You can have my piano. It is worth more than yours and is much nicer.
Bless her, she wasn't to know!
I thought about it. And then thought about it some more, and my head and my heart agreed. Loudly; No don't do it. And the message from my friends, the same; No don't do it.
And yet...
If either of my girls ever say they want to learn, then surely a more superior piano makes sense? Never mind the emotional attachment I have to mine. And after all, mine is held together by a single wire (so the tuner told me a few years ago when he was last here). Mine, bought by my parents who didn't have a bean, but turns out, had a piano. So that my sister and I could fulfil our wish to learn. Mine, sounding as brilliant to me now, as it did to me then; a small child.
And so...
I cleaned the ivory keys with milk in the same way I watched my Grandmother clean them as that same small child. And gave it to a gratetful neighbour, who instructed two burly men to whisk it away in exchange for a fish and chip lunch. (After watching them struggle, I can't help but think they were robbed blind - a piano is a cumbersome thing).
Piano tuners are often blind. They have acute hearing, you see? Anyway, Sean, the piano tuner that told me about the wonder wire, arrived once more to work his magic on my latest piano that had been wheeled in by Vlad via his Any Van via my aunt.
And then...
...Something unexpected happened.
Turns out the new one couldn't be tuned.
Far from being tampered with, it had been left to wrack and ruin.
It had been neglected by all, except the family of mice who had set up within and nibbled on the hammers - those that hadn't rusted in the flood.
Tears later. I felt as broken as the piano. Not that it's broken exactly. I mean my kids could still bash out a tune on it if they wished. To the untrained ear, it could even sound okay? And as long as the tune they played didn't take in the two or three dud keys; it'd be fine. But what about when I sit down to play?
A dear friend comforted and cajoled.
And then put the extra into ordinary, and approached my neighbour. Who approached me.
We were to swap.
Imagine that.
Today it arrived home.
Funny how pianos and people aren't always as black and white as they seem.
One thing's for certain... Friends and neighbours can be kind kind kind.
And I feel complete again.
As if a part of me has returned.
But oh... You move a piano, you tune a piano.
Since rolling sadly away and wheeling brightly back, my old Joanna's top octave has acquired a sustained ring. We are akin, for I also have a permanent high ring these days. (Tinnitus is a dreadful condition).
Yes. You move a piano, you tune a piano.
I'm waiting for Sean and his lovely assistant Jenny to return for the second time in a month, and I'm hoping this time, he'll be able to work his magic?
Meanwhile I sit and contemplate the piano lesson.
HINDSIGHT IS A WONDERFUL THING... having moved her, ironically the tuner could do no more with my lovely old piano which had suddenly acquired many more 'issues'. Don't get me wrong, she was still good for someone that wanted an introduction to piano or even to learn grade 1. We managed to source and buy another that sounds simply amazing, although of course she is no where near as beautiful to look at. How could she be?! This one has since gone to another new home, a friend and her twin boys in Northamptonshire are currently enjoying the delights of the newly christened 'Gertie.' Meanwhile, my lovely friend across the road, was more than content with my rusty aunt's old piano, for her children to bash about on, nibbled hammers and all.