Singing

I love it, which is unfortunate for the people around me. My range is about five notes, and I use all of them loudly, mostly while riding my motorbike, on the theory that the helmet and the traffic cover it up. Karaoke is another matter; in Vietnam you can't escape it, and at company parties I'm usually handed the microphone whether I want it or not. I've never had formal training. The closest I got was a few YouTube videos on breathing from the diaphragm, which I practised for about a week until my flatmate knocked on the wall. In primary school, though, I was in the class choir for Teachers' Day. We wore white shirts and red scarves and sang the same song every year, and I was placed firmly in the back row, which probably tells you something. Still, I remember enjoying it enormously. Would I take lessons? Actually, yes. Not to become any good, just to stop hurting people. A colleague of mine goes to an evening class for beginners, and she says the first rule is that nobody is allowed to laugh.