Donny Osmond

After yesterday’s post about Eton it’s Winchester’s turn. I was at a dinner at my club last week at which entertainment was provided by close-harmony sextet, Cantores Episcopi. Two of them are still at Winchester and the others have left recently; at least three of them are in the picture.

Before you ask, Cantores Episcopi means bishop’s singers. Perversely the Dean came as their chaperone but they did sing, very beautifully, Grace so that made up for His Grace. Digression: when the Primate of All Ireland came to do something in Dunleer church my grandfather – a Catholic – was winding us up by rehearsing “will you say Grace, Your Grace? I just hope I don’t call him Grace”. I think that was the occasion my mother had pre-cooked a stew for lunch. Unfortunately a rat had had a go at it in the pantry before it could be heated up for the Archbishop. What to do? My mother rose to the occasion, instructing the addition of curry powder and calling it Beef Marsala.

The Winchester choir boys kicked off with a Beach Boys number and then did super stuff by Cole Porter, Billy Joel, etc. It was highly enjoyable and I could have listened to more – but that’s the secret – stop while your audience still wants more.

The next morning I walked past the Hammersmith Apollo and saw that Donny Osmond is having a gig. Gosh, I thought he was dead which is uncharitable as, actually, he is younger than me. But I also realised that one of the Winchester singers looked like him – mop of black hair and cherubic face – but the Winchester boy sang beautifully and, along with the rest of the sextet, had good stage presence; the Osmond Bros will make your toes curl.