Welcome to the Workshop

Welcome to the Workshop

Thursday, August 18, 2011

The First Farewell.

This is my piano.

It was my grandmother's piano and is dated around 1905. Old, heavy and a little difficult to tune, it needs some new strings. But it is a part of me, another limb, even if I don't play it that often anymore. Whenever I had troubles as a child/teenager I would immerse myself in music and just play for hours. This big old friend got me through a lot of angst.
One of the challenges of relocating has always been what to do with it. It's not great to store a piano in a concrete box, so we've usually managed to find an accommodating family member. This time it is my brother's turn. 
Last Thursday was D-Day. The piano removalist was booked for 1pm and I tidied the room up and packed away most of the sheet music. I felt very emotional that day, preparing to say goodbye to an old friend.
In my mind, I had a blog post all prepared. With a melancholic air I would describe how I played all my favourite tunes from the past, including this...

And then I was going to take a photo of the truck as it took my friend away. Yes, I was feeling rather indulgent, perhaps the piano brings out the adolescent in me.
As it turned out, the piano guy was late. I rang him around 1.30 and he explained that he was held back with a client and wouldn't be able to make it until around 4. No problem.
At 4.30 I started to call him again, getting only his message bank for the next hour. You can imagine the last message I left for him. I never heard from him again. My fantasy of a romantic farewell to the piano was well and truly squashed!
Yesterday. Round 2.
I had found an alternative removalist through a friend. A lovely German guy named Boris. He was five minutes late and extremely apologetic for that. He whisked the piano away and I neglected to take a photo of the truck as it pulled out of the driveway. I didn't even stand on the porch and wave a hanky.
So, my friend is gone for now. I'm not as moved to tears as I was a week ago. When you're under the hammer you just can't predict how you will react in stressful situations. Sometimes it's a drama, and sometimes it's not. Sometimes you kick, sometimes you get kicked! 
Apparently that's how I roll these days.



  1. Oh Jen ... I feel sad for you ... but keep "kicking", you are one step closer xxx

  2. sometimes you kick. sometimes you get kicked. sometimes you just keep both feet on the ground.

    A pox on that first removalist! May his own piano stings constantly stretch and tighten randomly so his piano is ALWAYS OUT OF TUNE.

  3. Goodbye for now old friend. You'll be easing music from those teeth at some point in the not too distant future. Till then, keep humming along Jen! XX


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