7 daysin thelife of; Sarah Rhodes, soprano in Scottish Opera For

Monday

IT'S the start of our Scottish Opera For All workshop for special needs adults and young people, culminating in a performance of Madama Butterfly at The Lighthouse in Glasgow on Friday. I'm introduced to everyone - most have Down's syndrome. I thought it would be difficult to communicate, but this worry is dispelled when I realise that the main language barrier is the fact I am speaking too softly!

It's hard when you haven't had any experience of working with the mentally handicapped, but eventually I begin behaving as I would with anyone else. They are a bit reticent at first but after doing some exercises - such as making animal noises - they really start to come out of their shells. They are absolutely bursting with enthusiasm and dedication to the work at hand - much more so than opera singers, who tend to lark about most of the time!

Today is also the first day of my new detox diet: no meat, no fish, no dairy products. But the biggest killer is no booze.

Tuesday One of the adults falls over, and it is touching to see one of the smaller kids try to pick up a woman twice her size. She eventually tumbles over as well, but by this time the woman has begun to experience some discomfort in her ear so an ambulance is called just to make sure she is OK.

Go to see Hannibal. Usually I have friends over for dinner on Tuesdays, but I'm quite a long way from my home in England. So instead Lecter has me for supper has me disappointed, that is. The film, in all its goriness, is a bit silly. I've not read the book but seeing this only proves I made the right decision.

Wednesday

GO to a friend's for a dinner party. Out of respect for my detox diet, everyone eats a dish of corn pasta. Although nobody says anything, it is plain that they find it as disgusting as I do. Still, I appreciate the thought.

Unfortunately I can't even take any booze to wash it down. As I am driving home I tune into Classic FM for the show Access All Areas - and, lo and behold, they mention the Madama Butterfly project. Indeed, more importantly, they mention me - as "very engaging", no less. I feel like winding down the window and telling the first person I come across, but I resist the urge for obvious reasons.

Thursday The excitement is building for the performance tomorrow. The participants seem to get more focused as the days progress. It is the small moments, though, that touch the heart: little things that they do.

One girl has brought in a CD of her favourite music, from My Fair Lady. As soon as it is put on, I start singing, accompanied by other members of the company. The girl is shocked at hearing these people suddenly burst into song, but she soon gets into it and after a while she is singing as if she aspires to be the fourth tenor.

Friday Finally, the day of reckoning. It is slightly nerve- racking for me and the participants before the four o'clock show, but the whole thing turns out brilliantly: a huge success. Everyone is great, and no major hiccups occur. The workshop participants put a great many professional performers to shame with their diligence, especially in comparison to how they were at the start - withdrawn and wary.

A bit of meditation is in order before the seven o'clock performance, but this one goes down even better. Go out for a drink after the show - not that I take anything stronger than fruit juice, but at least it lets me wind down.

Weekend DrivE home to Essex, where my humble home awaits me and a newly delivered rowing machine to complement my new diet. Sunday is spent trying to get to grips with constructing the damned thing. The manual has a baffling dot-to-dot picture, the kind of which I haven't seen in years. If only this were as enjoyable as getting to grips with a diligent and heart-warming bunch of people.

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