<<  -- 8 --  Adrian Williams    JOHN RUSSELL FRCM (1916-1990)

Then in the quietness of a summer's night on the balcony at Ben's Folly, Margaret with quilt and futon outside their bedroom, and a little way along the balcony me with mine, both of us sipping Bournvita under the stars. Then in the early morning the crowing of the cockerel, Margaret descending the creaking stairs to let out and feed the chickens, dew like silk on my pillow. Breakfast of meusli, chopped fruit and yoghurt, maybe a new-laid egg, boiled.

And on a Sunday morning down to St James's in Reading for the Latin Mass. John's Catholic faith, sparked off by his friend the baritone Owen Brannigan, was a constant source of solace to him, and I loved to watch and listen to him stewing the Missa de Angelis plainsong into romantic mush with his adoring little group of singers up in the choir loft. Then after Mass an alcoholic introduction to the priest.

We usually arrived home some time after Margaret, who had been to her Sunday Quaker meeting. Catholic and Quaker -- living more-or-less in acceptance of each other in the same house, occasional teasing between the two.

Margaret's Quaker leanings suited her well, a skinny, bony, once beautiful lady bred from a well-to-do family, still beautiful at times, matured into a keen gardener and green-thinker. We enjoyed endless discourses about ecological issues, my uncompromising youth tempered by her life's wisdom, her conversation calm and her responses considered.

Somehow the lengthy stretches of piano practise and memorising, broken by these glorious distractions brought me to the point of readiness with my recital programme.

John was always close to tears at the swelling of the big melody at the end of the Bax sonata; following his reactions enabled me to know how to pace this section. I knew when I had hit the mark. I always played on the Broadwood, which I believe had been in Margaret's family, so much more mellow than the grand.

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