Poetry Written On Postcards to Royston Arts Group (artist Ros Ridley)

Where was her sheet music? Her hands were sticky with sweat as she clutched the violin in one hand and the bow in the other. Would she remember her solo

Without the music? This was her first performance without the rest of the musicians. She waited in the wings expectantly. She would see the lights in the hall going on and hear the voices of the people shuffling into their seats.

Her friend the leader of the violins in that ensemble was behind her and gave a nudge and an encouraging whisper,’ you’ll be fine, go now!’ The hall had filled up and there was a terrifying hush as she practically fell on to the stage, nearly dropping her violin. She was half aware of the incredibly bright lights and the heat of the atmosphere. Then she found her spot on the stage, lifted her bow to the violin and began playing…it all came back like a river flowing and bubbling. She immersed herself in Brahms violin concerto. Time stopped;

And then suddenly it was all over. She was aware of thunderous applause and a beaming crowd in front of her, who were cheering and shouting for an encore and Rapturous applause which she received gracefully.

Eleanor Fitzgerald