Nothing registered. After an awkward silence with eyes cast down she explained that Richard had been with them for 6 months. He came with no background and they didn't have a clue who he was.

 As she scurried off after him she turned and apologised. She had to move quickly - she said she was fearful of how Richard might react when he got to his room and couldn't find the bag with his kau au au. The last thing she mentioned was that in the 6 months she'd been looking after him she'd never seen Richard with a leather satchel, nor had she  come across one when she'd tidied his room nor had she heard any mention of Taonga pūoro.I didn’t grasp how unusual that was and how hard it must have been for Richard until later - I had 40 x15 year old students and a bluetooth speaker to organise. 

By the time Richard returned the students had finished their bracket of contemporary Xmas carols and were mingling with the residents. One dear soul was confidently reciting a poem when Richard’s nurse walked in and explained the delay - Richard had gotten lost in the hallway and couldn't find his room.

That;s when Richard looked at me, nodded  with a twinkle in his eye and waved the small well worn brown leather satchel that he kept his kau au au in, It was a gesture that said “com on, let’s do this” a call to action as he stepped onto the  little stage with white mini grand. 

That's when I started to sweat. I'd heard Richard had struggled to connect with his instruments in his last performance a year back - that was a worry but what was really worrying me was I knew Richard was going to push my comfort zone. He was a prankster at heart and at times reminded me of Stu Buchanan (Bless you Stu) 

Thing is Richard knew I fear’d playing piano publically. He also knew I’d been whacked over the knuckles with a ruler for the 8 years of my classical piano lessons which I started when I was 8. We'd talked about it on the NZSO tour with Mish - Michelel Harrison, my Big Band Jazz buddy since 1982. Michelle had just turned 16 when I joined Stu’s infamous CSIM Big Band. And itr was 25 years later at 41 when Mish joined the Sal Dub band and SoundSystem on Alto in 2007-  the year we were planning a second attempt at an NZSO tour. Big thanks to Helen Carke and Dame Cath Tissard for their  ministry of art culture and heritage initiative that forced this country's most expensive covers band to engage with the colonials and tanga te whenua who claimed to be writers with an Aotearea voice. 

And it was  on that tour with Richard, Michelle, Whirmako, Dave, Mark & Pete I  had explained how Stu Buchanan was my saviour, It was Stu who knocked the classical stuffing out of me and that without Stu there would never have been Salmonella in the Dub. Stu had let me come into the CSIM thru the back door partly coz he’d heard I could sight read anything. But also coz his multi-cultural big band had become multicultural enuf. He  decided he needed a white kid with no feel on bass to change things up. I’m sure owning my own bass rig helped (NB - No silver spooned mouths involved - it took me 3 years of paper round money  to have enuf for me to barter with Charlie Jammett or that 100 watt Jansen bassman rig. *So It was at the art centre in Christchurch where I met Michelle back in 1982 - she'd just gone 16 and I was a nonchalant smelly 14 year old who had no feel for the CSIM bigband - But boy could I read. And boy did I suffer for it.

"DON't F*** Read it - Feel it!" was Stu’s mantra. Every Saturday Stu would stop the whole band so they could witness my humiliation - and the rant always continued with "the notes you play aren’t important, it’s the gaps between them. FEEL IT don;t F***ing Read it”

And change things up we did. A year later when I was 15 we toured up the country all 32 of us and we won that years Big Band Jazz award in the Tauranga race track stadium.

sorry I have digressed,

Richard looked me in the eye - nodded at the piano and said - sit in a b minor blues scale if you can - as he launched into heartfelt and confident tui impersonations that developed into a breathtakingly beautiful 4min journey thru the blues of our Aotearoa mountain lakes, caves & valleys - while I fumbled around pretending I was playing a bass line from Santana’s Abraxas - while twiddling around up 2 scales up in b minor.

Richard was at his best. I'm so humbled to have played with him one last time. Yes he was shaky - but that added to the pathos of the occasion and at the end of it all  Richard pulled off his bluff again - this time beautifully and in front of an audience - Bowing to the 40 clapping students - he humbly thanked them and apologised for not playing more - told them  he had a plane to catch for a radio NZ interview - stepped off the stage and strode straight out the front door .... with the nurse scampering quickly behind him.

Turns out Richard had hidden that satchel with his kau au au under his mattress. It had been there for 6 months and he never said a word. His love for his instruments calved by our extraordinary neighbour Brian Flintoff ran deep. Of course he knew where it was. He was keeping it in the safest place possible, under the mattress and close to his heart coz he would have known there’d be a day when he couldn’t find his room. And the really sad thing is he would not have wanted the staff to know who he was - it would have become a reminder of all the things he’d lost. My tears and gratitude go out to you Dr Richard Nunns - thankyou from the heart for all the memories and this for bringing Whiri and I back together with this soundscape we’ve called No Autopsy.