Cathedral School here and so he did. Wrote up a recommendation which got me an interview and then I had to play for them. They started me off on a little organ in the precentor’s house but then they took me up to the cathedral. I was thrilled and terrified all at the same time, climbing up into the organ loft. It’s huge up there, especially when you’re only twelve. I could hardly reach the peddles but the organist helped me and I managed to play “Three Blind Mice” for them, and then a bit of some of the hymns we used at home. Then the organist sat beside me and began Bach’s toccata and fugue in D minor. I knew it, of course, and he somehow got my hands to play the right notes while his feet fumbled the peddles and he pulled the stops I couldn’t reach. In the end we were both laughing fit to bust. I followed him back down the stairs to where the precentor was waiting. The organist just nodded to him. “He’ll do,” he said. And that was it. I began at the Cathedral school the following week.’
‘Did you mind being away from home, boarding school?’
‘Yes and no. I missed the sea very much. Our cottage was right down by the harbour, you can always hear the sea there. Whenthe gales are up the sea crashes on the rocks, the cliffs thunder and it’s all you can do to stand upright outside the cottage door.’
‘That sounds incredible!’
‘So it is.’ Mark chuckled. ‘Not everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re born there it’s in your blood.’
‘You missed the sea, here at school …’ Isoldé prompted him.
‘I did. But the organ held me. I needed that more than the sea.’
‘Did you sing in the choir too?’
‘For a short while, until my voice broke. The good voice I had as a boy became quite undistinguished once it changed. I can sing along in a folk group now but that’s about all.’
‘You got a scholarship to the Royal College of Music, didn’t
‘As an old Exonian I think we’ll count you as an honorary Devon man.’ Isoldé laughed. ‘How old were you then, in Caer Bottreaux? How did you meet the organist?’
‘I had a good voice as a boy and they wanted me in the choir. The first time I went for practice and the organist started up with this incredible beast, it just rolled me up. I couldn’t take my eyes off it and hit loads of wrong notes. Finally he got exasperated and said
“You just come over here, young Mark, so you can see her then. We’ve got to get that goggle-eyed look out your system or we’ll never get a good note out of you!”
And he showed the organ to me. All those stops and pedals. And the pipes …that’s what did it, when I first heard them breathe. They do that you know, almost breathe of themselves. After a few more weeks, when I’d showed him I really could sing, he let me watch while he played after choir practice one evening. That was it. My hair stood on end. He took pity on me then and began to give me lessons.’
‘Just like that? I understood organists were very protective about their organs.’
‘Oh they are!’ Mark laughed. ‘But …yes …that’s how it was, sort of. I already did piano lessons, so I knew my way round the keyboard, after a fashion, but the organ is very different and, of course, the pressure’s the other way around. Piano’s hard, percussive, whereas the organ’s soft. I had to unlearn a whole load of things in order to play it.’
‘But it stuck, you enjoyed it.’
‘Ye-es …enjoy’s not quite how it is. Organists are very passionate about their instrument, it’s like a part of yourself, once you’re bitten you’re never free of it. Organs are my life.’
‘So you learned with the organist in Caer Bottreaux?’
‘Yes, but he soon realised that I could go much further than he could take me. He came down to our cottage by the harbour one evening and knocked up my parents, told them he’d help me get into the Cathedral School here and so he did. Wrote up a recommendation which got me an interview and then I had to play for them. They started me off on a little organ in the precentor’s house but then they took me up to the cathedral. I was thrilled and terrified all at the same time, climbing up into the organ loft. It’s huge up there, especially when you’re only twelve. I could hardly reach the peddles but the organist helped me and I managed to play “Three Blind Mice” for them, and then a bit of some of the hymns we used at home. Then the organist sat beside me and began Bach’s toccata and fugue in D minor. I knew it, of course, and he somehow got my hands to play the right notes while his feet fumbled the peddles and he pulled the stops I couldn’t reach. In the end we were both laughing fit to bust. I followed him back down the stairs to where the precentor was waiting. The organist just nodded to him. “He’ll do,” he said. And that was it. I began at the Cathedral school the following week.’
‘Did you mind being away from home, boarding school?’
‘Yes and no. I missed the sea very much. Our cottage was right down by the harbour, you can always hear the sea there. Whenthe gales are up the sea crashes on the rocks, the cliffs thunder and it’s all you can do to stand upright outside the cottage door.’
‘That sounds incredible!’
‘So it is.’ Mark chuckled. ‘Not everyone’s cup of tea, but if you’re born there it’s in your blood.’
‘You missed the sea, here at school …’ Isoldé prompted him.
‘I did. But the organ held me. I needed that more than the sea.’
‘Did you sing in the choir too?’
‘For a short while, until my voice broke. The good voice I had as a boy became quite undistinguished once it changed. I can sing along in a folk group now but that’s about all.’
‘You got a scholarship to the Royal College of Music, didn’t
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