pianos

I was a good pianist once upon a time.
I finished my actual piano lessons when I was 16, and then after I moved to London I stopped playing.
Even though I could have used the music school pianos at Chigwell.
Stupid.

But, anyway, bottomline, I miss it so much.
We have a piano at home, but an electric one. Which makes me sad.
It's a good piano, but it has no soul.
So I don't want to play it.

However, I realised something, some time ago.
That during the tours I have access to so so so many grand pianos, at different venues.
So my plan is to use the piano at home to get myself back into playing, and prepare some pieces, so when I have time before the tour concerts I can whack my music out and just binge hardcore on grand pianos.

This excites me so much, but in a very, profoundly blissful way, honestly.
I used to iron out all sorts of emotions and problems with playing and practising.
I still have our old piano, it's in my room, but it's not really in working condition because it doesn't stay in tune. It was my grandfather Viktor Friedrich's piano. (That name doesn't sound too Estonian, does it?) And it carries so much sentimental value.
It's my piano, you know?

Play.
M.