Did not find the Huddersfield Choral, but did find Derek from Burnley on my right and Mike from the City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus behind me, writes David Ward.
Both can count and sing. Even better, both can count and sing at the same time.
There are about 700 of us: fear and football may have kept the other 300 away. In Spem In Alium, each of the eight choirs enters one by one, with the basses of choir eight having nothing to do for ages (they could be hanging around doing their knitting for all I know) before they create that moment when all the voices sing together for the first time.
But the whole thing begins with the altos of choir one, who come in with impressive confidence. Altos seldom have much fun but this lot are making the most of it. They are followed by the sopranos, baritones and tenors.
Time for a deep breath. We basses come in at the right place and suddenly that choral miracle happens: individuals meld into a cohesive group. Bit unsteady, bit uncertain, but the piece is on its way.
And the final chord on the final syllable of the final word is neck-hair raising as it floats round the Bridgewater Hall, heading first for the organ on the platform, doubling back over the tiny lights in the roof and then dissipating somewhere up in the gallery. It's an amazing moment and I forget to keep singing.
The conductor, David Lawrence, does not look as worried as I think he should in the circumstances. His faith in us is touching, and I hope it will be rewarded.
After a break, we are joined by choirs three and four and begin to get some idea of how the piece sticks together. The basses of choir one suffer moments of internal conflict, with one faction speeding ahead of another. Things get particularly tricky around bar 71, where we have both some off-beat stuff and a dodgy page-turn. Cautious negotiations eventually reconcile the discord.
At lunchtime choirs five to eight have been brought in from a neighbouring hotel and are being put through their paces, the sound leaching out into the foyer as the rest of us sit and eat.
Their Tallis is drowned by a raucous God Save the Queen from a bar close by. Then a roar: England appear to have scored.
