Jonny McCambridge: At the SSE Arena for the Peace Proms…there’s just one important thing I have to do first

“Would you mind taking your seat now sir? We’re about to start.”

I nod in agreement, although I am not quite done. I continue walking behind the stage in the area directly in front of where the children are seated. There is a continual buzz; a hum of excited chatter and laughter. I am trying to find my son.

There are challenges in this task. I am slightly removed from the raised rows where the children sit. In addition, they have all been instructed to wear the same clothing, white shirt or t-shirt and dark trousers or skirt. From my vantage, with the dimmed lighting, they all look much the same. I have to work hard to focus on the features of individual children in what is beginning to look like a vain effort to find my boy.

A performer carrying a saxophone walks past me and I have to shift slightly to allow her access to the stage. Some dancers are warming up close by. Another staff member approaches me.

“The concert is starting sir; would you mind taking a seat now?”

I nod again, but I am still not done. There are a few musicians on the stage and the process of tuning stringed instruments has begun. I am close enough to hear individual breaths as the reeds of woodwind instruments are blown.

The event is the Peace Proms staged by the Cross Border Orchestra of Ireland. Their full musical programme will be complemented with choral support from the Belfast Peace Proms Choir.

My son has been selected to be part of this massive choir. He is about to take part in a musical event which he will remember for the rest of his life. I know how excited and nervous he is, and I want to find him.

Rather than randomly searching, I begin a new tactic of systematically scanning each specific area, going row by row through the seats, searching the faces for anyone I recognise.

But my lack of patience and the time pressure betrays me and I resort to doing a wide panoramic sweep of the large sections of seating, with hopes fading that I will be able to identify him before the concert begins.

Another staff member is approaching.

I tell myself that it does not matter. It is enough to know that my son is here and for him to know that his mum and dad are in the audience somewhere. He knows, because we have told him multiple times, how proud we are that he is to sing to a packed house at one of Northern Ireland’s largest venues in a professional production.

I have written before about how much taking part in music, singing in a choir, has helped my son to overcome his shyness, how it has given him a focus and a confidence that has reassured and delighted us as parents.

He sang and played guitar in the Christmas concert, performed carols in our village and has a part in the school’s musical production this spring. However, singing at the SSE Arena with 3,000 other kids, is on a different scale.

Perhaps it is just my constant sentimental daddy silliness which has made it seem so important that I find him in the crowd to enable him to know where we are. Perhaps the reassurance is more for my sake than for his. I know that he will be fine. The staff member comes to my side and smiles.

"You’re really going to have to sit down sir.”

“Yes, of course.”

I begin to step away. But then I stop, turn back, and take one last look. Almost in desperation, I strain my eyes to see into the highest, most distant rows of seats.

And then, I think I recognise someone. It’s hard to be sure at first so I step closer, standing on a small wooden ramp which is not there for my use. I peer harder. It is a girl from my son’s class.

I look along the line and then into the row behind, quickly scanning the dimly lit faces.

I see one of my son’s friends, and then another, and then, finally, high above the stage, I can see my son. He is talking animatedly with his friends.

I begin to shout and wave my arms. There is no reaction, so I move a little higher, jumping up and down to attract attention. The stage behind me is now close to full of performers. I continue jumping and waving but my son is looking the other way.

A girl from the class spots me. I can see her turn around and alerting my boy. A few of the children see me now and begin to wave back. My son turns and looks around anxiously until he sees me and waves also.

He is some distance from me and I don’t want to embarrass him in front of his friends. I point to the part of the arena where his mum and I are sitting and I think I can see him nodding his head to indicate that he understands.

The lights are dimmed further, and the conductor is now on the stage.

The truth is that nothing much has been accomplished by my solo wandering, but I know that I feel so much better. I like to think that my son does too.

Before I leave, I point quickly to my heart and then at my son. I give him a thumbs-up. He repeats the gesture towards me.

I have to go and take my seat now; it is time for the concert.