I’m home from my tour with my music group. It’s over. I have to come back to ‘normal’ life. For two weeks I lived in a world of beautiful music. I’m at a complete loss to describe how wonderful it was to sing in ancient cathedrals, with ceilings hundreds of meters away from me, surrounded by wood carvings, tombs of centuries gone kings and poets and monks, places it would take a lifetime to explore in all the side chapels, crannies, artistic details…the sound of the stone laid before England was a country, the feeling of empty air vaulting above one’s head and eddying in drafts, the smell of thousands of fingerprints on the doorways – and then to have my voice join with forty others and send reverberations through the bones of Herbert Howells or Edward the Black Prince…and now I’m home. It’s over.
Oh God. How will I not go mad?