“What are you going to play?” she asked.
“I think it will be “My First Waltz” I replied.
“Oh! I was going to play that, but I'll play “The Merry Peasant” instead!” she answered.
Mortified. Humiliated. Seriously vexed..
Her item was so much more difficult than mine, and she performed it with skill and panache.
I was nine, and she was only eight!
So my entry to the performing art at the school Penny Concert in 1937 was rather less auspicious than that of a much younger Chopin or Strauss, but it was memorable, for many readers will recall having butterflies in the stomach under similar circumstances.
And so the twice weekly piano lessons went on.
Parental inquisitions. “Have you done your practice yet?” “Your half hour isn't up yet!”
The constant injunction from Miss Farrant.
“Master Williams. Near enough is not good enough!”
The constant after school running practice of getting away from the Big Kids, whose main aim in life was to grab my music and throw it over the nearest tall fence.
Miss Farrant also was organist at the local Methodist church and in those times most of the congregation sang parts, so I grew up in an atmosphere of SATB. with the opportunity of playing for occasional services from the age of fifteen.
Some time later, a male voice quartette enlisted my services as accompanist, which I ascribed to my abundant talent until I realised that I was the only one who owned a motor car.
Five of us would cram into the two wheel braked 1927 model Fiat roadster. Three in the front and two into the dicky seat.
It became even more friendly when occasionally, Joan, a lovely young soprano, also needed some personal space.
Unfortunately, my lap was occupied by the steering wheel.
It is probable that falling into the arms of the education department in my mid – twenties kept music on the agenda. I purchased an ancient pedal organ, laid it on its side and cut it down to a transportable size. For the next ten years it was utilised for singing lessons in schools, and in combination with church work and the purchase of my own piano, became the foundation of a lengthy restoration of neglected skills
Do you remember the radio shows?
The Kool Mint Hour. The Kia-Ora Sports Parade. Terry Deer and The Amateur Hour.
Just imagine filling Melbourne Town Hall today for a footy show run by a cordial company?
But that was the time and it is interesting to consider the musical fashions that really seem to pass unnoticed.
There was the era of the philharmonic choirs, the fashion paraes, the background piano at almost every function held in a reception centre and the locally performed revues.
There have been the constant needs of sections of the community – still the calls for entertainment, fund raising and the celebrations of life and death
So it has been an important part of my life to be involved in all those areas and some two thousand church services ( everything from small harmonium organs to the glory of three manual pipes) plus performing swing, jazz and classics, I record a deep sense of indebtedness to those who made it possible.
We players who take a tiny part in the overall giving of pleasure and service, truly have been privileged to touch the fingers of the towering figures of the past.
And the greatest personal lesson?
Near enough is NOT good enough!