Almost Choir

 

A couple of weeks ago, the chairperson of the village hall committee upon which I sit (not literally, at least I don’t think it’s a literal sitting upon, because when I attend meetings I sit upon a chair; shut up, Denise, you’re overthinking…) sent a message to our WhatsApp group announcing that a person in the village wanted to set up a choir and could they book the hall for the first three Tuesdays in November as a test run to see if it would be a viable activity? And because the village hall committee is keen to encourage use of the village hall for activities such as this, we said yes, what a lovely idea, go for it, etc etc blah blah blah. 

The person duly posted messages on the various village WhatsApp groups, detailing the, well, details of the potential choir. And then they came to the village coffee morning at the end of September to spread the word there and drum up a bit of support. 

Now, I do like a bit of a sing song. I often sing when I am home alone. I sing when I am walking Nell the Poo along the canal. I like music, I have a stack of CDs (yes, I know, how old-fashioned of me in this age of digital streaming but I say hush and piffle to that, I like my CDs thank you very much, now move along please) and so I thought I would sign up to the taster session, because it would be nice to get involved with a small village choir, wouldn’t it? 

And here we are, over two weeks after the initial launch and four weeks until lift off. The organiser has put up posters in the local town library and supermarkets. They have spread the word across surrounding villages and, this morning, the 33rd member joined and the choir WhatsApp group went bonkers with hurrahs and welcomes and brilliants and what fun, along with various emojis like these: 👏🏻🤩👍🏻💃🎤🎹🎼🎉🎊. At least thirty three people are coming to the taster session, and it is very likely that numbers will grow beyond that. THIRTY THREE! 

Now, those who know me well will know exactly how I have reacted to this exponential growth of new choir numbers. The problem is this. Our society is geared towards extroverts. And I am not an extrovert. I am, and have always been, firmly Camp Introvert. I feel overwhelmed when amongst a lot of people. I don’t cope well with too much noise. Even attending the village coffee morning leaves me feeling frazzled and drained. These feelings aren’t helped by the fact I am someone who people like to talk to. Or talk at. Or off-load to. Only a couple of days ago, Nell and I were out walking, minding our own businesses, and some random bloke stopped and told me everything there was to tell about his Irish terrier’s appalling eating habits and resulting stomach issues, plus his current exercise programme of carrying a 35kg rucksack on his walks in preparation for his planned Winter skiing holiday because why would he want to go to a gym to build strength with all that sweat flying around? I neither instigated nor encouraged the conversation beyond my usual courteous ‘Good morning’ as we passed by, but there I was, ten minutes later being a doggy ailments and strength-building sounding board. I had to do some serious stomping to get rid of THAT energy dump, I can tell you. 

When I was a child, and we had family parties which involved a lot of people - because we were a big family - I was able to manage all the noise and hullabaloo for a certain amount of time and then I would have to crawl under a table or chair, curl up and have a bit of a ‘time out’ snooze to recoup myself, and then I’d emerge and start again. No one thought anything of this. It was just me being me. You see? Life-long introvert. How I managed to teach in a secondary school I don’t know, but I think that by the time you’ve grown from child introvert to adult introvert, you’ve gathered an arsenal of coping strategies because that is what the extrovert society expects you to do so that you ‘fit in.’ And at the end of the day you’d just go home and sit very still and very quietly in order to recharge.

I think my optimum number of people in a room is 12. Provided they are spread out. Any more than that and I can feel my ‘it’s too peopley out there’ anxiety scale ratcheting up. And as the choir numbers began to rise and it occurred to me this wasn’t going to be the nice and compact little village singing group that I felt I could become involved with, I knew I would be sending my apologies and withdrawing from the whole thing, which I did soon after Choir Member 33 announced their arrival. I felt instant relief when I had done so which said it all, really. 

‘Oh, but you miss out on so much in life by being like that,’ people - usually extroverts - say. And, in response, I say, no I do not. I have plenty of joy in my life. I have plenty of hobbies and activities and interests, but it just so happens they are ones I can do by myself. And I love the people with whom I do share time, in small groups. I am happy and content with my introvert life. And I wish the big, new choir very well indeed. It’s just not going to be a thing for me.