runningin3time

We are now a two (grand) piano family. Bella was given a Bluthner by her piano teacher, who was moving to a smaller house; and as at some point she will doubtless move out and take her piano with her, I’m hanging on to mine. I started thinking that perhaps I should start practicing again, in the hope that one day we’ll be able to do some two piano pieces together.

However her standard of piano playing far, far exceeds mine – I just scraped a pass at Grade 7 while I was at University, while she’s already playing pieces of far more difficulty than that. A couple of years ago two piano-playing friends of mine independently suggested the Chethams International Piano Summer school for her: this year she went. Being under 18, I had to chaperone her; there was a lot of sitting around but we also got to go to some amazing recitals by international professional pianists. One of the concerts which sticks in my mind was Rachmanninov played on two pianos; another was the astounding recital given on our last night by Dina Parakhina. Bella was able to play and practice on Steinways and Yamahas, had lessons from Martin Roscoe and Kathryn Stott, and organ lessons from Simon Passmore.

Not only was the piano playing and the tuition fantastic, but the facilities were – as you would expect – incredible. The modern block with the practice rooms, a recital hall and a concert hall, also had quadruple glazing – I tried doing some singing practice in one of the smaller practice rooms one evening and the acoustics were superb.

The other thing was that Chethams is situated right in the middle of Manchester, and it was my payday while we were there. I remember liking Manchester when I went there in my 20s and 30s, either to visit friends or for site visits, but feeling very ‘southern’ as soon as I opened my mouth. With redevelopment after the Arndale bombing and the introduction of an extremely convenient tram service, the city centre has been transformed: there are still plenty of old buildings (mostly Victorian, from its industrial heyday, but also a medieval cathedral – with a brand new, shiny, organ) but also modern public spaces and, by the sound of it, lots of city centre living. It’s vibrant – or at least, it is by about lunchtime (people in Manchester seem to get going about lunchtime and then through the evening – the first half of the morning is quiet, with cafes rather than shops open) – and there is an eclectic range of places to eat. We quickly found that each meal at Chethams was likely to be some version of chicken, and ended up eating out several lunchtimes and two evenings.

We came home on the Saturday, to repack and leave again on the Sunday, this time with the two boys in tow. For this second week Bella was going on a Rodolfus Foundation course in York and the boys and I were going down to Somerset to visit my Mum, before all going back to York.

The accommodation at St Peter’s school in York was rather smarter than that at Chetham’s (fewer pianos though), and the site, close to the city centre, extends right down to the river. After the boys and I had dropped Bella on the Sunday we drove to Chesterfield, where we stayed overnight in a very noisy Ibis hotel (too close to the dual carriageway) and had some highly commendable pizzas at Pizza Pi in Vicar Lane shopping centre – they make their own dough and the pizzas are wood-fired. If you need somewhere to eat in Chesterfield and like pizza, I would recommend them. Edward was very keen to go back again on the return journey, but we didn’t have time in the end.

One of the main reasons for going to Somerset – other than seeing my Mum – was to put some of my Dad’s ashes in the firebox of a steam train on the West Somerset Railway. My Mum had extremely mixed feelings about this: she basically feels that all of him should be in the church yard, where she is going to be buried when it’s her time to go. However my Dad had said to my sister that he wanted to be on a steam train. We got to step on to the footplate and have a look at the various levers and so forth (it’s very hot up there – I wouldn’t have wanted to have been a driver or fireman in high summer) and then left the little box containing part of Dad on the footplate with the fireman.

Just after we pulled out of Stogumber station (as previously discussed with the driver and fireman), a tribute was played to my Dad on the train whistle. I think he’d have loved it; my sister got a video and we both had a tearful hug.

After lunch and ice cream in Watchet we caught the train back and then went down to see my uncle and aunt: he’s just come out of hospital so was too convalescent to join us for the train, but they had both shed a few tears at the video as well. It was great to see them and to sit out in their garden enjoying the sun and some scones.

The day before had also been slightly emotional as we’d been to Aerospace in Bristol. Dad helped design the Harrier Jumpjet engine and Concorde’s engine, and I grew up very conscious of Concorde being a Bristol ‘thing’ and of feeling proud of it. I used to see it fly over when I lived in London, and I was living in Bristol (pregnant with my first child) when she did her last flight. I remember looking up the price of tickets once: stepping on to her at Aerospace was only ever going to be the way I’d fulfill my dream of going on Concorde.

On the Friday we drove back to York, this time taking my Mum with us. The journey took 6 and a half hours as the traffic was so hideous, and Bella was extremely annoyed with us for missing her and the week’s Rodolfus choir singing in York Minster. We did have a look round the Minster on the Saturday – I’ve always resented paying to go in, but felt that I really should have a look inside – and then Mum and I went to hear the choir in the chapel of St Peter’s school on the Sunday. They were absolutely superb – they were just as good as any of the Oxford or Cambridge chapel choirs. I’m rather envious of her having such a musical time – it’s made me think more about starting piano again, and also wish that there was something the equivalent of Chetham’s for adult amateur singers. Meanwhile Bella wants to do both music weeks again next summer, as well as hoping that she’ll get to Paris again, to celebrate her A level results.

I absolutely love York and had enjoyed Manchester: whilst I would never consider moving back down south as the traffic is so hideous, I do wonder about some of the northern cities. But then I get home to Cumbria (or Cumberland as it now is) and feel, well, At Home.