It was that Easter that Penny first stayed away from home with her great Aunt Bumble and Uncle Doddy in their tiny cottage in Cadgwith.

It was a beautiful Spring that year: all the warmth & freshness returning with the sun to open the budding primroses and to stir the bees to venture on their first forays.

The windows were opened to the sweet air blowing fresh & salty from the sea & this put the notion into Auntie Bumble's head that a jolly good spring clean was what was needed. Uncle Doddy was badgered out of his potting shed to fetch down trunks & boxes from cupboards and attics & there followed a general confusion & an emptying & repacking of the souvenirs of two lifetimes.

Of course it was all splendid fun for little Penny - a fascination, a revelation: here an old ballet skirt - could it really have once belonged to Auntie? And there - a little Turkish jacket Uncle had worn to his fifth Birthday Party!

And what was in this box?

Dodd roared with laughter, 'Why my old fiddledediddle! - And bless me all the strings still there!'

And he took it up, 'Why - not even much out of tune for all the years in the box'. He hummed, scratched a tune, fiddled with the pegs.

'Here Penn - have a go', he said, and wandered off.

She took it up and, amongst the old hats and crockery, she played with her new toy.

By lunchtime she had a tune - something simple it was - but the sound was sweet & melodious. Old Sampson the cat made himself at home by her side as she gently moved her fingers around the melodies of her childhood.

Bumble and Doddy stood outside, by the hollyhocks, listening entranced as the innocent sound played from the open window.

And that was how Penny began to play the fiddle.