Letter: George Hurst defying adversity

When I was an art student in the early 1960s, I went to rehearsals and a broadcast performance of Berlioz's Grande Messe des Morts, conducted by George Hurst in Liverpool's Anglican Cathedral. The vast numbers involved, the bitter cold and the awful acoustics posed fearsome problems. The echo meant that all the pauses had to be extended before recommencing, and many of the musicians brought hot water bottles to combat the chill. Hurst placed what appeared to be a large white sweet next to his score and asked: "Do you all see this? It is a cyanide pill, and if things don't get any better, I shall take it." Needless to say, the performance was magnificent.