When I saw the email from my neighbour asking whether I’d like to audition to sing in the rock band he played in, my body froze at the idea. My brain began drafting a reflex “Thanks, but no thanks” response. I thought: You haven’t sung in years. You’re too old.
As a petite, mid-50s woman, I’d been resigning myself to that invisibility we’re told comes for us. I still hid my grey hairs beneath varying shades of red, but I’d swapped my vintage fashion for hoodies, T-shirts and jeans. I stayed home more and generally took up less space.
