Penny Whistle - Michel Henri (suggested reading .TXT) 📗

The Penny Whistle Written by Michel Henri


Quote:
I came into this world as a child
I live as a child
l have the thoughts of a child
l will die as a child

WHY!

Because the examples the grownups
set for me as a child
were just to horrendous
for me to learn anything good from.


Michel Henri


The Penny Whistle Written by Michel Henri
All articles by Michel Henri are copyright ©Michel Henri and should not be reproduced without the author's prior written consent.

What a fantastic blow, this man they called ‘the old tramp’ could really
make me sing, he was just the greatest! Mind you, his teeth were a bit rotten
and his breath, let us just say it was bad, very bad. However, the music he
made, well let’s just say; that it was from another world.
I would hear people declare, time and time again; as they dropped money in
his old battered bowler:
‘That’s just far out man! Just far out!’
I was so very proud to be part of this unique happening.
At the end of the day he would stuff me into the side pocket of his old
battered overcoat; and l wouldn’t see the light of day again, till he started to
play again the next morning in the dirty old underpass.
The condition of the places he played made no difference to the old tramp.
The quality of his blowing was always something l looked forward to, he
always gave it the best he could. I was so very proud of him but then with a
flash it was over.
The old tramp suddenly dropped me from his lips and l rolled into the
gutter, the old tramp fell over on top of me dead. I knew he was dead as l
heard his last breath leave his battered old body, it sounded like an
orchestra complete with strings and a cathedral organ. I imagined glorious
angels singing and leading the way for his soul out of the gutter, and into
musical heaven where his spirit belonged.
A short time later people came and took his body away, leaving me by
myself in the gutter, where he had dropped me.
I have no idea how long l was there but eventually a man came by and
picked me up. He cleaned of the muck by spitting on me and rubbing the
dirt of my tin body with a piece of paper. Then he put me into his pocket.
The next thing l remembered was being dropped into a sink and given a
good wash and scrub up. All my cavities were washed out and l felt clean
inside and out. I was like a brand new Penny Whistle, l even smelt first-
class. Then I was placed into a small comfortable compartment next to a
beautiful Oboe: “Oh love at first sight” and then it all went dark.

It was dark for quite a long time, and then the sun came out. Well l
thought it was the sun but it wasn’t really the sun. It was a large flood light
looking down on me from a lighting rig fixed into the roof of the building l was
in. I looked around:
‘It’s ok! Don’t worry!’ said the beautiful Oboe; ‘We are going to rehearse with
the Maestro in about thirty minutes, at the moment all the musicians have
gone to have their coffee and biscuits.’
‘Will they let me play with the orchestra’ l asked excitedly.
‘Well it’s not up to me Penny. I can call you Penny can’t l? As you are a
Penny Whistle aren’t you. And you can call me Oboe.’
‘That’s fantastic! Thank you Oboe, I do hope they let me play, all my life l
have been playing in the gutter. But people have said that l have a great
sound and that l am very good.’
‘I’ll ask Steinway the Grand Piano’ said Oboe kindly:
‘He thinks he is the boss around here.’
‘You are joking! I hope!’ said the grand piano who was listening to the
conversation. ‘I am the boss! And if you think l will be playing for a Penny
Whistle when l cost more than two hundred thousand pounds! And have
played for the Three Tenors, and many great artists including
Vladimir Ashkenazy, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, Victoria de los Ángeles,
Sergey Prokofiev, Shura Cherkassky, Paul Hindemith, Andrés Segovia,
Benjamin Britten and Francis Poulenc, to name just a few, you better have
another think, what do you say about this Stradivarius?’
The arrogant violin didn’t say very much, all he said was:
‘You a Penny! Me! Three million, English quid’s!’
Then he went on and on about the history of the Stradivarius family. Their
legacy and the intricacies of handmade instruments.
Then there was a rumble of thunder from the back of the orchestra pit, which
rattled the chairs and music stands, then flashed the lights, the three
majestic Timpani’s shouted out:
‘Come on you two give the tin man a chance, you always have it good. Let
the little tin man do his thing, you might even learn a thing or two.’
‘I do not think so!’ said Stradivarius, in his upper class Italian voice:
‘He is made of cheap tin, just a pennies worth!’
‘How awful!’ said the Grand Piano, slamming his key lid down with a bang.
‘What is happening to this business! If you ask me it’s all going down the
drainpipe. It will soon be spoons, and the comb and paper. We have to
make our stand with this kind of riff raff!’
‘Riff! Raff!’ I looked at my little body, l was clean and a smelt lovely.

