
An electronic keyboard gathering dust and cobwebs in a cupboard caused me to wonder about its purpose and why I’d hung on to it for so long without using it. I often thought about dusting it off and teaching myself to play better. But my old husband was quite scathing about the instrument and my ability, so I never did.
Neuroplasticity and music
I knew from reading about neuroplasticity that learning a musical instrument (or another language) could be very beneficial for brains, especially ageing ones. I’ve written about neuroplasticity and new skills here.
Attempts to relearn French (first learned at school) before my first trip to France had not been a resounding success although I enjoyed trying to speak French. I did not, and still do not, have a sharp enough ear to reproduce the sounds, although I occasionally like to attempt to read French-language magazines.
Perhaps learning to play the keyboard once I lived alone would be more my style?
Failure to learn music as a child
My mother and her sisters played the piano. They enjoyed standing round the one in our house, singing together. It seemed natural that I would also learn to play. I went to lessons for two or three years. In the end, the venture became another disappointment to my family.
There were a few reasons for my reluctance as a music pupil.
The first – I was a timid child and terrified of the nun who taught the lower-grade music pupils at my convent school. Her reputation went before her. She always treated me with kindness, but there were rumours about a girls whose knuckles she’d hit with her ruler for too many wrong notes. Maybe I’d be next?
Then, the piano in our house sat in the far corner of the lounge room. The room itself was at the end of what seemed like a long corridor. I remember it was always dim or even sometimes quite dark.
My mother insisted I practise every day, usually while she spent time with my younger sister in the kitchen preparing the evening meal, far from where I sat alone at the piano.
My abject terror of that room stemmed, I imagine now, from being a war-time child. Fear of war, of the dark, of enemies, monsters and witches plagued me.
Eventually, to my enormous relief, my parents decided that I could stop taking lessons. I soon regretted the decision.
We weren’t talking about a keyboard
At lunch in a pub before a concert recently, a friend casually mentioned that he regularly practises his violin. He said he really enjoys it, and it make a good way to begin his evenings after work.
I remembered the unplayed, unloved and hidden keyboard.
At home after the concert, I dug it out, and with it the beginners’ music book I’d bought over twenty years earlier. The sounds mimic those of a piano, but with out the smoothness and depth.

There was no stand for the instrument. For a few weeks I used it on my desk. That involvdd unplugging my laptop and plugging in the keyboard every time I wanted to play. The keybord isn’t heavy; just awkward. And a nuisance.
The music book consists of American folk and war-time songs. Some I remembered without much joy from my childhood. As well as having words and tunes, it also has what I think are guitar chords.
Surprisingly, I could still read the music, a skill remembered from 75 or so years ago. After a bit of practise, it became much easier.
Exploring keyboard options
A trip to a music shop two blocks from home, and the keyboard now has its own stand. My antics in the shop seemed to amuse the sales staff, but they were helpful with my purchase. I’d imagined a stand would be heavy and bulky. But no!
It now sits in my tiny study. The keyboard no longer competes with the laptop for space or power. I planned to cover it with some half-imagined amazing fabric cover. But I quite like the look of the uncovered notes.
My next purchase will be a new book, one with music more to my taste. If I can work out what that is, and where to buy such a thing.
A friend, a singing teacher, has also offered me some sheet music. I can’t wait to pick it up.
Making music for fun
At first, I hoped I’d stick at making music as a way to increase my chances of avoiding or delaying dementia. I hoped it might also help my arthritic fingers to work more smoothly.
But I’m loving making music for its own sake, even though I’m learning American songs I don’t particularly like. I sit on my office chair with two cushions, turn on the keyboard, and immediately feel happy.
What I tell myself will be a few minutes’ practice often turns into an hour. I revise with the aim of playing each piece five times with no mistakes. That’s a trick I learned from one of my great-granddaughters. Then I play a few scales. Next, the newest piece I’m trying to understand.
I don’t need an audience, but I imagine if someone comes to visit and hears me I’ll feel quite proud.
My accidental conversation over lunch has turned into one very happy accident!
I wrote another blog about music at Music and falling in love again


How wonderful! Your delight and pleasure flows from the page!
Thank you, dear friend!
I’m still having difficulty getting notifications of your new posts, and the list of subscriptions on the Reader tells me you don’t exist!
Anyway, I’m pleased you are finding yet another interest. I cannot tell you how much I admire you. xx
OMG!! Have I known about your hidden keyboard! Give me a go next time I am in Subiaco! I also had music lessons whilst in primary school, taught by one of the nuns. The problem for me is that my lessons were during lunch time and whilst I was being regaled by the nun for all my mistakes, I was jealous of all the laughter I could hear from all the girls enjoying their lunch break. Thankfully for me, for some unknown reason the piano at home went missing. However like yourself, I can still read music, especially the right hand. Enough of that – am so happy for you dearest friend that you are getting pleasure – we shall sing a duet next time I am there for coffee. Bring it on.
Sorry, Elizabeth B. No duets! I don’t sing except in the shower since the nun told me I had a voice like an old crow and I could stand in the choir and mime the songs. I can however, whistle in tune which is good because babies love that. The other day I whistled to my great granddaughter, Helen, and she recognised the nursery rhyme. That was really wonderful. You are more than welcome to play my keyboard anytine you like. Looking forward to that!
I can feel your enthusiasm & am very impressed by your amount of progress.Music is coming your way, songs that you will soon be singing along to as well as playing.🥰
Yes, I am very keen to improve Maureen. Thank you for your assurance that I will be able, one day, to sing. I hope so.
Music playing or singing is so therapeutic especially on your own so glad you’ve found your long lost interest being revived.
Love your work & sharing of yourself😘