People tell me I have The Voice. I never thought about it until I started to read and perform poetry. But for years, I used my voice creatively without realising it. Through many incidents in my life, I trained it to become an instrument, a tool for effective expression. Singing in adult choirs helped.
The Voice Began With Flying
I learned to speak clearly and succinctly as a result of studying for the Radio Telephony Licence, which was part of my pilot training. Thanks to dedicated instructors, I learned early on speaking confidently and authoritatively over the radio admitted you through controlled airspace in the UK – and the US! Any hint of hesitation or bungling in your voice would spark reluctance in the air traffic controllers at Luton or Stansted – or Orlando – to allow you to share the same airspace as the big jets. The training paid off. While still a student pilot, I worked the Luton corridor and Northolt, and a few other restricted spaces. Accurate flying helped, too, but that’s another story.
The Voice identified me to other pilots when I was flying in Scotland. One afternoon while stooging over Perthshire, I changed frequency from Scottish Information to Edinburgh Radar. Once I announced my callsign and intentions over the airwaves, a mellifluous voice greeted me, “Hello, Elizabeth”. No Golf-Bravo-Xray-Oscar-Foxtrot, which is a typical British callsign, but an address by name. The unidentified pilot recognised my Kiwi accent at once. Of course, it stuck out like a sore thumb amongst an ocean of Scottish brogues, some indecipherable to my ears. This particular greeting came from south of the Border. I wagered he was one of the former instructors or pilots from Lydd Airport and had bagged a swish flying job with some local airline. Naturally, I returned his salutation. It was quite informal and strayed outside the bounds of RTF protocol.
Cumbernauld Bingo Hall
I had a secret evening job where The Voice came out in full play. I was a Bingo caller at the local Bingo hall. Everyone there knew I flew by day. No one at the flying school knew I stood on a stage with a microphone by night calling out numbers. I landed the position precisely because of my voice, honed by hundreds of hours flying and working the radio. Fellow Bingo staff loved my accent. One girl wanted my voice recorded on her mobile phone, to announce to callers, “Put another shrimp on the barbie”. Although that expression is not typically Kiwi, and in fact has the rattle of chains about it, I obliged. The message became her voicemail! She played it over and over to raucous laughter. Fortunately, the infatuation with foreign accents was mutual. I relished the musical lilts of so many different Scottish accents.
Cumbernauld Bingo Hall acquired a reputation for being exceptionally lucky. Naturally, it drew players from all over North Lanarkshire and every night the place was packed. On one of the few nights I worked the floor, a woman insisted I stand right beside her for the entire evening. She believed I was a walking good luck charm. After all, the customer comes first, and I willingly obliged. I only left her side for toilet breaks or to get more change for the players. Her belief paid off. She walked away that night £800 richer.
I was almost as impressed and mused on ways to rub some of my magical luck onto me. But I digress! One story unfolds into another, and so on. Now to fast-forward to the present.
Waterfall Waiorongomai
I recorded the poem Waterfall Waiorongomai to join the thematic suite of poems I began in All Revolutions Begin This Way. My voice caught the ear of Sanjeev Sethi, who remarked about it on X after watching the video.
How intuitive! Sanjeev wondered if I was a professional voice-over artist. His own words say it best.
Naturally, I struggled to indulge his interest after suggesting I would upload a recording of my voice-over for the Te Aroha Dramatic Society’s production of Dirty Dusting. Firstly, I couldn’t reduce the file, and finally decided I didn’t want to regale his ears with my Big Boy impersonations. The Waterfall poem was sufficient.
However, for the curious, there’s the YouTube recording of the Voice introduction on the Events page.
The Flying Years
As a parting word, the top image depicts my successful flight in ‘Pegasus’, a privately owned aircraft at Tauranga Aero Club, in which I flew for the New Zealand CPL flight test. It was 2013 and feels like a lifetime ago.