EXCELSIOR - Treorchy Male Choir

EXCELSIOR 45
Sydney Opera House was the famous one – the largest of its kind in the
world. What an organ! I had to meet the organ tuner before I was allowed to
play it. I envisaged being told, “Don’t touch this...don’t play that”. There was
none of that, however. He was the most delightful and co-operative person,
having to battle his way through the same security regime in the Opera
House as everyone else and all he wanted to do was to show off his organ to
whoever wanted to play it. The poor man. He showed me around his organ
and stayed with me throughout the whole concert in case I collapsed out of
sheer wonder. There were humidifiers on inside the organ which produced a
slight mist. At the end of the concert he told me that when I played ‘Hen
Wlad y Nhadau’ I was so loud that the bellows sucked in all this mist and
nearly created a vaccuum. After everyone left the building and the Choir were
safely ensconsed in a local hostelry, the organ tuner’s mate turned up. They
showed me all around the inside of the organ – a far better experience than
drinking Australia’s amber nectar. I left at midnight and the pair of them
stayed inside the organ to tune it until 3.00am or until they became fed up.
On reaching the outside of the building I heard Jan’s voice shouting at me
across Sydney Harbour. Another memorable experience.
New Zealand was a refreshing place. It was a nice change to go by coach and
see the countryside. The terrain, I thought, was similar to Wales. The sheep
looked the same but I found the sight of billowing smoke coming from volcanoes
most unnerving. I felt safer seeing smoke coming from the chimney
stacks of Port Talbot.
As you know by now, whilst on the tour I had the sad news of my mother’s
passing. It was on the 28th May. We came off the stage of the Costa Hall in
Geelong and my brother phoned me. I sat in my dressing room in deep
thought. My mother had been in her own world for the last six months and
did not know who I was. Nevertheless, my plan was to spend some time with
her in the nursing home before coming on the tour. I never managed it. Both
my mother and my father, who had passed away the year before, would have
been so proud of me going on this tour with the Choir they regarded as being
in the top league. The name of Treorchy was often mentioned in our household
when I was young. John Davies, Treorchy – a highly revered man – often
conducted the annual Gymanfa Ganu at our chapel. Treorchy was a far away
place in those days and so his arrival was a much trumpeted affair.
My parents came to almost every concert I gave which, in the latter years,
became a huge effort. They did not want to miss any, however, as they derived
great pleasure and satisfaction from my playing. If it had not been for the sacrifices
they made you would certainly not be reading this now. They would