My piano sounds better than ever since it has been tuned. My piano tuner is one of the most delightful you could wish to meet. I always greet him fully dressed. When I was seven the joke on the playground was of the blind piano tuner. All piano tuners in schools seemed to be blind when I was growing up. The punch line was that the lady of the house, assuming that he was blind, like every other piano tuner, opened the front door to him naked. The punchline, that he could see perfectly well, brought the house down amongst our bunch of saucy seven year olds in the sixties. You can see we were a bunch of sophisticates in Borehamwood.. My new piano teacher hadn't heard that one, but then she is much younger than me.
I am in love with my new piano teacher. Actually I have renewed my vows that I made seven years ago with my ancient piano.
Two years of disciplined tutelage from a severe classical teacher; four years recovering from the brutal assault on my self-esteem, and now a teacher who is jolly and looking to make learning fun. She says I have musicality and a sense of rhythm. Well, what do you know? Who'd have thought? But this gentle encouragement makes me want to do more. To practise and to impress. Such a difference from when I could feel every sinew and synaptic connection twanging with tension and terrified concentration. No wonder I grimaced.
Now, never happier than practising a piece. There is nothing like it for cooling the blood, and putting a smile on my face. Earphones are on Dearest's wishlist.
Whatever happened to,
"I'm happy, if you're happy..."?
Hum along, I'm sure there's a chord here that will work with that one..
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| Move over Mozart... |
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