In the early 1970s, I used to live and work at the Piano Museum in west London, housed in an old and still consecrated church. I would often work late into the night, till 2 or 3 am, perhaps underneath a grand player piano, retubing or adjusting it in some way. I used a small inspection light, which illuminated as much as I needed, and the rest of the church was dark, because we tried to save money when the public was not around.
Since the church had not been deconsecrated, whenever I lay under the piano, I knew that someone else was lying six feet under me. And of course, the player pianos by definition played themselves. I slept in the old organ loft, and I had to feel my way up there. Frightened yet?
What was more dangerous was that, two floors down from where I slept, we had a drip-feed oil heater, which ran on old sump oil that was donated to the museum by wellwishers. Up where the altar had been, there was a large collection of very old films, on the sort of nitrate material that spontaneously combusts if you sneeze too hard.
About twenty feet outside the exterior wall of the organ loft was the largest gasholder in west London. And of course, all around me was a collection of about 20,000 paper music rolls. It's a wonder I lived to tell the tale...
Topic: Ever scared yourself away from the piano?