Fordyce Maxwell: Whether the occasion is happy or sad it's up to us to put oomph into hymns I AM PROBABLY in the same position as many atheists, agnostics, and lukewarm Christians who only go to church for weddings and funerals, but when there try to contribute by singing, if not praying. Whether the occasion is happy or sad it's up to us to put some oomph into the hymns. But results are mixed when I do, with A+ for volume, C- for tunefulness. So the dilemma is to try to encourage others by belting out Love Divine, the 23rd Psalm or Morning Has Broken, or mutter and mime. Belted out, I risk heads turning rows away to see who's in pain, or toddlers starting to cry. If I coast, I realise how few others now make a contribution, even with what used to be well-known hymns. For more difficult tunes and complicated words, the effect produced by a struggling congregation is dire, recalling the man in tears at a party as The Northern Lights was sung. "Ah," someone said sympathetically, "are you frae Aberdeen?" "No," he sobbed, "I'm a music lover." That was the sort of party, before karaoke, when there would usually be one local star, possibly two, to carry the evening, but with others expected to do a turn. Hard to believe now, and for suffering listeners probably unbelievable then, but I had two party pieces - Paddy McGinty's Goat and Delaney's Donkey. Yes, Val Doonican has a lot to answer for. My theory was that with a couple of warm-up jokes, some accompanying actions and if the audience's critical faculties were not at their sharpest by the time my turn came, I could just about get away with it. I usually did, but since then I've only ever taken part in communal singing, as in church, football buses - only if we'd won, of course - children's carol concerts, times when an audience has been encouraged to accompany stage performers, and an occasional Auld Lang Syne when I look as comfortable as the Queen did at the Millennium Dome party. I've never been tempted to chant at football matches, partly because I don't know the words and when I do, don't approve, but mainly because when your club's average attendance of 320 is spread along the seats and terraces it's more like relaying messages than mass singing. That leaves a sing along, and alone, in the car to favourite CDs, and the shower. That's good. Shower acoustics make my voice sound better than it is and my penchant for knowing only a line or two from a song chimes perfectly with my belief that more than two minutes in a shower is time wasted. And Liz is always appreciative.