I woke up early on 6th September, dishevelled and sleepy with a bubble of excitement in the pit of my stomach. What was it? Despite being a Monday, it was going to be a glorious day on many levels. Was it the fact the sun had finally decided to turn up for its last hurrah just as “summer” was over? No, not that. The fact that my Amazon package, a tea bag squishier, was arriving today (I believe sensible people call them strainers)? No, no, not that. Something familiar, something that spoke to my soul, something that was good for me? No, that doesn’t sound right - I hate most thing that are ‘good’ for me. And, with a flash of dizzy excitement, I knew what it was: I was going to be joining my fellow people in re-entering the enchanting Society also known as Streatham choral.
The community had worked tirelessly throughout the last 18 months in keeping the choir going online and thoroughly entertained, with lectures on music, quizzes, murder mystery evenings, desert island discs and the odd remote singing rehearsal. As restrictions lifted and the weather turned warmer, meet ups were organised in people’s gardens, but today was the first day we would be back as a full choir in our beloved St Leonards.
Excitement moved to slight worry. What if I have forgotten how to sing; would I be thrown out on my rear, eternally banished? What if I have forgotten people names? What if, in the nervousness, I forget my own name? You might laugh, but it has happened. What if I have totally forgotten how to socialise with these people and just converse with Neolithic grunts, eyes fixed down at the ground.
Come 7.30pm my fears evaporated, as I was greeted with warm smiles, twinkly eyes and lots of arm waving - no hugging of course - and it felt like the church itself, St Leonards, with her still, stony walls and spellbinding air, was welcoming us back with a comforting embrace - as if she had been quietly waiting for our return all this time.
We all breathed a sigh of relief when Calum, our Music Director, informed us that we should all take it easy, not push our voices too hard and save our vocal cords as it had been so long; I, for one, had forgotten how to breathe properly and was struggling to complete a 16-beat hum. Did we sing like a herd of strangled cats gallivanting enthusiastically in a slightly small paper bag? Maybe. Was Calum kind enough to tell us that it wasn’t too bad considering? Sure. Did we beam like giddy, grinning children on Christmas morning? Boy, we did.
There was much merriment at the local pub that evening. The sleepy bar staff were surprised to see 30 plus beaming balls of light bombarding the bar and chattering away, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I’m sure you would agree with me that there is a certain something about getting together as a collective group that feels so humanly natural. We are, after all, social creatures that need interaction, and that has been beyond lacking for the past however many months. In fact, neuroscientists have proved that group singing makes us happier, healthier, smarter and more creative. Every time you sing, you fire up the right temporal lobe of your brain, and release endorphins including oxytocin which result in heightened states of pleasure, bliss, bonding and love. No wonder I feel like a puddle of joy after each rehearsal.
It feels so good to being singing / squawking with the choir again. We are seven rehearsals in and sounding strong - the cats are out of the bag and starting to purr or roar in unison, like a pride of lions ready for our pending concert on the 13th November.
By Georgie Dunlop (Soprano)