Trust us to get stuck with a warbler...

[sawyl]

From Nicola Upson's The Death of Lucy Kyte, Josephine and Marta attend harvest festival at the Polstead parish church:

"Trust us to get stuck with a warbler," she whispered as the woman in the pew behind found her stride. Marta's snort earned them a glare from a couple on the other side of the aisle and a nervous smile from Hilary, and as they reached the chorus Josephine marvelled at the number of syllables that the word "love" could have in the wrong hands. The singer built to a crescendo and the hymn struggled to keep up, and Josephine could feel the muscles in her own throat straining in sympathy. She tried to control her laughter by imagining a face to go with the voice, but the tears ran helplessly down onto her hymn book, smudging the worlds that she did not trust herself to sing. Next to her, she could feel Marta's shoulders heaving but she dared not meet her eye.

Which almost precisely mirrors my church-going experiences, with my great aunt standing in for the warbler and pater standing in for the friend who can't keep a straight face...

ETA: On consideration I can't help but think that the Warbler, whose face Josephine fails to see, is going to turn out to be a Significant Player in the drama.