It's all a question of four-part harmony, you know

I have to admit that I've started singing again. And why not? It's a harmless activity that costs nothing, and isn't as bad as it sounds.

I'd been feeling the urge for quite a while, so I quietly slipped back into the august ranks of mes amis de Deux Pics En Choeur. They're a stalwart and cheery bunch who make up for, with warm-hearted good humour, any occasional frayed-ness at the edge-ness that may creep in technically.

Actually I can't now recall any good reason why I stopped going to choir in the first place, because after only a few weeks back in the fold, all is as it ever was.

As always, each rehearsal before a gig is an unmitigated disaster, and as always, the gig mysteriously comes out alright on the night. Our sopranos still possess their unique ability to drift down by a semi-tone and a bit, thus eviscerating the harmony. I never have worked out quite how they do this, but this sacred skill continues to be handed down, yea even unto the seventh generation.

Our regular suspects hail from all over the haute vallée. Most are still wanted by the gendarmes for cruelty to decibels. We're mostly French with a sprinking of English, German, Dutch, Danish, and my old mate Stan, cellist extraordinaire, representing the Nicedays Murca.

The choir has a nicely varied repertoire of our local traditional occitan music, chanson française and negro spirituals. I'm glad to report that an unfortunate infiltration of Andrew Lloyd Webber has been surgically removed from the programme during my absence.

Instead, we're learning some gorgeous Renaissance riffs by one Orlando di Lasso. These harmonies really are sublime. It's truly amazing just what you can do by means of the deft manipulation of a floating C sharp. Nearly 500 years old and so cool it's not true.

I suppose that all sounds a bit anorak. But basically, if these sounds don't make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, you may well possess all the musical sensitivity of an autistic house brick.