Diary Of A Busker Day 247 Saturday June 16th 2012 Winchester High Street 1. Opposite Vodafone, Time: 4:10-4:48pm, 2. Opposite O2, Time: 4:55-6:12pm
A day of constant drizzle which I’m able to take for almost forty minutes until the moisture makes it quite difficult to play. Just one small droplet on the fretboard, when it comes into contact with a finger will contaminate the whole of the fretboard, from the 1st fret to past the 12th, as that finger moves up and down it. Amazing. There’s no one else busking although there are plenty of people about. Most of the contributions are from small children and it’s good if there are more than one, as what one wants to do, so the other has to, although I suppose this is taken into account by the parents and the contributions watered down accordingly, so where there would have been one child with one pound, there are now two with 50p each.
There are seven minutes between the two sets, my second under a bit of cover. Two boys speed by on their BMXs – I think this is what they are called, with really low seats. The first boy throws a coin which, incredibly, lands in the bucket. The one behind him does the same but misses and lands ten feet to my right, which he sees but he’s not going to stop and come back, not to pick up a penny, which is what it is. A very shiny one, too. Maybe I’ll get it later. Omara, a young lady who walks by now and again, wants to buy me a pasty. She likes to buy gifts for her friends, she says. She can get one from the place right behind me – it’s PASTY FOR A POUND after about 5:20. So, what would I like…traditional? Vegetarian? Cheese and Onion? Traditional, in keeping with my character. She goes away and comes back – none left. What about cheese and onion? She goes away and comes back – none of them, either. Anything – vegetable? Bingo! They’ve got one of them. I don’t want to stop playing and eat the whole thing – it’ll look really bad. Rather, I’ll take a bite after every song, and so it goes; song/bite of pasty, song/bite of pasty… I get bored with this after three songs, along with the pasty getting colder, so after the fourth song I scoff the rest. At 5:50 the sun comes out but the drizzle’s been pretty relentless the whole time and I’m getting cold so I’m going home. I pack up and see the shiny penny, still ten feet to my right, unclaimed by any human, unsniffed by any dog. ‘Every penny counts,’ as Frank says. But I leave it. They can’t be bothered to put it in my bucket, I can’t be bothered to pick it up! I know I’ll regret it, though.
Earnings: £21.86 but it could have been £21.87
