Sunday. After a packed week of rehearsals (packed around work, that is) members of the London Symphony Chorus join the London Symphony Orchestra and a dazzling line up of soloists (Christine Brewer, Karen Cargill, Stuart Neill and John Relyea) to perform Verdi’s Requiem under the baton of Sir Colin Davis.

The performance is dedicated to the memory of Richard Hickox following his oh so untimely death last November and his family are gathered in the stalls. I was not alone in experiencing moments of deep emotion during rehearsals, wishing for Richard that he does indeed enjoy safe passage to whatever lies ahead and mourning the loss of such a dedicated and inspiring musician. Now though, is not the time to miss an entry to be present to such emotions.

Perhaps it is because of the special significance of this dedication or maybe it’s because Sir Colin has put us through our paces – there will be no complacency here – that our performance blazes a trail through Verdi’s exquisite writing. From the hushed cello entry and the muted Requiem of the chorus at the beginning of the piece, through the fiery Dies Irae to the closing fugue and call to libera me it seems to me that the orchestra, chorus and soloists catch every nuance, doing justice to this magnificent work and to Richard as we bid him farewell.

Two days later, with two more performances to look forward to, I find myself reflecting on my own performance. The Requiem is a demanding sing, requiring stamina and the ability both to give life and volume to many fortissimo passages and still to have the vocal control for the quieter passages. There are some that require the kind of quiet singing at the top of one’s range that can terrify the amateur singer – all the more so when you find yourself in the front row of the chorus singing into the left ear of one of the Orchestra’s fine professional musicians.

I smile as I celebrate my own performance and recognise that, for the time being at least and notwithstanding my lingering cold, I am singing well. Of course I gave my all in the Dies Irae – for high volume and dramatic singing are my forte. And still I managed to sustain my voice and to land quietly and truly on some of the high, quiet phrases. I ponder, wondering what is giving me this ease and joy in my singing.

And I feel so grateful that I have reached a stage in my life when I am able to celebrate in this way, putting modesty to rest and allowing myself to acknowledge fully everything that I bring. Surely this alone contributed to a ‘personal best’ on Sunday.

Richard, I hope you were listening.