I've lost my voice. It's all because of last Thursday. I joined the Singer's Society, you see, and that was the first meeting. I sat with the tenors, as i still refuse to sing bass. (I stayed, at my old school, in the alto section later than anyone else in my year. When i finally moved down to the tenors, in year eleven, it was only because the music teacher and head of the choir (Who left in my last year, meaning choir was put in the charge of a man generally regarded as incompetent. There was only one choir meeting in my last year at the school. (Just to clarify, although in year eleven choir was useful in my stalking of E, that was incidental to my membership - i'd joined because i loved so very much to sing, but wasn't good enough to find any outlet for this but choir.)) had decreed that everyone in year ten or above was to move to the tenor section. (Enabling my subsequent gazing at the back of E's neck.)) The purpose of this meeting, apparently, also had a social dimension, and at one point we were forced to mingle, to find and sit next to someone (Within our own section.) who we didn't yet know and to talk to them. I found myself next to a girl, which was something of a surprise, but considering i still wish i were an alto, (At the least. I'd kill to be a treble. Perhaps i'd even agree to become a castrato, were it not too late.) i wasn't all too shocked. She was nice, although i obviously wasn't able to talk much.

The songs we sang were fun. Well, the first two. First we sang a Zulu song, and then some folk song from New Zealand. (This did involve having to yell at one point "THE FLAMING PUB'S ON FIRE" in a strong antipodean accent, and i didn't quite manage to pull that bit off. Otherwise, tough, i did rather well.

Then we had a break, for drinks, and as i began climbing down the steps to leave, i saw a girl i'd first met at the bowling two weeks ago this Wednesday, who will from now be known as UA. I'd managed to talk with her a little then, but i hadn't expected the two of them (Her and the other girl, beside her.) would think much of me. But then last Tuesday i saw them both again, they were sitting by me, and i was able to impress them with my Scoubidous, (Little keyringy things and the like made from knotting together plastic threads. They look pretty complicated, so people tend to be a little impressed. They serve a double purpose. They provide something for me to talk about with whoever's kind enough to approach me and they give me something to look at, getting round my problems with eye contact.) out of which i was currently making a pink helicopter. I'd said then that i'd come to the pub with them later, but in the end i didn't feel i could and went home to sulk. (I assume we all know why.)

On Thursday, at singsoc, she accosted me about this and forced (I am exaggerating.) me to promise that i'd come to the pub with them. (Them now being her and another fellow who'd been near us at last Tuesday's meeting.) She said she'd heard me singing earlier, (Having presumably already recognised me.) which surprised me, as i thought i'd been very quiet. I usually am, after all. I didn't ask if she'd thought i was any good, too afraid that she'd answer truthfully.

After the second half (In which we sang a song by Fauré (Famous for writing Pavane.) which was utterly mangled by various awful French accents, one so loud that i was actually dragged into the wake of its bad pronunciation.) everyone was supposed to go on to a pub. There was much discussion of where to go, until one of the union bars was settled on. When we got there, it was packed, and after a fruitless wait to be served, the four of us (Three from the LGB plus my new female tenor friend, her neck conspicuously sporting an ichthus on a chain.) elected to go to the bar at UA's halls of residence.

It was quite a long walk, but eventually we got there. We stayed in the bar for quite a while. Another of my giggling fits began to come on, partly inspired by the bad music. It was a karaoke night, and some of the performers where truly, truly awful. Near the end, the four of us decided we would have a pop at it. (That is, the three of them decided and i, being the eternal hanger-on, followed them, reluctantly.) We sang Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. I have no idea how good we were. Sometimes i sang, but often i leant on the window behind me (Perhaps not very wise.) and giggled. By the end of the song we appeared to have been joined by most of the previous performers. (Although a number of the previous performers had in fact been the same person, so the stage wasn't as swamped as it might sound.)

At one point the female tenor left for the bar, and i hurriedly inquired of the others whether they thought she realised she'd stumbled across the LGB component of singsoc. (I rather like that abbreviation, actually.) UA's sexuality was obvious, as she'd earlier discussed arranging her weekend in order to be able to "snog a girl", (And i still can't say 'snog' seriously.) and the other chap seemed rather camp, but i worried about myself. I'm never able to explicitly say that i'm gay, but i never used to think i had to. However, some of the surprised reactions of my friends (Wow, this was ages ago now. I think i've now been out roundabout a year. Although not if i'm counting from when it became public knowledge.) have convinced me that my sexuality isn't that obvious. I choose to think this is more the fault of my deep introversion and painful shyness rather than that actually, i'm not very camp, though i really do fear (It's true, i do! I'm such a fool.) that the latter may be the case.

Anyway, afterward we went to UA's bedroom for a while. That was nice. We drank a little more (I'd never had Bailey's before - it's rather nice.) and talked and giggled (Mostly me) and i revived my old habit (Not very old, in truth. I was still doing it with my sister when i left.) of repeating what people say. My sister and i would have tremendous volleys like this, picking up on something said and repeating, offering variations on the theme, and, indeed, having entire mock conversations. One of our favourites is to mock our mother for her (imagined) stinginess, which has a specific way now in which it must be expressed. One of us begins, either with "Money doesn't grow on trees." or "I'm not made of money.", then the other replies with the other phrase, and we finally both chorus "Why, if i had a pound for every time i spent a pound...", a wonderful piece of nonsense. My sister's, actually. It was a lot of fun, ridiculous as it might sound now. It was a way of excluding the rest of the world, really rather a private thing, even though we were talking out loud. If someone tried to join in we would look at each other, expressing our disdain, and expell loud sighs of disapproval. Once, at one of my birthday gathering (The one with all my family.) my sister tried to get this going, but i was too shy, so i only chimed in every now and again, leaving her to yell "See! I said he does it too!", whereupon i once again fell silent. I miss her, i love her tremendously.