Come on England!
Why is the quality of singing in English churches so unpredictable? On one Sunday morning, I can have mediocre musical accompaniment with a couple of singers with colds, and the congregation sings like the Telstra stadium at the end of the World Cup in Sydney.
The next Sunday morning I can pull out all the stops musically, stick some tub-thumping tunes on the sheet, and the singing sounds like Twickenham would if England ever lost a rugby match against Germany.