A week/month/day in the life is feature we include whenever a storyteller has the time to write one!

Sunday 29 April
So here I am at Kasshabog Lake, north east of Toronto, with our old friend Mike and his girlfriend Cynthia. After only two days I'm in holiday mood while also aware that this coming week holds major work. As well as two twelve-minute storytelling slots in the North American Welsh Choir's big annual concert, I'll be participating in Lifting the Sky, a work that's been composed for the choir with my visit in mind. But for now the butterflies are still far off and the sky is blue and brilliantly clear. Last night the Big Dipper was directly above us and, after an enormous barbecued lunch, I find myself telling the story of how it came into being. The original story is traditional Salish and I've often told it at the Royal Observatory, Greenwich. Now I tell it in the reshaped version that has become part of Lifting the Sky. Mike and Cynthia listen deeply and I am as moved by their listening as they are by the story.

Monday 30 April
Back in Toronto I spend half the morning in bed pondering my notes for Wednesday evening. The idea is for me to entertain the choir after we've all arrived at the hotel where we'll be preparing for Saturday's concert. The choir will be flying in from 26 different states of the Union and three Canadian provinces. Courageously founded and developed three years ago by conductor and singer, Mari Morgan, they use the Internet to keep in touch and as well as regional events, there's one big concert for the whole choir each year. This year it's in the Olympic Peninsula and for the welcome evening I'm planning part of my one-woman show, Travels with my Welsh Aunt. Emigration is one of the themes and it feels appropriate.

Tuesday 1 May
We fly to Vancouver, pick up a car and drive down to Seattle. In the evening light, the modern tall buildings are extremely dramatic. Tomorrow we'll be crossing Puget Sound, the area where the Salish people first told the story of people lifting the sky.
Wednesday 2 May
From the sea Seattle is even more impressive. On the ferry a man points out two seals basking on a marker buoy. I make a mental note to include them on Saturday night. My second slot will be Tales from Wales and in a run of stories from my home area, St David's, I'm planning to include an anecdote about a seal I saw sunbathing on a dinghy. Coming off the ferry we both start feeling apprehensive. Paul, my husband, is going to sing in the choir. How will he get on? I worry about the storytelling. How will North Americans take to my stuff? I soon get the chance to find out. At the welcome reception at the Alderbrook Inn people respond with enormous warmth. New connections start emerging as a choir member from Toronto comes over. Was the Aunty Mali I talked about the Aunty Mali she knew? We agree it was. Then I discover that at the end of the 1940s this lovely lady was taught by my father!

Thursday 3 May
The choir is spending the morning rehearsing. Their voices swell up over the hotel gardens down to the glistening waters of the Hood Canal. Beyond, snow shines on the peaks of the peninsula's mountains. I relish the free time. It feels like the first I've had to myself for months. I do my nails. Think over my stories. Go for a swim in the hotel swimming pool, sink gratefully into the jacuzzi. After lunch, I meet with Richard Lind, the choir's accompanist, and Victor Davies, Canadian composer of Lifting the Sky. We work intensively for nearly three hours adapting piano and telling to each other in the work's middle narrative section. A semi-chorus is also involved in this section but we won't work with them till later. Among interesting questions arising, Victor has brilliant suggestions for dealing with a pacy narrative sequence. Slow the telling down. Make it huge and mythic. Let the piano give the pace instead of the speaker. In the evening Carolyn Maddux arrives. We've only previously talked via email. It is a delight to meet. She is the poet whose text for Lifting the Sky brings out the inspirational notion that, if the sky still sometimes feels too low today, we can succeed in lifting it up by working and singing together.

Friday 4 May
Paul's birthday. The choir sing him Happy Birthday at the start of their morning rehearsal. The afternoon I spend with the semi-chorus. Everyone could do with more practice time. This evening we'll be giving a rehearsal concert in the room where we've all been working. Local people will be the listeners. I've met some this morning when I went shopping and they later prove a most receptive bunch. I try out a reference to Bill Gates, the Microsoft mega-millionaire who has a property next to the Alderbrook Inn. "Very good, very good," calls a man in the audience.

Saturday 5 May
Time to get into gear once again. Lunchtime Paul goes off to nearby Shelton in the choir bus to rehearse at the concert venue. I go in later with Victor and Lori, Victor's wife. Apart from going over Lifting the Sky, I have to check acoustics and sort out where I'm sitting and standing. The afternoon passes. There are the usual hitches but suddenly we're on the threshold of the evening and it's all begun. Afterwards I know the concert was something I'll always remember. Performers and audience, we lifted the sky. At the Afterglow, as they call it, we start saying goodbyes. Next year the choir will be coming to Britain. I'm especially looking forward to 5th July when we perform together in St David's Cathedral. For now, though, present feelings are enough. This has been as wonderful an experience as anyone could wish for.

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