For someone who is, by my own admission, a great big show-off, I strongly believe singing is a private matter – something reserved for the shower or car. Of course, I’ll croon a little something to my kids, but they’re yet to develop a critical ear, so I’m counting that as a private performance too.
It wasn’t always this way. Not only did I participate in the usual childhood forms of enforced singing – school anthems, birthday songs, nursery rhymes – but both of my grandparents were heavily involved in musical theatre which, in my eight-year-old mind, was very cool and glamorous. Truly, you have not. As the next generation of this entertainment dynasty, it seemed inevitable that I’d sing – in choirs, concerts and eisteddfods, performing with groups both small and large. I even had a solo in my school’s performance of (I was an apostle…).