The Trumpets, Trombones and the all the brass section gave a loud discord
fanfare which filled the hall:
‘We play for the SAS and all the armed forces and we say the little tin man
gets his chance! Therefore, you two, who are always up your own
backsides! Don’t mess with us!’
A crashing sound came from the Cymbals in agreement.
Even the Triangles, Chimes, and Castanets were getting in on the act, for
my acceptance, saying to me:
‘Don’t give up you’ll make it.’ But without much effect as they were drowned
out by the crash of the Cymbals.
I pulled myself up to my full 12 inches and shouted at the top of my voice:
‘Look l don’t want to cause you any trouble, l just wanted to play in the
orchestra that’s all. I have been playing all my life, but unfortunately only in
the gutter, this would be a dream come true for me’
The Grand Piano slamming his key lid up and down again, said nastily,
‘A dream for you, but a nightmare for me!’
‘And me!’ added Stradivarius, plucking his strings.
All the Woodwind Instruments agreed with the acceptance and so did the
Percussion group, making their judgments in favour of the tin man, by
playing the loudest discord in the concert hall that had ever been heard.
All of a sudden all the instruments went quiet, not a sound could be heard
not even a pin drop. It was deadly silent, not a movement, everything was
motionless.
Then after a second or two the pit lights went on and slowly all the
musicians walked into the orchestral pit and made ready to play their
instruments.
The maestro came in last and tapped his baton on his podium, then all the
musicians sat down or took their places ready to play.
Oboe, stood next to me and waited her turn, at the same time l wondered
what was going to happen to me, would they let me play?
Oboe said in a whisper…
“How many times have you fell on your face Penny, and been laughed at by
the human race, don’t worry you’ll make it, stand tall and just take it!”
I looked up at her; she was so beautiful and had such a wonderful voice, l
replied:
“The Grand Piano, what’s his name, Steinway, and that violin Stradivarius
they don’t like me because l’m made of tin, and that goes for their friends
Viola, Cello and Double Bass, but they haven’t heard me play yet”
Then a voice said:
‘Come on you two, it’s time we did our bit. A big hand picked up Oboe then
to my astonishment, another big hand picked me up and walked with me up
the stairs to a place in the middle of the orchestra. Wow! Feeling proud
wasn’t in it, l was placed on my own small stand by the side of the beautiful
Oboe. Me, one minute in the gutter with the old tramp lying on top of me,
now l was on the orchestral stand next to the beautiful and talented Oboe.
The musician tuned up the beautiful Oboe, getting her mouth piece
moist. Then to my astonishment and l think to the aggravation of both
Stradivarius and the Grand Piano, he put down the Oboe and picked me up
and put me to his lips, well l was flabbergasted, thrilled, astonished, shocked,
gob smacked you name it, l was it.
Then after touching me with his lips, he said excitedly:
‘Well this will be a first for me Penny, l only hope l can play you, as fine as
the old tramp did. We are going to accompany ourselves, and the full
orchestra will be our backing band: I wonder what the old tramp would think
about you now?’
I wondered if he would be looking down at me from musical heaven, after all
he taught me all l know.
The maestro tapped his baton on the rostrum to get attention from the
musicians and said:
‘We have a change of order we will be playing number 13 from the big book,
“The Penny Whistle Polka”
The rehearsal audience clapped their hands and the beautiful Oboe
whispered to me…
‘Now you can show them Penny, play with all your heart, and enjoy it.’
The big hand took me carefully and lifted me up to his mouth. I could
see over all the other instruments. Steinberg and Strady didn’t look that
happy! I can tell you, but all the others were with me.
Me! In the middle of the London Classical Orchestra, just unbelievable!
That’s what it was, just unbelievable!.
The big hand held me so gently; l played like l had never played before
remembering all the skills l had been taught by my teacher ‘the old tramp.’
Yes! I could tell he was there with me, looking at me, and egging me on.
We came to the end of the Polka and all the musicians stood up clapping
and cheering. The big hand held me up high in the air and waved me from
right to left.