“Loose, footloose / Kick off your Sunday shoes / Please Louise / Pull me offa my knees / Jack, get….”
Ah, don’t mind me, just practicing my singing. I’ve joined my local Rock Choir. By all accounts I’m a bass (not the fish). However, my vocal range is apparently restricted.
Not the only thing that’s been restricted; my range of activities has also been severely curtailed since the cancer has been eating away at my pelvis and legs. The ability to go for long walks; to fully explore new places; to ‘bop ‘til I drop’ and embarrass Victoria and Charlotte on the dance-floor; to go skiing, something I loved; to play hockey, are all now just things I used to be able to do, (OK, confession time, I had no intention of playing hockey again anyway).
But, what the hell, I can still get around pretty well on my pins and the world is full of endless possibilities – one of which, it turns out, is Rock Choir. Just a couple of hours a week, it gets me out of the house in the evening for something that isn’t just another walk and Anne can watch ‘Bake-Off’ in peace.