The organist is practicing in the nave as I walk through, back to my office. I've just confirmed that the alarm is still screaming away in the basement of the new building. "Hellooo, Jeremy" says Yaroslav, the groundskeeper, who is cleaning the church.
"Hi Yaroslav. How are you?"
"My position is better than you," he tells me in his thick Russian accent.
"Sorry?" I'm confused.
"My position is better than you!" He raises his arms a little and the trash bags he is holding, gesturing toward the organ, smiling. "Always music!"