Long before Madonna’s lucrative three-word “Like a Virgin” spin-offs, Albert Ketèlbey had his own attention-grabbing version: In a Chinese Temple Garden, In a Monastery Garden and, my favourite of all, In a Persian Market. On a cattle farm which bordered the wide Macleay River in NSW, aged seven or eight, I would be excitedly poised in the living room with several makeshift costumes at the ready to perform this masterpiece while my mother played the piano. A towel around my head for The Beggars in the Market Place, an unfortunate sheet for The Caliph Passes and – my pièce de résistance – a pink nylon “found it at Fossey’s” number, my best shot at The Princess Approaches. We would follow that up with a jaunty duet, the title of which would be banned today.

Rosemary Tuck

Rosemary Tuck. Photograph © Rory Seaman

I had as yet to have my first piano lesson, but this music would conjure up a whole new dimension with vivid images of exciting lands and people. It would speak immediately and directly to me, and in the process provide just about the happiest form of escapism; and...