Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • Sunday is often a day that divides opinion in the UK. Some people see it as a good day to get done all the things that their job usually stops them from doing; whether it be tending to the slightly overgrown bit in the garden, getting back to the book that has been neglected for the previous week or something as satisfying as having those cheeky extra minutes curled up in bed, Sunday is the perfect day. Others, however, view Sunday as a non-event; most of the shops are shut, the programmes on the telly are rubbish… there is nothing to do on a Sunday.

    For me, Sunday has always been a day to look forward to. It is a long standing tradition that the maternal side of my family congregates at my grandparents' house early every Sunday afternoon to share stories from the past week and simply enjoy one another's company. This Sunday was no exception: my grandma made us all a brew; my uncles discussed the model trucks and planes they collect; my grandad regaled us with stories; my aunty and I giggled at my youngest cousin's vivid imagination. I always look forward to Sunday afternoons.

    I am blessed, as I have yet more reasons to relish Sundays. Before I left for university, I was a member of the Hallé Youth Choir and the rehearsals always took place on Sunday evenings, just after I would visit my grandparents' house. I have recently been asked back to sing in huge concert with the whole of the Hallé at the beginning of May and, as such, my Sundays are once again a day for singing. I missed singing such beautiful music immensely so being caught in this heady mix of nostalgia and completely new musical experiences is intoxicating. Singing is such a demanding discipline that even when soft, ethereal tones escape our lips our stomachs feel like walls of steel. I am an Alto 2, the lowest female voice part within the choir, so when low notes appear in our score singing them makes me instantly feel warmer, like the music is embracing me. This week's rehearsal also allowed me to sing dizzying soprano highs, something I have not done for such a long time. I left the rehearsal elated. Singing has always been such a passion of mine. I have never felt more alive than when I have been singing.

    Getting into my friend's car for the lift home, her father was playing the Frontiers album by Journey. We had discussed it travelling back from last week's rehearsal and I mentioned that it is one of my favourite albums. Switching from a heavenly score by Elgar to music that makes me sing and dance like a fool could not have been more perfect.

    I always have and always will be of the opinion that Sunday is a wonderful day. And I look forward to the delight it brings me next week.

    Photo: a page in my copy of The Apostles by Elgar.
    • Share

    Connected stories:


Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.