Call me Indecisive, but

One minute I’m ridiculously excited over a quote from a book on an interesting historical topic or I’m so engrossed in writing the opinionated conclusion to my essay that I forget it isn’t cool to be caught enjoying coursework. The next minute I’m stood in my room singing Mozart’s Agnus Dei, loving it and deciding that singing is what I want to do for the rest of my life.

Since the age of 5 I’ve been telling people I want to be an author or as I get older, a journalist: Younger Bronwen stapled pieces of A5 paper together, designed front covers in felt-tip and crayon and then wrote numerous ‘Chapter Ones’ for what she planned would be hugely successful novels. She bought note pads and then ripped out half the pages just because she decided the story she’d written inside wasn’t worthy of publishing.

When I discovered singing at the age of 9 suddenly, that was all I wanted to do. One performance on stage turned into two, which turned into three and before I knew it I was addicted. Performing on stage isn’t comparable to anything else I’ve done or I think, anything I will ever do. Nothing annoys me more than a frog in my throat or a cold that stops me singing. Nothing clears my head more than an hour spent at the piano singing and playing until I forget what on Earth I had to escape from in the first place. Or of course a few minutes in the spotlight scared out of my socks, but up on cloud nine.

My first meeting with my tutor this year ended with a discussion about the future; about what I planned to do when I left University and ventured out into the big wide world. I could go on to study Journalism; review musical concerts, lead political debates, write agony aunt columns. I could study Post Graduate Music at a conservatoire in the hope of becoming a professional performer. I realised just how hard the decision is going to be. For one thing I still go through days when both singing and writing are stressing me out so much that I don’t want to face either of them. Who knows? Maybe I’ll decide I want to do something completely different.

All I know is, it’s time for breakfast and I need food for thought. Hot Cross Buns it is.

A step towards London, a step in the right direction

My Auntie celebrated her birthday in style this weekend. She stayed at a Hilton hotel near Tower Bridge. She spent three days and two nights drinking, eating, seeing family and sightseeing (stopping in her tracks to take photos as only a true tourist does) and ended it all laughing hysterically at the comedians performing in The Comedy Store.

I jumped on the train to join her yesterday. I’d never stayed in a London hotel or been to a comedy store so I was a little excited. However, I was also feeling nervous about leaving home and going to University and if I’m honest, all I really wanted to do was start getting organised then curl up in pyjamas and watch a feel good movie.

I’m glad I got on that train though. I’ve come back from London feeling like I could conquer the world if I wanted to. Some people would say that when you’re among the commuters of the rush hour the atmosphere in London is hostile and unkind, but when ever I’ve been to London I’ve found that to be a part of the hustle and bustle of such an incredible city is exhilarating.

The hotel was incredible. The sky lounge sold expensive drinks, but had the most amazing view, a view that was even more amazing at night. The comedians we saw at The Comedy Store were, as my ticket told me they would be, ‘The Best in Stand-Up’. Okay, perhaps not… I mean, I am not saying that they were better than Michael McIntyre, who in my opinion is the most hilarious man on Earth, but they were very almost as good as him. They may not be famous just yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if some time soon they appeared on my television screen.

We woke up for breakfast today and I helped myself to a bowl of fruit, granola and yoghurt as well as serving up a proper full English. It all just looked so good! We walked across the Tower Bridge walk way this morning and then headed to a pub for drinks before heading home.

Not only has this weekend left me feeling like I could go back to University today (if it weren’t for the four hour journey and the ridiculous amount of packing still to be done), but while standing on Tower Bridge looking out on the river I couldn’t help imagining myself at music college there in two or three years time.

For now at least, I’m heading in the right direction: I’m feeling positive and loving my mum for having just made an amazing roast dinner. Here’s hoping my Auntie enjoyed her weekend as much as I did.