Many of you know that I visit two hospitals as a volunteer, one to visit the wards and another to play piano in the hospital reception area. This story is a reflection on the latter. There are a few other volunteers that play on different days of the week. I do a Thursday morning and this post's heading is from Thursday just gone. I have been playing there six years I think. Its a good platform for me, and I have improved each year becoming more confident and more showy if I'm allowed to say that! Anyway its all good fun and I often interact with passers by who say "you make a difference". But the title above is "50p and a soldiers coat". Here goes:
It is true that some outpatients or visitors have passed me money. It’s not that I place an upturned hat on the piano lid, or show a scribbled note on cardboard that I’m short of cash, but people do occasionally ask if I’d like a coffee, or can they buy me a cake. There is a hospital café close to.
I’m always very grateful to be asked, but I usually decline, happy as I am with the gesture itself. Perhaps if I sat squat on the pavement, outside the hospital entrance and played a penny whistle, then I might well receive a few coins. Years ago, I began to learn the accordion and for a dare, I played in in a London street, by a newspaper stand in Holborn. This was in mid- December and was no mean feat, being quite chilly. But the only tune I could play was “How Much is that Doggy in the Window”. Despite people getting on and off at a nearby bus-stop and despite bankers and lawyers trotting by, I received nada, nothing, not a penny, although the newspaper lady seller thought it quite amusing, knowing I was playing the fool.
Anyway, I digress. But I do remember a guy giving me money mid performance on the hospital baby grand. It was in fact a Japanese man who placed a five-pound note between my fingers as my right hand cantered around the top end of the keyboard. You see, one doesn’t stop mid flow; one must complete the song! I turned to face him, not knowing whether it was yen or £ sterling between my fingers and thanked him for his generosity. It was in fact, a five-pound note.
The Japanese guy made a short bow and pottered off. I continued to play with the £5 note still stuck between my four fingers. It seemed to give me more energy. It certainly made me feel more important. And more edge to my concentration – to continue to play but not to let the note slip out. No one has given me anything like that since, but Monday just gone, a man in his late twenties approached me at the piano and passed me a 50p coin.
I took it that he was showing his appreciation. I smiled and thanked him but then he said “I’m on benefits” as if he’d have liked to have paid more. Well, I said “No, no, no, please take it back, you need it far more than me”. And I passed the 50p back to him and I said, “your gesture is far greater”.
I’d almost finished my set with a tall elderly man with beard, approached me wearing a navy-blue long military coat with shiny brass buttons all down the front. It was as if he had come from another era. He was walking slowly using a metal frame but paused to tell me he had heard my play before and always enjoys it. He said he found it peaceful. I thought of him as an old soldier, and I thought of my dad, and it made me feel good.
Well next Wednesday about two dozen volunteers are being treated to a posh pub lunch at the Kings Head, Roehampton. A chance to mingle, be merry, and maybe pull an early cracker!
