Rictor Noren on January 16, 2013
Before I was old enough to harness the power to adjust the egg timer that sat in judgment over my daily organ practice (my mother had a poor sense of time), I slavishly divided my attention between “The little brown church in the vale” and the tick, tick, tick of the 30 minutes which, to a five year-old, seemed an eternity.
Before I was old enough to harness the power to adjust the egg timer that sat in judgment over my daily organ practice (my mother had a poor sense of time), I slavishly divided my attention between “The little brown church in the vale” and the tick, tick, tick of the 30 minutes which, to a five year-old, seemed an eternity.