Diary Of A Busker Day 495

Diary Of A Busker Day 495 Friday January 17th 2014 Winchester (1. Opposite Vodafone, Time: 1:40-1:58pm, 2. Opposite Bellis, Time: 2:03-3:05pm).

The order of the day – and of the last few – is: a lot of rain, coming down suddenly and often quite ferociously, then stopping suddenly, then a dry bit for a few minutes, then rain again, and on it goes. So, I manage almost twenty minutes – a long stretch – before it all comes down, during Wouldn’t It Be Nice, and it WOULD be if it stopped raining long enough so I could get through a set. But it’s cold: twenty minutes – long enough!

I pack up and head up to the covered bit. I think I’m the only one out, so I can pick and chose. Halfway through the opener, Albatross, a young black guy leaning on the other side of the column on my left, leans over and says ‘Can you hear me?’ I say ‘Yeah’ – he’s a couple of inches from my ear! And he starts ‘singing’, or rather humming in that jerky, weird way young people ‘sing’ these days. (I don’t care if I sound old, it’s bloody silly the way they do it!) He carries on till the end of the song – Song Of The Day, and that’s nothing to do with him: he’s so quiet, no one else can hear him – it’s because it gets three donations and the same number of people have come up and said ‘What’s the name of that?’

At the end, this guy says ‘I could sing with you all day’. I say ‘Really?’, then start into Here Comes The Sun, at which point he starts talking on his phone, holding it out to my head, so the person at the other end can hear me. Near the AMP, not my HEAD! At the end, he says ‘All I want to do is sing and dance, what’s your name?’ ‘Marvin’. ‘Marvin? I’m Mike’. ‘Hello Mike’. ‘Yeah, I was in a Michael Jackson play in the West End…well, my girlfriend’s just split up with me, on the phone. But she heard you, says I should stick with you…do you have an email address?’ ‘Yeah’. ‘I think we should get together – hook up’. ‘Right’, I say, and I’m then saved by his phone ringing. As he takes the call, I quickly get a card out, hand it to him then go into another song. How bizarre – I wonder if he’ll contact me? I rather hope he doesn’t*. I did feel sorry for him about his girlfriend, though.

During Jesu – the second last song, before The Rain Song, which is only appropriate – I become aware of a stationary figure to my right, and I know it’s Ian, I just know it! He draws his finger across his top lip – he’s noticed the moustache. I say ‘Ah, you noticed, Ian…it keeps me warm…and what do you think? – I’m getting a general consensus from people’. He says ‘Well, do you want my honest opinion?’ ‘Yes please’. ‘Well, I think you look better without it…marginally’. ‘Right, OK’. ‘But I think if I’d met you first with it, it might be different. It’d be your signature’. ‘Ah, yes’, I say. ‘But don’t let me influence you unduly. As long as you keep playing the guitar!’ (What a lovely bloke) ‘No, not at all, Ian. The guitar’s the most important thing, isn’t it’.

Down the road, there’s that Big Issue mate of Simon’s – Dibbs or Dibsy, I think he calls him. I haven’t seen Simon since that day about three weeks ago when he was limping and not looking well at all. I think I might ask this Dibbs or Dibsy if he knows how he is, if I still don’t see him. But I don’t want to speak to him – maybe I’ve got a feeling of some bad news.

Earnings: £16.54p

  • He never did.

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