Gareth Malone and London awards

Picture of Minster Church, near Boscastle - a truly beautiful spot.

I was watching Gareth Malone’s The Choir the other night and thought how lucky I was not to be married to someone in the forces, having to live in temporary accommodation, rarely making friends and never knowing when or if you may see your loved one again.

At the moment my mum is not having a good time healthwise but at least we are in regular touch over the phone and I’m seeing her soon. One of my best friends is away and while I miss them at least I know they’re not in danger of being blown up, even if communication is patchy.

What struck me about Gareth’s programme was his realization of how isolated these women were. They literally didn’t have a voice. And while it was hard to get them to believe they could sing, once he did, they were off. You could see the joy in their faces as the music took hold, and the sense of unity that singing together can bring.

That’s what singing does for me, though unfortunately I will have to miss our rehearsal this week as I’m off to London for the Luke Bitmead Bursary Awards – for those of you that missed the news, I have been shortlisted for this novel writing award which would mean getting a bursary but also – more importantly – a publishing contract with Legend Press.

Life in Falmouth has not been without its ups and downs over the past few weeks (as ever), so I haven’t had much chance to think about Christmas and my stomach is currently swirling just thinking about the trip to London. Unfortunately I have also got a sore throat – one of those ones where you feel as if you’ve swallowed crushed glass – and lost my voice.

I know I won’t win it – that would be too much to ask – but I’m hoping that they will agree to look at the novel in its entirety when I’ve finished editing it, and may even publish it – who knows? If nothing else it will be a good experience and networking opportunities.

We’re getting the sleeper back, which gets into Truro at some ungodly hour on Friday morning. I really don’t fancy returning with a terrible hangover, so must remember NOT to have that last glass of wine. You know, the fatal one……

And yes, you bet I’ll will be wearing my lucky knickers.