"Thank you for bringing your flute and playing for me today," said Granny, as the last notes of "Hillbilly Holiday" fell from the air.
You are welcome," smiled The Small One, sweetly, because she knew what kind of a reward she would like. "May I go into the dining room and play with, er, play on the piano?" She disappeared and came back carrying a battered old music book. "Did you play with this one?"
"A little bit," said her Granny, "but of course the piano was my Dad's, your Great Grandpa's, really."
"My Mum says she thinks that I'm a lot like him because I play and I sing and I invent things and I like entering competitions and doing magic tricks.."
"Yes, he did all of those things," laughed Granny. "He taught himself how to play the piano. Never had a lesson in his life. And the bagpipes in a band. he kept a practise chanter for that, long after his chest got bad. He used to get your mum to sing for him when she was a little girl. Amazing Grace or Morning has Broken. I don't suppose she'd do it now."
"No, she wouldn't," I said quickly, and buried myself in the Sunday paper.
"He was still making music in his seventies, when Uncle Sam bought him a stylophone, like Rolf Harris had. remember?"
Oh, yes. I think we all remember that.
"So I am like him! But then my Mum says I'm like her Dad, too, because he played the recorder and I like to do that. We're doing some good tunes for the Easter Concert. But it's a surprise."
"She's right," said Granny. "You are. He had a few recorders. He even made a recorder himself. And because you have played so nicely for me today, I'm going to give you a present."
And she loooked at me and I knew exactly what it was she wanted me to fetch..
And that is the story of how Grandpa G's big bass recorder in its polished wooden box came to live in our house, to take pride of place on The Small One's music shelf.
And that's my tale for today. If you have one you would like to share, please link us up! Everyone welcome.