Not many people look at me, with my long hair and scruffy clothes and consider that I might be a singer. Whenever it comes up in conversation with a new acquaintance the inevitable question is, ' What band are you in? ' From there on in the conversation usually snakes back to my time spent at The Guildhall School of Music and Drama in London studying classical singing, at which point thinly veiled disinterest generaly turns to great enthusiasm, as they deduce that I might actually be some good. Of course attending a world-class conservatoire means nothing eight years on, but it remains handy for getting people's attention!
One large feature of my life is its huge variety and another is the constant struggle to keep the disparate strands strong and somehow bound together. It would be far too easy just to submerge myself in the day-to-day work and pleasures of country life but that would be a great loss. Singing, writing and poetry are the means by which I step outside my everyday experience not only to inject vital contrast but also to achieve fresh perspective. Although singing is not at the centre of everything which I do (a statement which adequately explains why I never became a full-time professional) I none-the-less have everything to thank it for. It was during my time at music college that Em and I fell in love and although physically my life might have turned out the same without her, I would have been a different person, unable to appreciate the beauty about me or the subtleties within myself, for these are gifts only afforded to the contented soul.
Dinner
Pigeon and pheasant cooked in cider served with roast squash and cabbage with bacon and chestnuts followed by apple pie and butterscotch custard (again). Good friends D and G (not the fashion house, though G in particular is a very natty dresser) came round to practise for a forthcoming concert. Predictably more time was spent eating and enjoying their fantastic grape and rosehip wine than was ever spent around the piano.
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