It took 21 months but finally I got to sing with my home choir in person and not as usual blearily at 2am in my pyjama top, over Zoom, hoping that my singing won’t wake up the household or the neighbours and knowing that I’ll be unlikely to sleep afterwards and a wreck for the rest of the day. Still better than NOT being able to sing with them at all.

And what a joy it was to be back in the bosom of my friends and welcomed so wholeheartedly by them. I never know whether they’ll forget me or resent me waltzing in, expecting to sit where I have always sat and pick up as if I’d never left but, credit to my friends, every time I walk into that hall they seem pleased to see me.

I’m glad to say that my singing has improved in the time I’ve been away. At one point I heard a proper soprano sound and I realised that it was me!

It was a big evening for everyone present, too. The happiness at finally being able to come together and sing was tangible. There are few experiences to match making music together in terms of emotional oneness and belonging, and I mentally gathered up those feelings into a part of my heart to be consumed in small, rationed parcels when I need them on my return to Hong Kong. I intend to take advantage of the two sessions left to me – and possibly a trip to the NotSpoons pub afterwards too – before I disappear into Canada for a while and re-emerge in HK hotel room quarantine. I mean, it’s not that I don’t have lots of opportunities to sing there but your Home choir is your Home choir, na?