One of my happier recent discoveries was that the people at my primary school who told me I couldn't sing a note were comparing me to the world-famous choristers there (King's College School - you must have heard the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols some Christmas, with a terrified twelve-year-old singing the first verse of Once in Royal David's City live to Earth on five minutes' notice), and that, if I had the temerity to sneak into a non-auditioning choir, I wouldn't get thrown out immediately by the ear.
At secondary school, there was a choice of spending Saturday afternoon in quiet independent study or at a choir, so I spent five years of Saturdays in the back row of the basses singing things ranging from The Dream of Gerontius to Bach's St Matthew Passion and Mozart's Requiem; at Oxford I couldn't find the relevant choir, but at Nottingham I've been welcomed by the University Choir - to the point of ending up as their membership secretary - and have sung, in a large hall and with a large and very good orchestra, in the chorus for Verdi's amazing operatic Requiem and for a collection of extracts from Smetana's Bartered Bride. I have been accused of rehearsing with undue enthusiasm at most times and in most places; I'll not deny this, though I can be convinced not to sing loudly in Czech about the glories of beer by only moderate physical force.
I went to a student production of The Yeomen of the Guard by Gilbert and Sullivan, and was so impressed at the general enthusiasm of the people there that I signed up for the society immediately. I spent several Wednesday evenings, out of a mixture of interest in combinatorics, need for upper-body exercise and desire to socialise, with the university bell-ringers, but left in terror once they'd actually started teaching me how to ring the bells; handling a quarter-ton of brass at the end of a thirty-foot rope is frightening, especially for one reasonably well-versed in physics and having a reasonable imagination.
Until age 18, I played the oboe quite enthusiastically (I reached grade 8); however, since orchestras need three oboes at the absolute maximum, and at the moment there is rather a surfeit of oboists, I haven't had the chance to play much in the last five years - and so have lost enough skill that it would be difficult to get back to a reasonable level. The fact that Nottingham's only student orchestras appear to be very serious is also problematic.