A few weeks ago. I usually sing alto at choir practice but recently I’ve been trying to explore my voice. It’s helping to keep me going dispite the Parkinsons disease and shortness of breath. Sometimes I sing up higher, as a slightly squeeky soprano, and also as in this photo as a bass if they are short of singers. Here me and the only bass singer that night were trying not to be distracted by the altos tune which was very similar. My friend was laughing at us and took this photo of us trying to avoid hearing the other tune.
Hubby played a prophet in one of the Mystery Plays a few years ago. It was outside but his big booming voice could be heard by the audience sitting on the green. He could project his voice over the traffic noise. If he had been bought up in a more middle class environment I’m sure he would have been an actor. But mental health meant he struggled to remember all his words. We also did the local amateur panto together. He got a pretend Oscar one year for most enthusiastic entrance (or something like that). He was a marvellous, memorable man.
Tonight I went to choir, I was tired and had been to the doctors for tests, I was OK but it had wound me up. Singing helps calm my mind, helps me relax, and make me concentrate where usually in the day I’m struggling to.
When I got there I found that there was one soprano and several altos so I decided to have a go at some of the higher parts. I surprised and survived the experience. I’m really glad I tried, I stretched up to some top notes I’ve not managed before. In the end I got a bit of a sore throat but a lot of enjoyment. It also boosted my confidence. I think everyone should try singing.
Do you sing for pleasure, to earn money, to learn something new? Or for mental or physical health?
Singing is good for lung health. It can strengthen both your lungs, chest muscles and help improve your voice. It helps with breathing and can help control your worries. I’ve found it helpful with controlling anxiety. It doesn’t cure it, but it calms it. Yes you could get stage fright, but singing with a choir helps because you are singing with others and that supports all the participants. You learn together and grow together. After about 20 years of singing with the group we sound pretty good. New people join and the group changes, but we all enjoy going or we wouldn’t be there
Some songs are earworms, rolling round and round in your head. Others are hard to pick up. We sometimes drop a tone or sing flat. It’s hard as a low singer to hit the high notes. Some songs are really annoying, but others in the group love them. But as we are all different then we all like a variety of music. Participating is good for you. I’d recommend it to anyone.
My hubby was born in the year that Welsh poet Dylan Thomas died and he was always admiring of Dylans poetry. Hubby had a wonderfully strong speaking voice, and I know there are cassette tapes somewhere in the house of him reciting Dylans poetry and short stories.
When we first met he played me “the burning baby”, a macabre story by Thomas that sent shivers down my back and raised goosebumps on my arms. It was mesmerising to listen to hubby read it, and he howled at the end with gusto. I think he should have been on the radio as a performer.
I just came in from shopping and suddenly the poem “Do not go gentle” by Dylan Thomas came into my memory. I’ve looked it up and copied it. It was read out by a friend at my hubbies celebration of his life. He had always loved it and I hope he would have been pleased that it was performed.
Do not go gentle into that good night, Old age should burn and rave at close of day; Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight, And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way, Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height, Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
If you can, try and listen to a recording of Dylan Thomas reading it. X
Home I hear the accent of a fellow midlander and I’m home again. There’s a twang, a sound that I recognise. I tentatively ask them if they will say where they are from. Usually I get a friendly response. Then we discuss where we come from. Either the same town or close by. Memories of town centres, historic areas, parks and zoos. So many things have changed. But hearing a friendly voice takes me back over 40 years to when I left. I can’t go back, my family has all left, homes sold. Only a couple of relatives and friends left and I can’t drive far so it’s out of the question to go. But I’d like to drive down on a nostalgic trip. Some negotiation with friends required as I couldn’t get on a train on my own I don’t think. Anxiety is not a good friend.
I was with a friend on a training course once. We were in a hall with a piano and she decided to play. I started singing along, ‘Somewhere over the rainbow’.
Part way through another friend came in and complimented my friend for her singing, assuming that it had been her voice not mine. She pointed out it was me. He said something like, ‘oh I didn’t realise you could sing like that!’ and ‘you were very good!’. I wasn’t sure how to take it. Should singers look a certain way? But I think it was the best compliment because he judged it on my voice, not my appearance.
I’ve been using the free image option here, but I think you have to be very specific about what you put in the search bar! I typed in “sore throat” and got this blue and yellow parrot! Whether it’s because they are loud are shout or squalk a lot? I don’t know!
Anyway I’m a bit under the weather, I have suddenly developed a sore throat and I’m aching. I hope it won’t last. I’ve been asleep for most of the day. Anyway that’s all I’ve got to say. Croak! My voice is very growly…
After a couple of weeks off I went back to choir practice tonight. I still have a tickly cough and every time I tried to sing with any volume it set it off. It’s annoying because it’s hard to harmonise with a growly voice! It was throwing it down with rain, but there was a good attendance there. The first thing that happened though was I shook my hands because they were wet from the rain running down them from my coat, and the three rings on my right little finger shot off my hand and into a dark corner. I wouldn’t have realised that it had happened but they twinkled as they fell. Luckily the choir leader had a torch so I found them with a couple of other choir members help. I’ve lost weight and my fingers have got a bit thinner. Anyway, despite the problem with losing my rings, and the croaky voice, I’m glad I went out. It’s such a nice atmosphere there.
A loud beeping then ‘attention fire’ ‘attention fire’!
First I thought the fridge alarm was going off until the voice started. Then I remembered we had replaced our old smoke alarm because it had started to beep every five minutes even when we changed the battery.
So where was the fire? No sign, not a sniff or sight of smoke. No hot spots, I’d turned off the heater, the lights were mostly out. The kitchen door was shut and I’d only had the kettle on for a cup of decaff coffee.
What could have set it off? I wonder if a spider has moved in? I stayed awake till 7am waiting for it to go off again. No smoke without fire? So tired! Be alarmed, be very alarmed!
Mallaband-Brown 