Mumbulla Hall in Bega, Saturday morning. A ragtag crew of a hundred or so, mostly women but enough men to cushion our sound. Shrill sopranos, mellower altos, the velvety tenors and the gravel-toned basses. I don’t know what I am but I’m standing with the basses when we divide ourselves up, and I don’t move easily, so I give it a burl. Can’t reach some of the low notes so I shuffle towards the tenors, where I kind of stay. By the end of the weekend I suspect I may be an alto. It doesn’t matter.