For all of us, however, this concert is a bit different: we are to sing with Liz’s “other” choir, “Global Harmony”. Most of us have never heard them sing. What are they like? Are they “better” or “worse” than us? More of them or less? Younger or older? What will they be singing?

Global Harmony have “won the toss and decided to bat first” so for Woven Chords it’s time to sit in the gods and watch our sister choir sing its own set. They look great and very soon it’s clear they sound great as well. We look at each other. Do we sound as good as this? The first song ends and we set the tone for the evening by whooping and hollering our approval. We whisper amongst ourselves, deciding which songs we would like to sing ourselves and, being human, smile wryly at the little slip ups that the rest of the audience won’t notice. They sing “It’s my party” and you wish you were singing it with them. When it’s over we applaud with the respect and sincerity of people who know what it takes to perform like that.

The gauntlet has been thrown down in the nicest possible way and there is a perceptible sense of extra “edge” as Woven Chords take the stage. The “boys” kick off the first song “E Malama”, a crowd pleaser that we all love to sing. There’s not as many basses as we would like, but I grin to myself as those first lines boom out from us. Chris Rowbury used to hammer into us that the first lines of the first song lays down the tone for the whole set. The “tops” respond with a soaring harmony. Someone has pressed Sue Waller’s “on“ switch and she is groovin’ away already, the whole choir joins in and we are on our way. We know it’s good and it’s going to carry on being good. Global Harmony repay our compliment by howling their support.

“Water of Tyne” is sung with lovely emotion and nobody misses their key change. “Hana ‘ava Babanot” that tricksy little Jewish number is delivered with aplomb – like shelling peas. How did it take us so long to learn?

As always, it’s over in the blink of an eye and time to take a bow. The Wovies retire to the dressing room with their heads high, knowing that they have met the imaginary challenge.

So then to the piece de resistance: the joint concert. We’ve only done a “technical rehearsal” together. Can both choirs know precisely the same parts? Being intermingled, our own little informal mutual support groups have been split up. I’ve got to remember all the cues myself! I can’t dig the guy next to me in the ribs when he gets it wrong because I’ve only just met him! He probably feels the same way…

Then we’re up and running. “Tre hojitas madre” has some “banana skin” cues for the men. One thing we found it in the technical rehearsal was that Global Harmony had much the same shaky moments as ourselves! Within seconds we all know it’s all going to be ok as the men of both choirs blast out their parts with a razor-sharp timing that hasn’t been there all term. The sound from the massed ranks of the women is stunning. We relax. This is going to be good!

The sound has your head spinning. In fact, such is the volume that I have to watch the mouths of the “tops” to stay in time. “Zahlib ih si edno libe” is one of my weak songs and I know it. The bloke next to me steps gently on my toe at one point. “Days” that used to cause us so much trouble is a walk in the park - but not before I’ve planted a friendly retaliatory elbow into the ribs of the bloke next to me…

Now it’s “Mravalzamier” and I’m not quite sure that we’re all scanning the words the same way, but the sound makes the hairs on your neck stand on end and you wonder what it must sound like out front. Liz has a grin on her face the width of the nave as she points heavenwards to signal the crescendos. I’m feeling proud to be part of this incredible ensemble. How do we achieve this in two hours a week? For me, there’s still never a concert where I don’t feel a bit of a lump in my throat at some point – and it’s nothing to do with not having my water bottle handy!

Then to “We are one/Tedumela” which is well on the way to becoming the choir anthem. Simple words and melody, in English, and the most uplifting of sentiments :

“We living under the same sun, we’re sharing the same earth, we’re sleeping under the same stars and we are one….”

It seems to sum everything up. As you sing songs in so many languages from every life experience from spirituals to anti-apartheid defiance, from Jewish weddings to Geordie love songs, it’s hard not to reflect that you are indeed part of a world-wide community. And these choirs, at least for one evening, are also one. Billions of people, one world, one choir, one voice.

Oh, and one effervescent, irrepressible, lovable choir leader pouring her soul into it as always. It means the same to her as it does to you. You never want to let her down.

In a flash, it’s all over. We’re doing our usual clumsy bows – we really should practice. Then it’s back to the dressing room, the buzz that comes from a job well done and a night well-spent. Your friends are there, the smiles of recognition, the murmurs of congratulation, this time shared with faces that are not so familiar. The newcomers are basking in the pride and relief of getting through their first concert and wondering how the hell they did it. You remember feeling the same way. You slap them on the back.

Then it’s the pub, a chat with old and new friends, the sweet feeling of success. When did you ever have so many friends? When in your life did you ever feel part of something so worthwhile? How often in life do you get that lucky?