Nowhere in my life is the way we lay down memories more apparent than in my role as a member of the London Symphony Chorus. For with 120 members of the choir singing in any one concert, we lay down 120 versions of our experience. Different members of the chorus notice different things about the experience. Different members of the chorus respond to those different things in different ways. Years later, when we compare notes, these differences are highly apparent. Were we at the same concert?

Talking with my friend and former chorus member Jenny Tomlinson in the run up to last week’s two performances of Elektra, it’s clear that Jenny laid down a few memories I had forgotten about our performance in 1989. She reminds me how one of our fellow sopranos, Eileen Fox, stood in for Christa Ludwig to do her scream in the role of Clytemnestra. Now, it isn’t normally seen as a compliment to describe someone as a ‘screamer’ in the context of the London Symphony Chorus, but hey! When you’ve deputised for Christa Ludwig, well, that’s an altogether different matter.

Once again, in 2010, Eileen is asked to offer her scream and draws the admiration and respect of fellow Chorus members. The stage staff who open the door for her make jokes after her first attempt (“honest! We could barely hear you!”) and are spotted wearing ear plugs next time round.

Helen Palmer, whose sister Felicity is utterly magnificent in the role of Clytemnestra, will no doubt lay down a few memories of the way eager audience members asked her for her autograph and Valerie Gergiev, too, did a quick double-take before realising that no, this was not Felicity Palmer.

James Mallinson laid down a particular kind of memory, laying down the tracks that will become the LSO Live recording to be issued in a few months time. The critics laid down a variety of highly positive memories in their reviews (not one of them about the chorus – though what can you expect when we only have a handful of bars to sing?). I would add my own “quite right, too!” as I think of the fine array of soloists and the orchestra’s exciting performance. The chorus as a whole may well lay down a memory of the various places we were instructed to sing from before finally gathering near the stage door.

Personally, I lay down one memory amongst the others which is personal to me. Standing at the back of the little group of “servant wenches” by the stage door I have barely enough light to see my music. Noticing this, one of the stage door staff takes out his mobile phone to shine the light over my music, following my finger as I highlight where the light needs to go. A small act of kindness which I treasure.