"Choral Therapy"

I am 20 minutes late for community choir, because I have been standing some distance away from the practice hall trying to establish precisely what has happened to one of my friends over the past 24 hours.

The indications are not encouraging, but having concluded that there is nothing more I can do at that particular moment, I sidle into the hall as a song draws to its close.

Choir Mistress gives me a little wave, and I sit down in between a delightful German woman and a charming retired lady, both of whom always greet me with touching warmth.

The choir is readying itself for a Big Event - singing outside City Hall in the company of 30+ other community choirs from across London. It sounds like fabulous fun, so I am gutted that I will be away from London that weekend and won't get the chance to join in. Nevertheless, I still go along to rehearsals every week, just to join in and learn all the songs.

I have a lot on my mind tonight, so it is glorious to just relax, take things easy, and SING !

We launch into "California Dreaming" in close four part harmony (one of our best numbers...) and I start thinking about Husband, who spent his boyhood growing up in a Scottish town, listening to "Are You Going To San Francisco?" over and over again, dreaming of the day he would visit America and all the other places he heard about in songs.

But usually I don't tend to think about very much when we are singing.

I only think about how many times we are supposed to sing the refrain of the Nigerian lullaby before we start singing the next verse. I think about how we are meant to be syncopating the twiddly bit in the middle of the weirdy song with words by Gerard Manley Hopkins. I think about how the sopranos are only meant to rise in pitch by half a note during the tricky Georgian chant (the one which Choir Mistress tells us is all about "a vine turning towards the sunlight"...)

- I don't think about my problematic neighbour
- I don't think about the people falling off the wagon with very loud clunks
- I don't think about how I can possibly afford to buy a new laptop
- And I certainly don't think about the ghastly goings-on at work.

Which makes being at choir rehearsals absolutely bloody marvellous.