Play it again, Pat

Will the return of an old family favourite be music to everyone’s ears?

- PAT McDERMOTT

‘Not bad for an old girl who hasn’t had her ivories tinkled for a while,” said Max. “Why thank you,” I gushed.

“He means the piano,” said the MOTH (Man Of The House). “Not you!”

Max and Reg were big blokes. They carried the piano to our living room from a basement storage cage where it had been ‘resting’ between engagements.

With grunts and a few terse orders (CAREFUL! OTHER SIDE NOW! WATCH THE WALL! OKAY! ON MY SIGNAL – DOWN!) Max and Reg placed the piano in the designated spot.

I’d felt guilty seeing the piano, alone and unloved down there, when I went to the storage cage for suitcases or the highchair because another grandchild had arrived. I wanted it back in our lives. Well, back in

MY life! I’d had piano lessons growing up and so did each of the kids.