How the recorder led to a criminal record

SIR – In 1951 I was permanently banned from the recorder group of Two Mile Hill Infant School in Bristol.

I had whacked fellow infant musician John Boucher so hard over the head with a wooden recorder (Letters, December 4) that it split. The instrument, not the head.

This experience has dissuaded me ever since from trying to learn to play an instrument. John, however, went on to glory in the junior school recorder band.

Dr Jennifer Longhurst

Surbiton, Surrey

SIR – If Ken Atkinson (Letters, December 2) had heard the recorder played as it should be, in a modern performance by adult musicians well versed in its historical repertoire, his view of it might be more favourable.

In its baroque heyday it was certainly not regarded as a child’s instrument; it was called “the amorous flute” for its sensuous tone, and was often used to accompany erotic scenes or love songs in operas, for example those of Lully and Purcell. Mr Atkinson should give them a try.

Richard Gamman

Brighton, East Sussex

SIR – Living in Doha, in the Middle East, when entertainment depended on initiative not technology, a number of us ( just one with a musical background) taught ourselves to play the recorder.

We acquired the five different sizes – the shrill sopranino, familiar soprano, the alto, tenor and bass – forming a recorder consort. Those going on leave brought sheet music back with them.

The sheer joy of being a part of Bach’s harmonies, I shall never forget.

Later, our family learnt to play as a mini-consort of sopranino, soprano, and alto – simple music, much enjoyed. LF Buckland

Iwerne Minster, Dorset