One of the greatest bonds Dad and I had was through our love of, and joy in, music.  In particular, the delight I found in accompanying his singing, for here he expressed his heart and soul more than any other place.  I started out as page turner for Dad’s previous accompanists, most notably Wilf Clark and Jimmy Lintel.  Dad’s repertoire with Wilf included the Messiah tenor solos – Ev’ry Valley in particular, and, what felt like an annual event, preparing the solos for Stainer’s Crucifixion.  They also shared some ballads, including Love could I only tell thee, a particular favourite of Wilf & his wife, Irene’s.  The repertoire with Jimmy was more of these ballads, including The Holy City, Nirvana and A Brown Bird Singing.
As my confidence on the piano grew during my teens, Dad would often encourage me to play things through for him, including the tenor material from Haydn’s Creation, Annie’s Song, and of course Dad’s classic stage number, If I ruled the world.  With Jimmy stepping back from playing and Wilf moving to Sheffield, I became Dad’s principal accompanist.  It was a time that we were closer than any other. 
Dad taught me so much about how to accompany a singer.  His expressive style, from the soul, taught me how to respond with wide dynamics and flexible tempo.  Dad’s counting was never perfect and I learnt most likely where I needed to jump to keep up.  Even now when I play those numbers, I still prepare to go, even if the singer I’m working with never does the same change.  Whilst accompanying the many student singers I’ve played for, this skill has been invaluable.  Many times he would hand me scores that were beyond my teenage ability; I learnt how to make them work with what notes I could reach.  Again, a skill that has meant my playing is instantly more flexible that it would have been.
Occasionally we did test the patience of our neighbours.  One sunny summer afternoon, we had started off with If I ruled the World.  Mum came in laughing her head off.  We asked why – she’d been out in the garden, and as we started, she had watched all our neighbours close their sliding doors and French windows…..  Most of the time, though, it was a joy to all, and several neighbours commented they used to turn their tellies off to listen.
During the early part of his retirement, I had the pleasure of Dad singing in a choir I was directing.  His rich, full tenor was very distinctive and immediately pepped the whole choir to greater tone and confidence.  It was a unique and wonderful sound, which, as soloist and choral singer, is not easily forgotten.  As Mum grew weaker, Dad left all his singing behind, and in Mum’s final years his only singing outlet was when I sat at the piano and he joined in.  Dad and I would treat her to a few ballads, including her favourite, Smiling Through.  After Mum died, he rarely sang, although I would sit at the piano and play.  The last time I got to visit him, in October, I played for him for some time, and although he didn’t sing a note, he was miming every single word, and was enjoying it. 
Dad’s left me with many happy memories, pieces that will always be his.  His own rendition at the piano of Claire de Lune, something he often played, was a soundtrack to our daily lives growing up.  The Tenor aria Sanctus, Fortis from Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius was one we worked on over several years.  I’m still looking for an original copy of Nirvana in the high key; Dad had an authorised photocopy of it.  When I am in the mood, I’ll search through tatty bits of music in antique shops, just in case it’s in there………..