Dyce is short for Dyson – son of David. Dilwyn is . . . well, just Dilwyn. Darren is sadly no longer with us.
Dyceʼs music career began after a flyer for evening classes dropped through the letter box. It included singing lessons. Dyce, in his late forties, wondered at a vague itch that singing might scratch and the venue was just up the road at The High School and he was free on the advertised nights.
Unsurprisingly, something got in the way of signing on and he was two weeks late starting. Worried that it might be oversubscribed he made an effort to be early. Eventually eight people turned up, barely enough to justify the class. Then a sweating short fat bald guy in a suit appeared with a brief case and sat at the piano.
There were four women and four men in the class. At coffee-time Dyce learned from two of the men that the short fat guy at the piano was called Dilwyn. A retired tenor who made a living teaching and after-dinner speaking and drank enough in the local pub to get known. One late Friday night, two or three years previously, several of his fellow topers had suggested a choir. Presumably they thought they could sing, but most red-blooded males think that on a late Friday night.
The two men were members of Dilwynʼs choir. Heʼd press-ganged them into making up the evening class numbers. Presumably they could already sing – at least they would know what section they were in.
The rest of the group sang as best they could. Nothing complicated and the coaching was patient. Pieces like ʻSkye Boat Songʼand ʻThe Ash Groveʼ. In a room that smelled sweeter than the corridors. Bits of metal music stands cluttered the corners. The blackboard went round on rollers and had white lines you could write notes on.
ʻWhy donʼt you come along,ʼ said Dilwynʼs men.
Darren had. A bearded soul who repaired washing machines and was married to one of the women. Both had rich low voices. Dyce wasnʼt sure and left it to the last week of the final term before asking Dilwyn who said to give it a go. Practices were on Tuesday nights.
Dyce didnʼt sign on for the class again. Later, he gathered that it had barely limped along, a small boost to Dilwynʼs income. But, before it folded, one or two of the ladies had moved on to choirs.
