My poor old piano has moved house, been shoved from room to room and generally mistreated. I've been meaning to get it tuned for simply ages. This morning, I heard a piece on the radio, thought, 'I can play that!', did so, winced, and at last got round to phoning the piano tuner. Amazingly, he said he could come this afternoon so I'm now slightly poorer but have a piano which doesn't hurt the ear.
For years, when huskyteer was having lessons, the piano was tuned regularly by a wonderful Glaswegian who always termed himself ‘Jock Cooper, the pianner chuner.’ He was one of those people with a natural ear, who could play absolutely anything. He used an aftershave which hung around the room for days afterwards. One of his favourite stories about his life in music concerned tuning the piano for a Peter Katin concert, ‘and Katin says, ‘Jock Cooper played Chopin and Chopin won.' Ha ha!’ I was sorry when he had to retire. The new man is very nice, though.
Don’t get any ideas about my piano playing: I’m rubbish. But it’s very good for me. A while ago, the last piano factory in England closed down. How sad is that?