The other day I was listening to a pianist playing the fearsome second movement of the César Franch Sonata for violin and piano. The piano part is highly virtuosic and, apart from anything else, a very good proof of the fact that these big piano parts are not ‘accompaniments’ as some persist in calling them.

Often when one hears this movement in performance, the excitement of the music and the technical difficulty of playing it combine to make it an overwrought experience for all concerned.

I was following the score from one of several copies I have on my shelves. This particular copy was actually the version for cello and piano, identical as regards the piano part. I probably haven’t looked at this volume for thirty years or more.

At the head of the second movement I found I had written, ‘Search for a way to make it natural, not hysterical.’ I read this out to the assembled company. Knowing the music, they were very struck by the wisdom and pithiness of this advice. The wording (‘Search for …’) alerted me to the fact that it probably wasn’t my own idea. I probably copied it down during someone’s cello lesson when I was playing the piano, listening to what was said and noting down observations that seemed important.

Thinking back to when this could have been, I realised it was probably at Prussia Cove, in the 1980s, when Johannes Goritzki (1942-2018) was teaching the cello masterclasses. Dear Johannes Goritzki, so ebullient, so imaginative, so handsome and funny, so great at showing how to make things feel easier on the cello. And so good at putting things into words, even in his second language. We, the students, just thought he was the coolest person.

I still remember how once, when he wanted me to make a magnificent crescendo, he walked over to the grand piano while I was playing and slowly, theatrically, opened the lid to its full extent. The gesture was inspiring and I found myself making a crescendo to match.