I write on St Patrick's Day 2002, my first free day after adjudicating two of three weeks in the 54th Hong Kong Schools Music Festival, I write from a 21st floor window looking over Hong Kong Harbour, and I see Kowloon, the Cultural Centre and an Irish frigate here for St Patrick's Day, all twinkling in the night lights.

I donıt know how you normally celebrate St Patrick's Day, but I got a free bottle of wine from a real Irishman this year. The Music Festival gave each of the 22 adjudicators the choice of a free tour around Hong Kong, and I chose the Harbour cruise and Floating Chinese meal. With me, five other adjudicators chose the Harbour cruise, but then they went to the Revolving Western meal, so after the Harbour cruise we parted company, and for the floating Chinese meal, I found myself sitting between a retired barber from Palm Beach, Florida with whom I could talk about the home of Flagler's Railroad to Key West and his Royal Poinciana Chapel where I gave an organ recital last February, and an Irish rubber stamp manufacturer and his wife from Limerick, with whom I was able to converse about "Angela's Ashes" and "Tis" by Frank McCourt (set in Limerick) which I have just read. The Irishman paid for the wine!

Last Wednesday in the vast 1,500-seater Tuen Mun Town Hall (at one of the farthest outposts of the New Territories) came the pinnacle of my choral conducting career (Can you match this?). I conducted 1,000 kids in John Rutter's "For the beauty of the earth", in an unscheduled opportunity, prompted by my charming assistant, Debbie Tang, who thought all the choirs might like to sing the set piece together. Rudland's diffidence came to the fore, and after all the choirs were seated in the auditorium eagerly awaiting the result of my adjudication, I wasn't going to miss this, so I chose the best pianist (most of the others drowned the low notes!) and I said "Let's stand up, and do the set piece again, all together". 20 choirs of 60 each = 1,200 voices!

Later, I was disappointed with myself when another ten choirs all one after the other sang a B flat instead of a written B natural in bar 26 of John Rutter's "A Clare Benediction" in the Anthem, Singing in English Class, Age 14 and under. As each choir failed to notice the B natural, I got more and more angry, and after the final choir, I determined I would make them all stay behind afterwards until they sang it right. I had a microphone set up to speak from playing the piano, but in the end my courage failed, and I will forever feel guilty that 600 kids in Hong Kong will go through the rest of their lives, singing a B flat where John Rutter wanted a B natural. However, the day of the choirs finals was a far more uplifting experience. Unfortunately, no Clare Benedictions rose to that day, but the adjudications, delivered in the warm savoury tones of the Californian William Hatcher, made everyone feel as if they had won.

My most notable piano class was a "blood stopped play" performance in which an over confident teenager crucified the Chopin A flat Polonaise in a 100 seater hall, playing as if he was in the London Albert Hall or the Hollywood Bowl, and, as if he had gloves on! In a cascade of downward octaves, the fourth finger of his right hand hit the keys with such force that it descended leaving a trail of blood. He got up, sucked his finger, said he'd better stop, and left my assistant to clean up two octaves of blood, ready for a more sensitive Chopin Ballade, Op 47.

Later, one tiny seven-year old Grade Five pianist must have heard about this, and took no chances. He appeared in dress suit, dress shirt and black bow tie, dramatically produced a huge white feather duster from his pocket, and proceeded to wipe all the keys, as if clearing up all the contamination that any previous pianists may have left to desecrate his performance. From the top, he descended in about fifths at a time, until ceremoniously placing the duster on the lowest notes. The whole process took about as long as playing the set first movement of Thomas Arne's Sonata in A. The piano was a Bösendorfer Grand, and although he played impeccably, his tone was a little harsh, so I was not going to be intimidated by such flamboyant showmanship, and awarded first prize to a demure little girl who produced more warmth and restraint.

One winner of another class was less flamboyant but made an impression far beyond his Grade One status. After the statutory photo with his adjudicator, the winnerıs mother sat him at the piano (he couldn't get on the seat by himself), whereupon at least six more photographers appeared from nowhere and Toby Chan charismatically played the first C major prelude from the Bach 48, all from memory and exclusively beaming at each photographer in turn. The atmosphere was worthy of a Yo Yo Ma photo call.

Although I cannot beat Kenneth van Barthold's record of listening to 1,523 piano pieces, of which 180 were a Gurlitt Waltz (Op. 179, No 21 in F), my single record was only 66, for a Bartok Mikrokosmos (No. 114). After two hours of it, and only two pianists making the wrong notes sound like rights ones, I was ready to reject some entries, convinced that some children had already been before and were after a second chance! (What a pity all Chinese look the same!). For full orchestra, I've also had 15 Hungarian Dances (Brahms 6) and 4 Hungarian Marches (Berlioz), all 'cos I'm half Hungarian. The latter competition involved an 'own choice' piece as well, and was won by St Paul's College with a "Die Fledermaus" Overture conducted by Raymond Fu, choirmaster of the local St John's Cathedral. Before announcing the winner, I kept them all in suspense with a clue, saying I had conducted the winner's "own choice" piece with the English National Orchestra, after a friend had bid them £50 for my opportunity in a charity event. I said the orchestra tonight played it as well as they did, and afterwards their music director had signed my certificate "Batman could do no better". I later learnt that some did realise they'd won then, but I kept them in suspense further with more patter about the second and third prize winners, until the roar with my official announcement brought the roof down.

Of non Hungarian note : a Buddhist school choir singing "Alleluia to the Lord", a tear-jerking "Take these wings" from Don Besig (Do you know it - I am told he is an American John Rutter?), then a Government school choir who won with No 10 of Horovitz's "Captain Noah and his floating 200" (sic!), and an own choice Hymn Singing Class who won with a "Jesus loves me, the Bible tells me so", when I was crestfallen that a "What a friend I have in Jesus" backed out!

With 135,000 entries for every conceivable Western and Oriental instrument, I cannot but mention the capable and indefatigable Festivalıs Administrative Secretary, Mr Wai Sing Fat, whose nose in selecting performers, teachers and musical personalities from all over the world, created a 22-strong team of adjudicators that really gelled.

One photo I took will last in my abiding memory. It is of dozens of tiny five-year-olds sitting on a stage opposite a table of prizewinner's cups, all waiting to be won on the huge central lone grand piano. For me, it epitomises that the most impressive thing here, is that music matters.

Malcolm R

31 Hammerfield House, Cale Street, London SW3 3SG. Tel & Fax (44) 207 589 9595
e-mail: mrudland@talk21.com. Website: malcolmrudland.org