By MICHAEL MORPURGO, Illustrator IAN ANDREW
Whenever he could, whenever he was home, my father would come up to my room to hear me play. He'd sit back in my chair, put his hands behind his head and close his eyes. When I played well -- and I usually did when
he was there -- he would give me a huge bear hug afterwards, and say something like, 'Eat your heart out, Yehudi.' But just recently, ever since we moved house, my father hadn't been able to hear me that much. His new job at the radio station kept him busier than ever --he had two shows a day and some at weekends too. I'd listen in from time to time just to hear his voice, but it was never the same. he was never my father on the radio.I was ambivalent about my violin too. The truth was that I loved it with a passion. I loved the secrecy of its hidden life shut away in its green baize case, the soft snuggle of the pad under my chin, the smoothness of the horsehair when I drew my bow across the inside of my wrist to test its tautness.
Publisher: Mammoth
Price: $14.95
Age group: 10 plus years
