Hand in glove with my upbringing and memories of my
mother….or more accurately, ‘hands without gloves’, the sound of the harmonium
provided a musical accompaniment to my childhood. Its rather reedy, yet
soothing tones filling the little church at Bratton, welcomed worshippers every
Sunday. In summer the big door would be open and the sounds of the old hymns
and voluntaries would flood out into the churchyard. I can remember scrambling
up the steep path from the road below, hearing the harmonium reaching a final
cadence as a sort of summons to the Rector to start the service, and me,
hurrying to reach a pew to join in singing the first verse of the opening hymn.
As I say in my book, Mummy pedalled away at St Nicholas Church for over forty
years, always giving of her best – and I’m sure the harmonium responded
likewise for no-one else could quite achieve those warm, pleasant sounds.
I spotted a smaller instrument in an antiques shop
about twenty years ago, couldn’t resist buying it for £100 (cheap, I thought),
and here it is today in our home – having travelled across the Channel and back
in the meantime. It is still played occasionally, mostly hymns and ‘church’
music, but I remember our daughter Isobel playing a very nifty Scarlatti sonata
– the keys working splendidly and her feet pumping madly beneath!
I attach three photos – the first of the harmonium
in the village church at Bratton Seymour taken in the 1980’s, and the other two
of our harmonium at present in a bedroom in Lincolnshire.
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