A true story this....
Many years ago, I went to school with a boy named Simon Plaza Garaje who had a prodigious talent for playing the Hammond Organ. He would frequently be invited to perform at our morning services in the gymnasium; an event that would always be a welcome diversion from listening to the headmaster's cricketing anecdotes.
We always had an idea that he was going to play when we filed into the gym and saw that the curtains were drawn across the stage. This would later be confirmed when, through the window, we saw his organ being pulled by his father. He had attached a set of pram wheels to the base of it to allow him to hitch it onto the back of his Vauxhall Ventora and tow it along behind him.
At this point, a huge cheer would always go up. Then, after prayers had been said, the curtains would be pulled back and there would be Simon on stage bashing away.
He had adpopted a similar style of play to that of the pianist Bobby Crush - frequently looking up from the keyboard and flashing a brilliantine smile at his audience. He also knew all the Reginald Dixon classics from the Blackpool Tower and won Young Entertainer of the Year on Crackerjack.
So, imagine my surprise when Malc and I were invited by our friend Cyril to join him at his local church down in the Piddle Valley in Dorset for last Sunday's morning service.
As we sat in our pews waiting for the service to begin, we were suddenly made aware of a mechanical whirring sound coming from the bowels of the chuch and up through the floor on a revolving platform appeared a familiar looking Hammond organ. And there he was flashing his trademark smile, Simon Plaza Garaje. (We later learned that Simon now wears dentures; a lifelong penchant for Spanish Gold candy tobacco had evidentally taken its toll).
Having lost none of his thirst for fun and games, he had us all engaged in a game of "musical pews" as the vicar processed from the vestry with the choir and he frequently hit the Fox Trot button as we worked our way through the morning's hymns.
Then at the end of the service, Simon left his stool and circulated among the congregation with the collection box announcing that today's collection would be a "silent collection" - "Notes only please as the sound of jingling coins disturbs those in prayer!"
He confided that he frequently collected several hundred pounds at Matins but when I asked him why the church roof was still in such bad disrepair he became shifty and quickly made off; obviously conscientious that his presence was required back at the keyboard to play a rabble rousing rendition of Kumbaya as we all filed out behind the vicar & that was the last we saw of him. Nonetheless, one of life's great characters.
Many years ago, I went to school with a boy named Simon Plaza Garaje who had a prodigious talent for playing the Hammond Organ. He would frequently be invited to perform at our morning services in the gymnasium; an event that would always be a welcome diversion from listening to the headmaster's cricketing anecdotes.
We always had an idea that he was going to play when we filed into the gym and saw that the curtains were drawn across the stage. This would later be confirmed when, through the window, we saw his organ being pulled by his father. He had attached a set of pram wheels to the base of it to allow him to hitch it onto the back of his Vauxhall Ventora and tow it along behind him.
At this point, a huge cheer would always go up. Then, after prayers had been said, the curtains would be pulled back and there would be Simon on stage bashing away.
He had adpopted a similar style of play to that of the pianist Bobby Crush - frequently looking up from the keyboard and flashing a brilliantine smile at his audience. He also knew all the Reginald Dixon classics from the Blackpool Tower and won Young Entertainer of the Year on Crackerjack.
So, imagine my surprise when Malc and I were invited by our friend Cyril to join him at his local church down in the Piddle Valley in Dorset for last Sunday's morning service.
As we sat in our pews waiting for the service to begin, we were suddenly made aware of a mechanical whirring sound coming from the bowels of the chuch and up through the floor on a revolving platform appeared a familiar looking Hammond organ. And there he was flashing his trademark smile, Simon Plaza Garaje. (We later learned that Simon now wears dentures; a lifelong penchant for Spanish Gold candy tobacco had evidentally taken its toll).
Having lost none of his thirst for fun and games, he had us all engaged in a game of "musical pews" as the vicar processed from the vestry with the choir and he frequently hit the Fox Trot button as we worked our way through the morning's hymns.
Then at the end of the service, Simon left his stool and circulated among the congregation with the collection box announcing that today's collection would be a "silent collection" - "Notes only please as the sound of jingling coins disturbs those in prayer!"
He confided that he frequently collected several hundred pounds at Matins but when I asked him why the church roof was still in such bad disrepair he became shifty and quickly made off; obviously conscientious that his presence was required back at the keyboard to play a rabble rousing rendition of Kumbaya as we all filed out behind the vicar & that was the last we saw of him. Nonetheless, one of life's great characters.
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