As the opening notes of All The Nice Girls Love A Sailor are played on a keyboard, a couple of voices can be heard softly singing the familiar song, then a few more join in.

Soon there is a group sing-along, prompting one lady’s childhood memories of a sailor dress. “My mother made it, I remember standing still while she pinned the hem. I was the youngest of 12 children,” she says.

Her memory sparks a discussion about childhood games. “We used to make bubbles with soap and water – streams of bubbles all over the kitchen,” says another lady, before she hums I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles.

Music therapist George Murray picks up a trombone and plays the song, leading to another communal sing-along. Someone reaches for a castanet and shakes it, laughing.

There is a lot of joy in this room. Invited to attend a session of the MemoryWise music club, I’ve joined the group sitting in a circle at Shipley’s Kirkgate Centre. In front of us, on a table, is an assortment of musical instruments – various drums, a ukelele, bells, tambourines and maracas – and George sits at his keyboard, gently playing a stream of music.

Five minutes in, there are smiles breaking out on people’s faces as they start to sing, tap their feet and reach for memories ignited by the music. Their happiness is infectious.

The MemoryWise club was set up for people with dementia a year ago, and last November it received funding from the Shipley Area Committee Community Chest, via the Shipley Community Chest fund, for a ten-session music therapy course.

The music group meets fortnightly and, half-way through, the sessions are going well. Dr Elizabeth Milwain, who runs MemoryWise, hopes to secure funding for the club to continue after Easter.

“Dementia can be distressing and challenging, but with support a good quality of life can be maintained,” says Elizabeth, a psychologist and adviser on dementia issues. “With a dementia diagnosis, what often causes most distress is social isolation. Reminiscence groups bring people together, and allow their voices to be heard. Everyday life happens so fast, often they don’t get chance to be heard.

“Music is very powerful in evoking memories, it’s a stepping stone to reminiscence and conversation. To have a musician here who can pick up a tune and get people singing along and sharing memories has been hugely beneficial. Without the funding we wouldn’t have that – we’d just have a CD player. A live musician gets the rhythm going and brings it alive. The ethos is on fun and friendship.”

The group also provides respite for carers. The morning starts with coffee then, during the music session, carers have time together.

“The support they give each other is invaluable,” says Elizabeth. “Being a carer can be very lonely. It helps to meet others with similar experiences. Great friendships have been built here.

“We have enough funding to last until Easter and I’m seeking funding so the group can continue. It’s important that the group maintains momentum. People have said they’d be devastated if it finished.”

As we take our seats George starts to sing The Happy Wanderer and a couple of people shake tambourines. Some people are nodding gently, others join in with the singing. Everyone has a smile or a look of contentment on their face.

George plays a tune on the trombone which a lady called Vera recalls from childhood. “My father used to sing it,” she says. Someone else recalls Irish songs, leading George to play If You’re Irish, Come Into The Parlour on the keyboard. It prompts a lively sing-along, then comes Danny Boy, which the group sings softly. A couple of Scottish songs inspire one lady to chat about a recent break in the Highlands – leading to a discussion about childhood holidays in Morecambe and Blackpool. George plays Oh I Do Like To Be Beside The Seaside.

George plays O Sole Mio – the Cornetto advert music – on the trombone. “He’s playing ice-cream,” says a lady called Barbara.

People talk about making their own entertainment as children. George plays I’ve Got Sixpence and asks if people remember what they could buy for a little money. “Fish and chips” and “liquorice and kayli” are among the replies.

“It costs nowt to sing,” says Tony, sitting next to me. “I was born during the war and we created music in the home, to entertain each other.”

George starts to play It’s a Long Way to Tipperary, followed by Pack Up Your Troubles In Your Old Kit Bag, leading to an upbeat sing-along with tambourines.

The songs lead Tony to talk about a TV programme he watched on the First World War. “Men were singing, going to war, and you wondered how many of them came back,” he said.

Turning to me, he says softly: “I won’t remember any of this tomorrow. I’ve got no short-term memory, but I can remember what I did as a boy. I was always very outgoing, my father had a butcher’s shop and I used to help him out, so I had to be outgoing.”

I ask if music triggers memories. “Oh yes,” he smiles. “George makes this fun. This group makes a lot of difference to a lot of people.”

A couple of people are talking about 1950s show the Six-Five Special, trying to remember if it was on the radio or television. “What can you do?” sighs one lady. “With the drunken sailor!” replies another, breaking into laughter.

George launches into The Drunken Sailor and everyone sings along, clapping and shaking tambourines. My Bonnie Lies Over The Ocean is sung with arm movements.

As well as discussions, the songs spark expression through music. Someone runs a stick along the back of a hollow wooden frog, creating an African tribal-type sound. George passes round a tongue drum – a wooden box-like percussion instrument – and, as two ladies tap on it, Tony responds with banging on a drum while another man, Terry, shakes a tambourine. Tony talks about watching marching bands in Thornton as a boy.

Terry is chatting about school, and suddenly recites some Latin. “You don’t forget your Latin,” he smiles.

As the group sings along to You Are My Sunshine, I’m struck by how uplifting this is, and how much laughter there is.

George works mainly with dementia patients, and in palliative care. He strikes a balance between playing music and allowing time for discussion.

“It’s about sewing conversations to the songs, and fishing for memories,” he says. “Music travels along different parts to many parts of the brain. As well reminiscence, there’s the physical act of singing and the tactile aspect of using instruments.”

“If someone is a bit quiet, I try to involve them. Suggestions for songs will often come from the group. One chap used to be very quiet but he’s come out of his shell.”

Elizabeth adds: “Everyone enjoys music, it’s a unifying thing. When people sing together they support each other. That need to care doesn’t go away just because you’re the one who now requires care.”

For more about musical opportunities for people with dementia call Dr Elizabeth Milwain on (01274) 583364, George Murray on (01274) 597653 or Bradford Alzheimer’s Society on (01274) 586008.