The harp and the French impressionists

When I was super tiny, there was a small festival at my school. It never happened before or since, I believe, but it was there. In the main hall, a place that was really huge in my small eyes. It was big enough to fit the whole school population, small as they were. I think everybody had to bring their own chairs from the classrooms.

There was music, performed by some children from the school. I don’t remember how much it was, and there might have been a creative teacher or two doing something as well. I come from a time when at least half the teaching staff did something in the creative arts (read: they dabbled on the guitar).

But one of these children was playing an instrument of gargantuan proportions. It probably was too big for her to carry, so she must have had some assistance in setting it up. But on that day, I heard my first harp. And I was in awe. I don’t remember what she played, I just remembered that I wanted to do the same. I knew it: I wanted to play the harp!

So at the end of the show we all went home, of course after taking the chair back to the classroom. I lived close to the school, so I ran home. I told my mother I wanted to play harp! Her reaction was a bit less positive than I had hoped. There was to come no harp in the house. Maybe I could just go to football?

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