Fa-la-la-la-la

On Monday, the Mixed Chorus and I performed for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols. It took place in a giant theatre that glittered with lights and had acoustics so perfect that a man in the back row couldn't pass wind without the conductor on the stage hearing it.
My voice remained out of order right up the point where I was supposed to sing, and then, suddenly, I could. Not well, and probably not even on key, but I could sing, and so I did. It made me feel a whole lot better - I felt less like a fraud (like I did when we performed at the United Church before) by lipsyncing, and when I get the Christmas CD I'll know for sure that one of the two hundred voices is mine.
Mum, Dad, Nana and Papa loved the show. Mum wants to go next year, even if I'm no longer in the Chorus, although she's vowed to arrive earlier next time. She and Dad arrived fifteen minutes before the show, but since it's general admission, they were relegated to the fourth, and highest balcony. From the stage, it seems to high up it almost appears as if it's leaning forward, balanced only precariously on top of the third balcony. My mother was so terrified by the heights that she had to hold her program in front of her face to hide the gap but still look at the stage.
Still it was a wonderful show. The handbell ringer show was most entertaining. The sound of the bells is okay, but most of the fun comes from watching the male ringers, who have to ring the largest and most awkward of bells. Since the largest four are bigger than a man's head, ringing them is not a graceful affair - I mean it should be an Olympic sport. They can only ring them by lunging the arm right from the shoulder, and then they have to put it down quickly (and gently) and leap for another bell to ring it just in time. One man moved so frantically he tore his music book.
So, I had a good time, my parents had a good time, and I'm getting better. I can talk now, although I've developed a cough. But I don't really worry anymore, the Big Concert is over.