Blame Becky: A Catalogue of Implausible Injuries

First, an apology. The photo that accompanies this post is not my best work. It's a still frame taken from a recording of the choir rehearsal. My phone was otherwise engaged last night, and everyone else was far too polite – or scared – to take a photo of me, for reasons that shall become clear. If you zoom in on the man at the back, you'll see what all this fuss is about...

After last week’s excitement, this week saw me back in my customary position at the back of the room. Not through choice, you understand. By now we’ve had the big announcement – Raise Your Voice Hebburn are taking part in a performance of Choir of Man at the Sunderland Empire; and in addition I can now exclusively reveal that the reason I took part in last week’s session is because I only get to attend if I agree to sing. You might think it selfish that in order to see a musical I sabotage the entire choir with my voice, I couldn’t possibly comment.

At last week’s rehearsal we only got halfway through the song, so in an ideal world I’d have been joining in again. John Lennon once sang “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans”, and a hospital appointment on the day of rehearsal resulted in me turning up with an electronic gizmo shoved up my nostril and my nose bandaged. Singing really wasn’t an option. I was finding talking, and even breathing, difficult. But even worse, I looked ridiculous.

As it’s my (occasionally) smiling face that greets members at the door, I couldn’t exactly hide. People were going to notice, and that meant people were probably going to ask questions. So I thought, if I couldn’t enjoy singing, I was going to get my jollies in another way. And so it was that I spent the first part of the evening trying to give increasingly ridiculous reasons for my appearance. I’ve gathered some of my favourites for posterity, and present them below…

I led with a freak skydiving accident where my parachute didn’t open, which bizarrely one of the choir didn’t find implausible. It was a fashion choice – I was just trying something. I was attacked by a squirrel in Saltwell Park whilst eating a Topic. I was auditioning for the Jack Nicholson part in a remake of Chinatown. I told Becky that her bum did indeed look big in that dress. Becky doesn’t like it when she loses at Scrabble. I was late home from work and Becky’s dinner was ruined. I fluffed a harmony practising at home and Becky shoved her conductor’s baton up my nose in a fit of rage (Becky really didn’t come out of last night well, if I’m honest; for the record she’s a wonderful and incredibly patient woman, and she needs to be). I was trying out my ‘wounded soldier’ costume for the Springwell Village 1940s event. I tried breaking into the Home Alone house. I was fed up being told I looked like Curly Watts so was trying to hide my face. And my personal favourite, there was absolutely nothing wrong with me but I’d shoved a wire up my nose to get out of rehearsals.

I was moved (and slightly surprised) that the reaction wasn’t laughter but genuine concern. The choir are clearly better people than I! It’s wonderful being part of a group of people who all care about their fellow singers. Even the bad ones. And for anyone interested who didn’t get the straight answer last night, I’m okay. Doctors were monitoring my stomach acid levels due to heartburn. So if you take nothing else from this, see it as proof that I do in fact have a heart.