Love will see us through...

Before last December, less than a year ago,  I only sung in the house, or in church at weddings or carols at Christmas. But now singing is part of my life. 

I am in a choir I tell a friend when she asks what I am up to...

Wow I didn't know that  she says

I have always wanted to sing, always muttered about doing something about it but it took my recent Breast Cancer storm to push me through the door of one of  Liz Martin's amazing Choirs. 

Singing is like a medicine. A course of rehabilitation. A life line. I rarely stop grinning at choir unless I am wiping a tear from my eye,  moved by a song or words.

Last week as we sang Hold On. Love will see you through. tears ran down my cheeks as I struggled to gulp back a sob. 

My Mr H has held on, stuck with me. Our love for each other sees us through the roller coaster of our life. One day I will be able to sing Hold On without tears. Sometime. Some day.

On Sunday I joined in a day of singing to raise essential funds for Wotton Arts Centre, in St Kenelm a beautifully simple Georgian Church. Mr H took me and sat in the traditional pews to listen for the first time. The sound of our harmonious voices wafted around the terracotta walls and seeped into souls as we sang the day away

I had to look at the ceiling when we sang Hold On. One peek at Mr H's face and I would have been a sobbing, spluttering mess. He knew though that I sang the song to him.

Some of the songs made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck he said as we left.  I knew the choir would be good but not THAT good!

Music speaks what cannot be expressed

soothes the mind and gives it rest

heals the heart and makes it whole

flows from heaven to the soul

Why not make a cup of tea and enjoy listening to a recording of our concert in February...

Paint the sky blue

Cancer has taught me that sometimes in life you can't wait for the good weather, you have to jump in and paint the sky blue.

I have one stab

One go at it

No time to wait for 'tomorrows'

So in December, on a grey Friday, I stepped through the Choir room door for the first time. When Liz, our leader, announced the lists were out for the ChoirFest at St Georges, I walked over and added my name...

Seven choir practices until the big day, and the Alto part to learn for three new songs. 

No word sheets are allowed up on stage Liz says, so learn them Ladies and Gents...

In practice I sing myself inside out, words in hand, head hung to read. Then one of the ladies says songs are easier to learn by listening and absorbing, read over the words at home but not while we sing...

sort of like osmosis I say with raised eyebrows as she smiles her yes in reply. So I buy a digital recorder and record us in full force then press play back at home and sing to heaven. Mr H wanders around humming the tunes and picking out some of the chorus he has absorbed! 

Mr H drops me off for the coach. A gent offers his hand to help me on and some lovely ladies save me a downstairs seat. As we clamber off, my bag, full of bottled water and a healthy cancer fighting lunch, is whisked out of my hand by a bubbly group member for the few steps uphill to the majestic old Church. The same lady finds me a seat and fetches me coffee as we excitedly munch on our lunch. The auditorium doors open and a flurry of coat carrying figures dressed in grey, black and white with  peeking red flashes, bustle through to save us seats together. So to admiring glances, I pin a red flower to my hair... 


No eating in the auditorium we are told but I nibble on a banana, pumpkin seeds, a few nuts and sultanas which I wash down with endless slurps of water to battle my relentless fatigue. I whisper to my bubbly companion not to worry if I go quiet, I zone out and meditate for a few minutes even when surrounded by noise I tell her...

During the afternoon's two BIG SINGS I am one of 500 to learn six new songs. Then like Willy Wonka's Chocloate factory we blow the roof off. 

By the evening I am struggling to put one foot in front of the other and my head is buzzing like bees in a hive so I call Mr H to rescue me after our slot in the concert; we are first. Then I dig deep to release my last shreds of energy. 

I stand on the stage amongst 120 members of Liz's five 'Community Voices' choirs brought together for the day. Liz, with her dark hair also adorned with a red flower, glitters from the inside in her flowing silver coat.

Liz raises her hands...My heart beat roars and my eyes fill with tears as I open my mouth and sing...

High flying doves, please lead me and I'll follow you....

At home when my body falls asleep my head still sings.. 

Only remembered, only remembered, 
only remembered for what we have done...

In case you are interested we sang:
The Olive Tree by Tom Springfield/ Diane Lampert arr.David Weaver
Only Remembered by Music: Ira Sankey,1891/Words: Horatio Bonar  (now widely recognised from the War Horse)
Jazz Gloria by Anon!

I cant wait to get my hands on the CD of the day!

What would you do to paint your sky blue?

Life - Use the whole box of crayons...

That's not grey hair I tell everyone I see, I use a white crayon. 

I am greeted each morning with a black and white smile and for the first time in 7 months I woke with a few hairs out of synch. 'Jane' my sandy blond wig is now back in her box. But I have enjoyed my hair holiday, away from brushes and combs, getting showered and dressed then popping Jane or a multi coloured hat over my shivering head...

I have splashed out on colour for my new swimming costume too so it's blue like the sea. It has a pocket at the front to store my new silicone boob! 

When I emptied out my swimming bag, a musty towel went in the wash, rotten Zogg pool socks are now in the bin.and my toiletries refreshed. Today I shall dip my toe in the warm water of the baby pool a year after my last dippy dip!





I used a new crayon and Tamed another Tiger last week. I joined a Community Voices Acapella singing group and when I walked out the door after my first visit my heart was singing as much as my voice. The room was full of characters who use the whole box of crayons to brighten their lives.

But the black crayon keeps making its mark. A recent bone scan due to new hip pain did not rule out bone metastases so now I wait for an MRI scan and hope that it is degeneration not more bright red big C...

Make the most of the life that you have and use the whole box of crayons