I suppose I should start with how I first wanted to play the piano.
I would say that I come from a reasonably musical family. My earliest musical recollection is of playing the recorder at Junior or even Infant school. Brought up in the good tradition of the Salvation Army, I started playing brass instruments from an early age (not exactly sure what age but much younger than 10). My dad was the junior band leader and he taught me to play once I was physically big enough to handle an instrument.
I was always fascinated by the piano and if ever I was left near one I’d make some noise on it. Although as a young boy whenever there was an adult around, going near a piano was definitely not allowed. I was certainly not one of these instinctive genius kids who manages to make the instrument sing at first touch – when I say noise I mean noise! We didn’t have a piano at home but that changed as my parents separated when I was around 10. I was a very unruly young child – too much of a handful for my mum – so my dad and his new partner, Lilian, took me on. There was a piano at Lilian’s – my eldest step brother took lessons. As I started my new school (fourth year Primary school in old money), there was an assembly song “While, I kneel and pray by candlelight” that I really liked – a beautiful melody of which our school music teacher played a superb piano arrangement – so I decided I would need to learn it on the piano.
Somehow I got hold of the sheet music, persuaded my step brother to teach me how to read the bass clef (I could already read treble) and, through trial and error, learned the piece – mimicking parts of the teacher’s arrangements that of course weren’t written in the score. I have no idea how long it took me … almost definitely a very long time and quite likely painful for those having to listen to me doing it. Then, one day Lilian came and said something along the lines of “you either learn properly or you stop altogether” – and so I embarked on piano lessons with our local teacher Mrs. Dunn.
I didn’t really think about it at the time (most 10 year olds I suppose wouldn’t) but that six pounds a week was a fair amount of money for a young family with 5 boys (not to mention my brother and sister still with my mum that needed financial support too). I never showed enough gratitude for that sacrifice but fortunately parents don’t love us based on how much we deserve it! Anyway, now I do know and I am eternally grateful.
