Diary Of A Busker Day 2318 Sunday March 3rd 2024 The Square, Winchester.
The usual suspects are about; Rob at the top spot and Meeta down at the crossroads, so it’s The Square, where I haven’t been for some time. A cold day but no chance of rain, which is saying something. I need to sort this fucking useless card reader out, thought, as it hasn’t worked at this spot for ages. I lost one sale quite early on, then another, but that one wasn’t wholly my fault, as the woman’s phone lost it’s power as she was trying to get to my Paypal page.
I had a bit more luck a bit later when a woman said I could log into her phone “Mutisha’s (or Matisha) phone”, and she was able to donate £2, but that took a few minutes to sort out. Anyway, she said I should try logging into Three Joes’s, so I’ll have to go in their and try and sort that out. I mean, I know Maria so she should be able to help me.
A boy about 10 with a flat cap likes listening to me. His dad gave him a coin to donate. He seemed like a nice lad so I didn’t mind having a chat.
‘So, you like the guitar music?’
‘Yeah, I have a guitar.’
‘Really, what have you got?’
‘I’ve got an Epiphone Les Paul.’
‘Oh really? Very good. Epiphone are a good make. I used to play an Epiphone Casino out here. So what sort of stuff do you play?’
‘Jazz.’
‘Jazz? Right, so you know a lot of minor sevenths then, eh?’
”Umm…what?’
‘Minor sevenths…(I play a few, trying to fake jazz)’
‘Well, mainly open chords. It’s top range.’
‘Top range? You mean you play high up the neck?’
‘Umm…no, in price, it’s expensive – higher end.’
‘Oh right! The guitar, it’s expensive!’
‘Yeah.’
‘Right, well you’re very lucky!’
SOTD (Song Of The Day) was Anjie. A bunch of young oriental blokes stopped as I started it, and after a bit, one put in a fiver but at the end he replaced the fiver with a tenner and picked up a CD. That’s a £9 profit, which is nothing to be sneezed at. He’d heard it before but didn’t know what it was so I filled him in; written by Davey Graham but made famous by Bert Jansch – ‘that’s J-A-N-S-C-H’…on his solo album from 1965…Paul Simon did a version…spelled with a “J” originally, but sometimes with a “G”.
A two hour stint earned £51, which is something else not to be sneezed at but I had to definitely pack up as I was dying for a piss by then, so I bombed down to the crossroads where I knew Meeta would keep an eye on the bike. In fact, when I got there, Gareth had just got there and had asked her to keep an eye on HIS stuff while he nipped into the Pret place for a piss!
Meeta had an old lady in a wheelchair next to her and they were singing something – I can’t remember what. Anyway, I told Gareth to go to the toilet first as he got there before me. He said ‘OK then, anyway, it’s my birthday!’ ‘Well, happy birthday…28 again?’
‘Fifty-six.’
‘Youngster, Gareth.’ Anyway, I let Gareth go into Pret first while I tried to park my bike but it was so crowded I couldn’t lean it anywhere but luckily there was a bloke waiting outside Starbucks for his wife and he volunteered to hold onto it for me, while I followed Gareth to the pissoir.
Back outside, after great relief, Meeta, who is obviously a party animal, said ‘Come on, lets sing Happy Birthday to Gareth!’ so there we were, me, Meeta, the old lady and Gareth, singing Happy Birthday, Gareth singing to himself.