Memories of the Brunton Theatre and the devastating loss as it's set for demolition

Brunton Hall in East Lothian | Google Maps

“I hope all you youngsters know where middle C is on the piano without using the metal bit where the piano locks as guidance, as this piano doesn’t have one. We had a girl performing once who didn’t know where middle C on the piano was as her teacher’s piano had that small metal patch where the piano locks, and without it she was lost.”

The piano at the Brunton didn’t have that small metal lock bit, right where middle C was.

That’s probably my earliest memory of the theatre, that it’s piano was grand and impressive, and didn’t have anything as coarse as the metal latch bit. When the organiser told this story about the girl who didn’t know where middle C was, I panicked. Our piano had that small metal bit, and did I know where Middle C was without it?

My hands were slightly sweaty, clutching my Beginners Piano music book closely, waiting for my turn.

I actually don’t remember the performance itself, I assumed I stumbled through it with enough grace to not stand out as being rubbish, but also not standing out as a young prodigy.

What I do remember is sitting in the Brunton’s bright and clean café with my mum, and a friend, and her mum, and we were allowed Fanta as a treat after performing. The bottles were glass which I’m sure everyone can agree is the most exciting way to drink a juice.

I remember not feeling uncomfortable there. There were families, and old people (when you’re a child, everyone seems old) and it was informal and lively. The way a theatre should be. Not uptight and snobby, oozing with pretention. But open and jovial.

I knew that the Bruton was closed, but hearing it’s about to be demolished dented my heart in a way I wasn’t fully expecting. Those lush red carpets, and scrubbed wooden floors. It was shiny and dated at the same time, grand and slightly shabby.

I know that the Brunton Theatre has hosted some massive stars, and it’s cultural impact stretches much farther than my mediocre piano recital (and the ballet show I’m pretty sure my 5-year-old self performed in) but for me, it’s the community hub that I’ll miss the most. A place of high art, of movie nights, of kids dances and clubs, a place for everything and everyone.

I know it’s just a building, and it can’t hear, or feel, but if it could, or if the people who worked there read this; thank you for all of the light. I’ll miss it.