castrati

You know what they say: a watched agarose gel never sets!

Tried your telephonic experience. (Yes, I got up before lunchtime, just for the craic - what a full life I lead!) Disappointed not to hear any alto or soprano singing on the voicemail...

Sorry to disappoint; I was the lowest bass in each of the last two groups that I sang in, and believe me, while my falsetto gets up there, I'm not the ear-drum-piercer I was once capable of being... very sad (i.e. not at all). Thank you for the message; you sound just like one of my old school-mates!

I knew I shouldn't have gone to work today and stalked your blog instead! Dang! ;P

Curioser and curioser. Just as you posted this, I was asked to come in for a second interview as a Customer Services Representative for Nokia which required me to take a voice test. And apparently they liked the way I sounded on the phone.

Interesting coincidence.

I think I was told once that I was a tenor. Or maybe she was trying to tell me I was a terrible singer. Tenor, terrible. Hmm... words all sound the same when you're drunk.

Just like one of your old school-mates at the time when they were old school-mates, eg aged 10? Oh dear - I must practise harder at swilling gravel through my vocal folds! You'd think all the fags I have every day would 'help'...

(In fact, what they actually do, among other horrific things, of course, is to remove the 'lubrication' in the false vocal folds, which are directly above the normal ones. But I digress...)

Much as I love my friends, my memory of their voices doesn't extend to pre-puberty. I knew Richard at Harrow, anyhow, so he would have been beyond that by then.

Gravel is overrated, but it might scrape away some of that tar.

Oh, the gravel/tar connection... I geddit!

Hey, do you know how to thank a Scottish roadworker?

Tarmac.