Organ-ised

Helen stopped by on a flying visit.  She’s recently moved to Exeter and came back at the weekend to finish clearing out her flat.  She packs up everything for the removal men to take and then over supper suddenly remembers that she’s left her keyboard behind.  To cut a long story short, she asks if I’ll “take care of it”.  By this she means either give it a good home (here) or give it a good home (elsewhere).  Anniemay says "yes yes" until Helen pulls an enormous box out of her car.  (Anniemay then thinks she's in big trouble.  You though, dear reader, know better.)

It must nearly 20 years old and looks a bit manky and so I switch it on to see if it stills works.  A dab of my finger and we suddenly have the sound of a rhumba or some other Latin American rhythm filling the house.  There’s no manual and I can’t see how to stop it, so pull the plug.

I switch it back on and have another go.  When I eventually manage to make the sound of a Hammond Organ (which takes me back to Georgie Fame and 1963) I realise I’m going to have to keep it.  I can’t play it or read music, so check out Yellow Pages for a local tutor and now have keyboard lessons pencilled in for 2015.  It’s going to be a busy year.