In my daily work I am in and out of other people's houses.
This gives me an opportunity to make a mental note of fads and fashions, what new things are trending or what old things are making a comeback. In this way I have seen an increase in the number of huge televisions, bi-fold doors and home cinemas and a noticeable decline in yorkstone wall features, serving hatches, magnolia colour paint and most disturbingly, in pianos.
When I say decline, where pianos are concerned it is more like a complete disappearance.
Piano's have played a special part in my upbringing and I have a soft spot for them.
There was always a Piano in my childhood home and even today my Mother still has that particular one in pride of place in a living room and it is regularly used for her own and the wider family entertainment. There is always a good chance of a sing-song, often a bit raucous and of dubious tunefulness at main gatherings of Christmas and Easter. In reality, we do not need a festival to prompt such an outpouring of emotion and togetherness, it just happens if we feel like it.
That piano was a major item in the room.
If not being played by Mother, my sisters, brothers or those coming to the house for music lessons (I am sorry to admit that me and it were in no way compatible), the large upright instrument doubled up as a useful piece of furniture from bookshelf on the top to dining table on the hinged lid, this being useful for young children to eat their tea off whilst watching after school TV programmes such as Jackanory, Blue Peter, Belle and Sebastien, Hectors House and Roobarb and Custard.
For all of my complete lack of piano playing aptitude I could hammer out the National Anthem, What shall we do with a Drunken Sailor? and other opening bars of popular tunes and themes.
There was quite a drama when a mouse was discovered living amongst the pedals and wires prior to meeting its fate under the powerful spring catch of a cheese baited trap just under the Middle C key. This was nearly as traumatic a situation as when the family hamster disappeared for some time into the same catacomb of wood, wires and metal before emerging unscathed although probably a bit deaf from the experience. Lessons and entertainment just could not be suspended just for an errant rodent could they?
My own children were given a piano by their grandparents, a nice old classic sit up and beg version purchased from a second hand or more source. It went well with our 1920's built house of the time, quite aptly given that the inter period was the halcyon for piano's in private homes. This golden age persisted well into the 1950's and statistically in that decade there was higher ownership of pianos than private cars.
An abundance of British manufacturers with suitably evocative names reminiscent of great days of Empire and conquest turned out quality pieces. There was a cost to ownership in regular tuning and I remember the succession of rather eccentric piano-tuners who could pick up the faults by ear and tweak something out of our inquisitive sight in the heart of the wooden frame to restore, once again, a wonderful tone and pitch.
Gradually from the 1960's the leisure time for families became crowded with new activities and technology giving more excitement and variation with the piano falling out of favour. The wider availability of electronic organs and keyboards, more compact and even portable fitted in better with the idea of a more modern house interior and decor also contributed.
New build houses were just too small to accommodate a bulky piano and even remodelled older houses with the fashion for a through lounge could not make use of them. Cheap imported pianos began to arrive from the Far East which put a lot of the domestic manufacturers out of business.
Second hand stock could be problematic if infested with woodworm, likely to fall on a small child or be constantly in need of tuning.
This brings me to the present day and the rarity of seeing a piano in a private house.
Recently, in a sort of sixth sense situation I was mystified by a wooden floor in a modern detached residence which had a very pronounced dip and sag under the carpet. There was no flex or spring, in fact the floor was as tight as a drum but with a strange bowl type depression.
I paced up and down for a while and even lay down on my stomach to get a look at the distortion. I felt from this prostrate position like I was peering over the lip of a crater made by a meteorite.
The only thing that could have caused the floorboards and supporting joists to assume such a profile would be a constant and dead weight. The home owner by now was concerned by my mutterings , wanderings and apparent fallings over and came to see if I needed any help.
I asked if there had ever been a piano in the room. They expressed surprise at how I could have known that as, yes, that room had in fact been more or less dedicated when the house was originally built to take a Baby Grand, about a couple of tons of master craftmanship.
That was more than thirty years ago giving the floor a good, long period to naturally succumb to the loading of such a prestigious instrument. That bit of deduction on my part was the highlight of the particular year.
I am unlikely to have that opportunity again just being confined to a query "where have all the pianos gone?"
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