I knew it wasn’t a normal phone call. A man was asking if I could sing at a wedding he was organising. It was in 2000.
Only a few years before, I’d become one of the first female priests ordained in the Church of England. There had been a lot of press coverage – positive and negative. For a time, it seemed I was the public face of the controversy around female priests and I didn’t like it.
What piqued my interest was that the man I was speaking to wouldn’t tell me who was getting married, just that it was very high-profile. I was intrigued, but it was the run-up to Christmas and I knew I’d be busy, so I said no. The organiser persevered.
Apparently this celebrity had heard me singing at St Paul’s Cathedral when she had attended a service that year. She liked what she heard and wanted me as the only singer at her wedding. Before being ordained, I’d trained as a professional soprano.
I insisted on knowing who it was before I committed. The caller wouldn’t say the name on the phone – he arranged to meet me in the City of London. Hours after our call, we met in a sidestreet, with business people hurrying past.
He was clearly nervous. “You know there’s this high-profile wedding coming up?” he said. He thought I must have guessed.
“No?” I replied. “Who is it?” “Madonna,” he replied very quietly, as if he was passing on a state secret. I was gobsmacked.
I’m not very into pop culture, so I hadn’t expected to have heard of the celebrity. But e.
