Do It Your Styles

When we found out he had got through to the televised auditions of The X Factor it suddenly felt real. There’s a list of songs that contestants select from and we pored over it to choose ones that he already knew, ones he liked and ones he couldn’t imagine singing. When he had to practice, he suddenly became shy and wouldn’t let us listen. He was constantly singing before and, at first, I didn’t understand why this was any different. After a lot of persuasion, he would stand in the bathroom with the door shut and sing Isn’t She Lovely and Hey, Soul Sister, while Mum and I sat on the landing outside. I’d never experienced a shy Harry, and never honestly appreciated that he could really sing - it was usually hidden behind humour or sarcasm or some silly voice; I’d heard him sing Handbags and Gladrags a million times in his room on a karaoke machine but it was always a performance mixed with swagger and bravado as he pretended to be someone else. When he was little he sang in a primary school play as an Elvis version of the Pharaoh in Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. It was ridiculous. He was funny. As soon as it was serious, and he was being himself, it was like he’d had his shield snatched away. And he was great.