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When she was a little girl, she had dreamed of being a big rock star. Like thousands of other children her age, she had danced around her bedroom, singing into her hairbrush until her dad banged on the ceiling and told her to shut up.

It didn’t discourage her; she saved up her pocket money and took singing lessons, and eventually her dad got used to it. He’d still complain, but at least he stopped telling her to shut up.

She was determined to make something of her voice; she took music at school, and went on to study it at college, but then somewhere along the way she let real life get in front of ambition. She took an administration course as “something to fall back on”, initially working part-time in a local office while she wrote and recorded a demo, and tried to get it heard.

But the demo didn’t go anywhere, and when the office manager offered her a full-time position, she took it. The demo went into a drawer where it would lie, forgotten, for years.

She got married and had children, and didn’t think about being a rock star any more.

Except once a month, when she left the kids with her mother and went to the karaoke at the King’s Arms. She drank only soft drinks so she could concentrate on her singing, and chose her songs carefully. She sang only songs that she knew by heart, so that she could dance and improvise around them a little bit, get the audience going and put on a good show.

For one night each month, she was the star she’d always dreamed of being.

© Kari Fay

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