No Added Sugar

Tonight, gentle reader, was the new season's first rehearsal of 'No Added Sugar', a choir of now mainly adult voices and mine (the students of Teesdale School in Barmy Castille no longer being paid for by David 'We're All in the Choir Together' Cameron). We met, as arranged and booked in the Scarth Hall, Staindrop, at 7pm, for our 90 minute rehearsal, bright eyed, bushy tailed and in superb voice, only to find that we were to be booted out at 7.30 by something called the Zumba Class which, village Politics decreed, has always met then and there and it Could Not Be Altered.

So (if you are still reading this, ignore it if you aren't) our wonderfully multi-talented Choir Mistress Jane Ford taught us to sing  a rousing Nowell in a Beer Garden sort of song, and we then repaired to the Wheatsheaf to carry out further research and practice, with different words coming to mind.

Back at the Scarf 'All, the She Canon had entered the premises with that bemused expression which she wears when she thinks she is in the wrong place on the right day, or the right place on the wrong day, and was gently diverted by Ms Ford to the Upper Room where Deanery Synod in all its Glory was convening. Crisis alerted.

Note the name, (chosen from the back of a cereal packet): No Added Sugar. We have sung with Inter Opera, we have sung with Concordia, we have had many gigs, we sing a variety of music from Madrigals, to Baroque, Sacred, Popular, You Name It. We have bookings with the Staindrop Fifties and Sixties and at the Bowes Museum, and our diary is full for the next six months. When we are famous - we are already infamous - remember that you saw it here first.