My friend Victoria and I enter a large rehearsal room. About 60 people are already there, unpacking guitars and other instruments, talking amongst themselves. I ask myself "What am I doing here?" before spotting my friend Richard, and finding a seat at the back of the room.
Richard is a barrister whom I met during my first year in legal practice. He had his own practice in the same corridor as the firm where I worked. He helped me when I most needed it; when I had little experience and was burdened with work beyond my capabilities. He became a mentor and a friend.
Over the years Richard had talked about his love of music and how he played keyboard in various bands. I had mentioned that I enjoyed singing. One day Richard told me about the "Weekend Warriors" program he had participated in. It's an association that gets middle-aged people into bands. He suggested I should do this program also. My reaction was "Richard, don't be ridiculous; I'm not doing that."
Then one day Richard said "Why don't you come along this Sunday afternoon? We're having a bit of a jam. Just come along and watch."
For some reason I decided to turn up and see what it was all about.
Which is how I come to be in this place (amusingly, the Deaf Society Hall), wearing a sticky label announcing me as "Shelley - VOX". I feel a fraud.
I settle into my seat to observe the action.
After a few preliminaries, they start to assemble the first band. As if in a dream, I hear "And can we have Shelley and Victoria to do backing vocals." I glare at Richard and give him a good whack on the shoulder before heading to the front of the room. Victoria and I take our place alongside some guitarists, and are given a microphone on a stand to share.
We've got lyrics to read from. We know these songs. The drums start up. The electric guitars get going. The music is pounding. I feel the vibrations through my body. We're "knock, knock, knockin' on Heaven's door..."
Where has this been all my life? How can I have survived until now, without knowing this wild, crazy feeling? It's like the first sip of alcohol, the first puff of a cigarette. I've entered a new world I never knew about before.
At the end of the jam, we're asked to indicate if we'd like to "do the program". I realize that this will require more time than I've got. With the work schedule ahead of me, I can't see my way clear to focus on music for the next month and a bit. "Maybe next time", I tell the organizers.
I do however sign up to receive notification of the next jam session, as they are held every few months.
At the next event, I feel a bit more confident. I write "Shelley - VOX" on my own name tag. I put my hand up to sing lead vocals. It feels great. Still, I have too much on my plate to "do the program".
A few months on, I clear my calendar. I arrange to have precisely three singing lessons and ask my teacher for advice on songs and key. I turn up at the jam, and specify the songs I wish to sing. At the end of the afternoon, I put my hand up. I'm "doing the program".
Two days later, I receive a phone call to say I've been placed in a band, and that I need to attend a meeting to find out what we need to know about the program.
During the next month, we'll be working with a coach who'll be assigned to us. We'll select songs and prepare a 30-minute set which we'll perform at a charity concert.
At this stage there's only one thing I'm sure of. It has to be a once-off experience. I'm a lawyer, wife and mother - I can't be in a band. Well, just this once.
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