Monday morning.  I’ve been all round the houses this weekend – to a school visit on Friday as part of the Pearson Teaching Awards judging team (and when the visits are national they can be a long way away), to my niece’s Hen Party in Bristol on Saturday (catching up on Friday night with a treasured friend) and then to Birmingham on Sunday to join 599 other singers in our first joint rehearsal of Havergal Brian’s Gothic Symphony, which we’ll be performing on Sunday 17th July, 2011 as part this year’s series of Prom Concerts at the Royal Albert Hall.

So, it’s been quite a weekend!  I wish I could say more about my school visit on Friday and – because I am committed to the judging process and want to maintain confidentiality – I can’t.  My niece’s hen party was a blast as well as a reflection of so much that makes her who she is (and her parents the ones who have and continue to nurture her).  We have a buffet lunch as her guests – circa 35 assorted friends and family – gather in Bristol before going on a treasure hunt around Whiteladies Road, gathering answers in response to a whole load of clues and ending up with afternoon tea, scoring, prizes and much hilarity.  We get changed for dinner before a boat trip and then supper – a rather wonderful and ample supper – in a Chinese restaurant tucked away somewhere near the harbour.  On Sunday morning I catch the first train to Birmingham to sing.  It isn’t early – 9.30am from Bristol – and it isn’t fast, meandering cross country on it’s way to Brum.  Not early – though it seems like it!  The last few days have involved early starts and late finishes and they’re catching up with me.

Our performance next Sunday will be only the 6th performance of Brian’s Gothic Symphony since he completed it in 1951 and tickets have been sold out for some time now.  Why so rarely performed?  Members of the Havergal Brian Society will certainly protest at any suggestion that it is because this music is in any way lacking.  Rather, the symphony requires huge forces (including 6 – 800 singers, 190 orchestral players and soloists) a venue which can house both performers and an audience, funding and a conductor who is sufficiently audacious (or mad) to undertake to conduct such a complex and demanding piece.

As I travel back from Birmingham after our rehearsal I reflect on those people who are prepared to take on something which others have not – or only rarely – dared.  The composer, in sharing his or her work, faces the unknown in terms of the response s/he may get – a response which may change over time.  What may seem mad to some inspires the admiration of others.  And at the time of creation there is no knowing what the life story of a piece may be, including the life-story of the composer’s own relationship with his or her work.

This is, of course, true for us all.  This has been amply illustrated this weekend as the demise of the News of the World follows revelations whose impact reverberates far beyond the empire of Rupert Murdoch.  It seems to me that many people have their hands dirty right now – the journalists who hacked phones, the leaders (Rebekah Brooks, Andy Coulson) on whose watch they acted, the police who took money in exchange for information, the police who decided not to investigate, David Cameron… the list goes on and on.  Our actions follow us long after we have taken them.

The response of some is to look around them, seeking to determine what will be acceptable and taking care to be above reproach.  This strategy is utterly exhausting and largely ineffective – with so many people out there and with such diverse views there is always a judge.  And still, it takes courage to do the best we know how in a given moment, knowing that those who set out to judge may have little or no understanding of our aims and intentions.  The more ambitious the aims, the more we expose ourselves to judgement, to possible failure and perhaps, worst of all, to insignificance.  We all want to make a difference.