As a care home singer, every now and then I notice someone in the residents’ lounge who seems, dare I say, determined to make it clear they’re not interested in what’s going on. Before my performance has even begun, they may have a very definite idea that this afternoon’s entertainment isn’t really for them. And that’s absolutely okay.

Some people simply do not want to join in. Music may not be their thing, or not their thing today. And they may decide to leave the room. But I get a feeling sometimes that the person making a point of letting me know they’re not interested might actually really want to join in and be entertained.

As a performer, I’m naturally aware of my audience and how they’re responding. Sometimes, not often, I notice someone making it clear that they have their own opinion about what’s going on. I’ve come to recognise this kind of moment, and listen to my intuition, just to see if there's a connection to be made.

And that happened recently during a performance.

One resident made it very clear from the beginning that they were not interested in being entertained. They gave me some very definite signals and gestures that left me in no doubt they didn’t want to be part of what was going on.

And that really was perfectly okay, so I carried on with the performance without putting any pressure on them to join in. I sang the songs, chatted to the room and allowed them to respond in their own way.

After years of singing in care homes, I’ve become pretty good at trusting my instinct. I’ve learned to trust it when it tells me there’s a connection worth waiting for and that, with a little patience, something can change.

On this particular occasion, that’s exactly what happened. My intuition was right. A smile appeared, a foot started to tap, a joke was shared and the banter began. Suddenly, just like that, there’s a little spark between us. And sometimes, the person who seemed least interested at the beginning is the one who ends up asking, “When are you coming back?” And that’s exactly what happened with this resident.

It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. Sometimes it’s simply a smile, a shared look or a small change in someone’s expression. But when you’ve been given every indication that someone wants nothing to do with you, those tiny moments can feel enormous. And it reminded me once again why I love what I do.

Because being a care home singer isn’t just about singing songs people know and love. It’s about noticing people. It’s about giving them time and space, meeting them where they are and being open to what might unfold.

Sometimes, you just need to wait. 😍