My voice went recently, never happened before, off like a tap. I had to sit in silence for nine days, chalkboard around my neck. Like an old-school mime. Like a kid in the naughty corner. Like a Victorian mute.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
When a music teacher that I had at school was taken ill and we had a variety show and I had to fill in - that's when I realized I had a voice.
I must say that I always thought I had a voice, even when I was 4 years old.
I've learnt to accept what has happened to my voice, I suppose, but I do wish it didn't sound quite so rough.
It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent.
I had a galvanised voice: I could sing through a 105 fever or a flu or a root canal or anything that you could throw at me.
I used to hate the sound of my voice.
My voice had a long, nonstop career. It deserves to be put to bed with quiet and dignity, not yanked out every once in a while to see if it can still do what it used to do. It can't.
Starting out, I bet I didn't get a lot of parts because of my strange voice. I'm not consciously thinking, 'Hey, sound like a squeaky dog toy mixed with a bagful of rusty nails.' It's just what my voice has done.
I've been doing silly voices since I was a child.
Apart from a period of crisis during my adolescence, when my voice was changing and I could not tame it - it was like a kicking foal that does not listen to reason - I have always been told I have a pleasant and recognizable voice.