My piano is not bad. The keys are still working well, and the sound hasn’t gone the way of Julie Andrews after her throat operation. But at a higher grade, I need an instrument that is more sensitive.
So I walked into this Japanese music school and started tinkering on the showroom pianos. The test was for a rounded full-bodied sound that can take me through the periods from Bach to Tchaikovsky. So I played the rondo from Haydn’s Sonata 48 in C.
And then a fat finger comes out of nowhere, points to a sign on the piano that read ‘No practising please’, and a tinny whiny voice said those words. I completed my phrase and turned around to be faced with a pudgy boy to be about 10 years old, with a smirk on his face. He was surrounded by his Mum, sister and maid.
I smiled sweetly and said, “oh don’t worry about me, I’m not practising. I’m buying a piano. Trying it out you know?” and ended my little speech with another super sweet smile. And looked his Mum in her eye.
His smirk was replaced by a sheepish smile. His Mum smiled, perhaps out of embarrassment of out of knowing that someone had put junior in place. His maid tried to stifle her laughter.
Smirking pudgy boy 0, Mimosa 1.