Professional musicians appear before the public as a matter of course. But the public knows little of the lives they lead.

NIGEL JARRETT tunes in and finds out .

BILL Graham-White tells the story of the conductor who turned to the audience at the end of a concert and reminded it of how good the orchestra was, in case it hadn't gained that impression for itself.

The musicians receiving plaudits from Frenchman Francois Xavier-Roth was the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, in which Bill, from Newport, plays the double bass and is one of the longest-serving members.

After more than 30 years, he looks back on that announcement from the rostrum last year as a rare event in what he considers to be the importance of breaking down barriers between listeners and musicians.

Not that the orchestra, especially since it expanded to full strength about 20 years ago and became one of the finest in the country, doesn't continually impress its legions of admirers in Britain and abroad.

But when you've been gazing out at those ranks of music-lovers for as long as he has, you develop firm ideas about who you are, what you do and how you do it.

Bill, 55, knows Gwent well. He was born and bred here, went to school at Croesyceiliog, studied double bass at the Welsh College of Music and Drama and qualified as a teacher at Cardiff College of Education before joining the then BBC Welsh Symphony Orchestra when he was 24, having been a member of the National Youth Orchestra of Wales - the 'Nash'. "My ambition as a young lad was to be able to sit behind that box (the double bass) and play and get paid for it," he said. "I achieved that in my mid-20s, when I was also playing bass guitar in various bands."

Playing the conventional double bass is a determined physical act different from performing on other stringed instruments.

The relationship between double bass player and instrument is almost sensual and close, especially when the two are parted. "We got off the plane once in an Eastern bloc country and were travelling in a coach behind an open lorry with eight double bass cases wobbling upright in the back," he said. "The lorry went off to the hall and we went to the hotel. But they all arrived safely."

Luckily, his main instrument - the one he plays with the orchestra - is held by the BBC, while others lean against the wall at the Welsh longhouse where he lives with his wife Glenys, head of music at Hartridge High School in Newport, and son Rob, a tuba-player about to follow his father to the Welsh College.

Their two other children, prospective flying instructor James and psychologist Charlotte, are in their 20s and also musical. "Orchestral musicians are treated with kid gloves," he said. "I get my suit together, hoping I haven't included white socks by mistake, but in the concert hall the music is put on the music-stands for us and the stool is in place. All I have to do is take the instrument, which has been delivered there independently, out of its case."

It's a bit like travelling abroad and having your luggage transported for you, which is exactly what has happened in the BBCNOW's many trips overseas.

In Siberia, it was advised to take Mars bars and the like because the food was expected to be non-sustaining. Despite nibbling on chocolate and the presence of a travelling doctor, several musicians were taken ill.

Even at home work can be gruelling, with rehearsals, performances and recording to fit in. It's not nine to five, for sure. "When you finish a concert at night you are on such a high," he explained. "If we are playing in North Wales, I will drive home straight afterwards and I am as awake when I arrive three hours later as I was at the end of the concert. It can play havoc with your home life but I've got used to it."

His long service means he was around not only when the orchestra expanded but also when crucial appointments were made of conductors able to make the enlargement work, notably Mariss Jansons and then Tadaaki Otaka, its current conductor-laureate.

But a lot of Bill's stories come from his time playing in Gwent pit bands for amateur musicals. "I once did Annie Get Your Gun when Annie fired her weapons in the air," he said. "Nothing happened until she replaced them in her holster, and then they went off, taking away the tassles down the side of her trousers. "The brilliant thing was that one of the cowboys standing at the bar had the presence of mind to throw his 'whisky' over her. It was so instantaneous and professional."

Memories crowd in now that Bill is five years away from his official retirement age and playing with none of the decline in powers that every professional musician dreads. "I have to wear specs for reading like many people of my age and sometimes struggle with the peripheral vision needed to catch significant movements around me," he said. "But it's something you have to get used to and it doesn't affect my playing. "I feel pretty fit so I'm not bothered. I get lots of exercise from gardening, DIY and car maintenance."

And from jazz, which he plays with a couple of other orchestra members, and which the five-string, fretless bass guitar Glenys bought him for his latest birthday will help give even more variety to a fulfilling musical life. "I'm still looking towards the future, not the end," he said. "Even though I know my career will come to a close in five years, I feel very privileged."