Music has always been one of my foremost loves. Somehow, without knowing it, my parents named me well (my name comes from the french chant meaning song) and it’s only in my darkest moments that I feel as though my head and my heart are devoid of music.

It seems something of a no-brainer, then, that I’ve been singing for most of my life (I believe I sang my first solo when I was 7 years old so that’d be 19 years ago) and have learned several instruments to varying levels during those years too. You see, I can’t help but give voice to the music that I feel and love.

Unfortunately, I never really liked the way my voice sounded. I don’t have the clear soprano that many of the girls at school had (and probably still have); instead I’m pretty much stuck in the alto range with woolly edges to my voice. I longed for the gentler, higher pitch but there wasn’t really a lot I could do about it.

Eventually, I stopped singing in public altogether.

To be honest, I thought that was it and that I’d only ever sing along to my car radio (and never with anyone else in the car). After all, why would I subject other people to a voice I disliked? The funny thing about music, though, is that it can’t be dammed up forever.

So now I sing warp to Talis Kimberley’s weft which brings me an indescribable amount of joy (it’s always glorious when singing songs that reach deep inside you). The thing that has surprised me most is how many people have come up and said I have a beautiful voice. I’ve never considered my voice to be of note, let along beautiful and quite often their comments bring me close to tears. I doubt they’ll ever realise how much it means to me to hear them say that.

I know that I won’t ever have the voice I craved as a child and teenager but slowly, ever so slowly, I’m starting to love the way I sound, the way my voice weaves a fine fabric with Talis’ own voice, and cherish the small part I play in bringing joy to people’s lives with the music.

My voice may not change, but my views about it certainly are.