...some years ago at London's Victoria station, we were accosted by a man who had, I think, been to a rather good office party, and who told us that we weren't getting it right. We had spread ourselves out in a line on the concourse to try to make the sound spread, and were not doing very well at all. "No, no NO" he said. "Get together like this", and he formed us into a choir, standing together, shoulders overlapping. "Now get singing. Stomachs in, chests out, shoulders back." and he showed us to how to sing, really sing - and make the sound rise to the great arched ceiling above us, and out to the thousands of passengers teeming noisily into their trains.
And it worked! We were soon singing powerfully, and had attracted a considerable crowd, who were pouring money into our collecting-boxes and expressing delight at our performance.
Over the loudspeaker came the usual train announcements, and one of them caught the attention of our mentor "Bromley South!" he exclaimned "Bromley South! That's my train!" and off he dashed, heading for the platform...I swiftly followed him, and was just able to pant out "Who are you?" before the doors closed on him as the train made ready to take him away to the suburbs. "I run the choir at the Ministry of Defence" he called out. And then the train moved off and he was gone.
Each Christmas, as I form together a choir and get them singing, standing properly, shoulders overlapping, sound soaring upwards, I bless his memory. If he's reading this: THANK YOU!