Diary Of A Busker Day 58 Thursday March 10th Winchester High Street (1. corner of Marks And Spencer, Time: 12:23-1:50pm, 3-4:45pm, 2. opposite Clinton Cards, Time: 2:10-2:50pm.)
At the noisy corner again, with the whistling flowerman just across the way. As I start to play, he motions for me to turn up – I don’t often get this from people! He comes over – “You gonna play Ennio Morricone? That’s great! People were smiling when you did that the other day.” I say I will, but does he really want me to turn up? – I’m shy. “Yeah, if I can hear my whistling louder than you, you’re too quiet – crank it up!” I turn up a bit. He goes back to his stall but comes back a minute later – “Turn it up! Hey, do you know Here Comes The Sun by George Harrison – people’ll like that one on a day like this.” – it’s half sunny, half not. “Hmm, I don’t know a solo instrumental version of it, although I used to play it in groups, you know, in a full band – I used to sing it! “Oh, don’t do that!” he interrupts. “No, I wouldn’t dare! Um, I’ll see what I can do.” So, capo in the correct 7th fret position, I play through a couple of verses, the instrumental break and the end bit. It’s got a good guitar bit that everyone knows so it’s sounds OK with just the one guitar. I could reel it off some other time while thinking of the next song to play. And someone gave me a pound so it’s in! The flower seller likes alot of what I play and he’s a friendly enough but I don’t want to become tiresome so I decide to go somewhere else after my toilet/warm hands under the drier break. I move up the road, but I collect not even a pound in half an hour. I skulk back to the noisy corner. The flower seller is gone, replaced by a younger guy. “THREE FOR A PAND, THREE FOR A PAAND!…” he shouts ad infinitum. Never anything else, it seems!
A man watches me for awhile from across the pavement, then comes over. He likes what I play, “You know, all these people walking by – they don’t realise the hours and days (and years – I already know what he’s going to say)…and how you have to concentrate on playing this sort of music…I had a friend, in a band – we were both in it, he used to practise for hours every day, but he gave up, you know, with the fingers – he couldn’t do it…” I agree, it takes a long time to learn some techniques like the fingerstyle and classical way of playing. It’s a lifelong vocation – and even that’s not long enough, I say. I tell him about my Focal Dystonia – how I paid the price for my persistence and obsession. I’m blaming Chet Atkins. Actually, I found out recently that Merle Travis only used two fingers of his right hand so this gives me hope. Back to this other guy – he has an accent which I embarrasingly mistake as French – so I offer to play La Vie En Rose – he’s Israeli! Later on another man, one of my ‘regulars’ appears – “Do you know any Greek songs?” – see the world go by at the corner of Marks And Spencer! “Greek you say? No, I don’t. Why Greek?” “I’m half Greek, half Scottish. My name’s Nicholas. My father was Greek and my mother was Scottish. I asked my mother what that makes me. She said ‘a mess only the gods can sort out’!” Then my man with the banjo turns up – will I be here tomorrow to tune it up for him? Maybe, if it’s not raining. A lady passing by during Yellow Bird – “Is that Yellow Bird? – ‘high up in banana tree.’ My mother used to sing that to me when I was a child.” Instant coinage!
Earnings: £42.57p
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