Describe a concert or live performance you attended

I'm going to talk about a piano concert which I attended in Warsaw last summer. Actually it was a free concert of Chopin music, they organise it every Sunday in summer in Łazienki Park, next to the big statue of Chopin. The pianist plays on a small stage and people sit on benches or on the grass around it.

It took place in June, on Sunday afternoon at four o'clock. The park is very beautiful in that season, there are many roses near the stage and a pond with ducks.

I went with my grandmother. She is a big fan of Chopin since she was young, and she knows every piece by heart. To be honest I only went because she asked me, I thought it will be boring.

But my feelings changed during the concert. In the middle it started to rain, and I wanted to leave, but nobody moved. The pianist continued playing under the roof of the stage, and my grandmother opened her umbrella and hold it over both of us. She was humming quietly with the music and she had tears in the eyes. Then he played a nocturne, a slow and sad piece, and I felt very emotional too. I realised that this music is a big part of our history. Since then I go there with her every summer, and I enjoy it more than I expect.

The performance I'd like to talk about was an open-air piano recital in Łazienki Park in Warsaw. Every Sunday in summer a pianist plays Chopin beside the big bronze monument of him, completely free, and people bring picnic blankets and sit around the rose beds to listen.

I went on a Sunday in June, to the four o'clock concert. It was one of those heavy, humid afternoons when you can tell a storm is on the way, which turned out to matter.

I went with my grandmother, who's adored Chopin since she was a teenager and can hum practically every piece he wrote. To be honest, I only agreed to go for keeping her company. I'd assumed it would be a bit like sitting through a music lesson.

How I felt about it changed completely in the space of an hour. About halfway through, it started pouring, and I was ready to run for the tram, but not a single person got up. The pianist just carried on under the little canopy, my grandmother held her umbrella over both of us, and the rain on the leaves somehow became part of the music. When he got to one of the slow nocturnes, I noticed she was crying, quietly, and I found that I had a lump in my throat as well. I think it was the first time I understood why Chopin means so much to people of her generation. Now I go with her every summer, and I'm the one who reminds her.

I'd like to describe a Chopin recital I went to in Łazienki Park in Warsaw. Throughout the summer, every Sunday, a pianist performs on a small stage beneath the huge bronze statue of Chopin sitting under a windswept willow, and anyone can wander in. There are no tickets and no dress code; people just spread out on the grass among the roses.

It was the four o'clock performance on a sticky Sunday in June, the kind of afternoon that feels as though the sky is holding its breath.

I went with my grandmother. She's been devoted to Chopin since she was at school, and she can tell you which piece is playing within about three notes. I'll admit I went mainly out of duty; I was expecting an hour of polite clapping and checking my watch.

What I felt, in the end, was something I hadn't bargained for. Twenty minutes in, the heavens opened. I half rose to leave, but the audience simply stayed put, umbrellas went up like a field of mushrooms, and the pianist didn't miss a beat. My grandmother tilted her umbrella over me and started humming under her breath, and during one of the nocturnes I glanced across and saw her cheeks were wet, and not only from the rain. Something about that moment, the downpour, the music and her face, made me understand that for her generation Chopin isn't background music; he's bound up with their whole sense of who they are. I came away strangely moved, and I've gone back with her every summer since, usually without being asked.