So, while wrapping Keith's present (and if he is reading this, I would say, "Don't even think about trying to find it or guess what it is!"), I decided to get myself into the festive mood with a few carols on the music centre and then, because many of the words are familiar to me, I began to join in with the singing.
And that was when the suspicion that my singing voice is no longer proved to be well founded.
When I was little, I was thought to have a good singing voice; it was in the genes as my grandmother was a well-known member of local choirs of her time. The problem was that I was a very shy child and would no more have agreed to sing solo than fly to the moon, so I was bribed. I could have piano lessons, which I was interested in, if I agreed to have singing lessons also. Very reluctantly, I agreed, but my sacrifice came to nought as, for some unremembered reason, neither ever happened.
Fast forward to sixth form and our production of Purcell's 'Dido and Aeneas' (Yes, no rubbishy 'High School Musical' in those days!), in which I played my part in the chorus and enjoyed it. For years afterwards, I would regularly entertain myself, and the neighbours on the other side of the bathroom wall, during my ablutions, giving spirited renditions of 'When I am laid in earth' and 'Fear no danger'.
But then I grew up and haven't really sung much for years and the result is the proof of the old adage, "Use it or lose it." The wobble is there, the difficult in holding correct pitch, the thinness of the voice. My grandmother would be ashamed of me and I am a bit ashamed of myself that I didn't do more to cultivate what voice I did have.