Locked down with my Ukulele 36

These are strange times and today I have nothing to write about.

I normally would have taken a walk observed something or thought about something. Today I just felt I needed to say something without having thought about what to say.

I’ve done my housework and should be doing the ironing. Which, I will probably do later if I can find a film I want to watch while I do it.

I have been locked down on my own with my ukulele. I’m not nearly as good at playing it as I would like to be. I have to work quite hard at what I can play. The simple cords I can play quite easily and fortunately most of the tunes I come across are simple. However, there is always a doozy waiting in middle of a bridge that ends up putting your fingers into a twisted mess.

My grandmother on my fathers side and my grandfather on my mothers side both played instruments. My Grandfather “played” violin. To be kind he could get a tune out of it. At least 25% of the notes were right and in the right order. But anyone who has been in the presence of someone learning violin will know that the process on the way to virtuoso professional is, to be kind again, less than pleasurable for the observer.

He did like his classical music and he did like it loud. He worked for the railway and did shifts. So I suppose he got used to playing music loud when the neighbours were at work. He came to live with us for a while and the volume of his opera did become one of the causes of contention while he was with us. He’d been on his own for some years and had is own way which didn’t fit in with progressive family life. He had a really sweet tooth and my mother didn’t appreciate giving my sister nearly neat orange squash when he made her a drink. His drink of choice was Abbot Ale and orange squash. 50-50. I have tried it but I wouldn’t recommend it.

I don’t think my grandmother had a music lesson in her life. She played piano by ear. She played it well. I wish I had inherited those genes. We used to visit regularly and I remember one day she was coming down the hallway towards the front room.

She said “put the kettle on I’ve just heard a song on the radio. I don’t want to forget it.”

I wish I could remember what the tune was but nana playing the piano was part of family life. She could hear a tune and play it almost straight away.

That side of the family came from London. They were bombed out of their homes and were evacuated to Suffolk during the war. It would appear my grand parents were from opposite ends of the cultural scale. Nana used to play in the pub (The Pickerel, a sort of small Pike type fish) and would take requests for favourite tunes. She was in the centre of the pubs “good old knees up.” I think she really enjoyed it.

I’ve looked the pub up and seen some photographs. Pre-Covid they had live bands in the pub. I don’t think they are doing the style of music my grandmother played.

I’m Henery the Eighth, I am (1910) Fred Murray and R P Weston

This was originally a music hall song. In the sixties It was released by Joe Brown and later was a number one hit by Herman’s Hermits (sung by Peter Noone).

I’ve seen both these artists perform this song. They both drive this song at great speed. It’s great fun.

And Nana’s other arf was called Henry.

Stay safe

P.S I’m posting this without checking as much as normally do. I know some unintentional errors have still made it through. So I apologise to anyone who finds this a little irritateing.