Diary Of A Busker Day 64 Monday March 21st Winchester High Street (corner of Marks And Spencer. Time: 2:15-4:25pm.)
On Monday mornings I haul my sack of gold – the earnings from the previous week’s busking – to the bank on the high street and sometimes wander down the road to see if there’s anyone in any of the busking spots. Today, I met someone I didn’t know – Nathan, a five foot short 83 year old busker wearing a flat cap, just setting up his Hurdy Gurdy down at the noisy corner. I was attempting to engage him in a friendly conversation – “Do you come here often? etc…” but he seemed a bit wary of me untill I told him that I too am a busker. Perhaps he thought I was some posh Winchester person as I was wearing my Burberry trenchcoat, second hand at least – it’s more than thirty years old, I’m sure! But after that – when I said “busker”, Nathan relaxed a bit – “I remember when Gypsies (he’s one, he says)…and buskers were looked down on and sometimes even spat on. Now, everyone wants to be a busker.” Well, I wouldn’t go that far, Nathan. He also tells me he’s just written a book, called From Rags To Riches By A Rascal, or “Rawcal” as Nathan’s “S”s don’t come out well. Nathan’s definately a rascal – he’s got a low growl of a voice every rascal should have. He relates some events of his eventful life, such as being given the Freedom of the city of London and raising £230,00.00 for a Great Ormond Street charity. That’s a lot of money for a busker to raise, so I repeated the amount, slowly enunciating the words so to be quite sure he heard. But it must be true – twice he confirmed the amount. He is going to do four hours here and asks me how much I make in an hour. I tell him if I can get £10, I’m content. He says he’ll finish at 2:30 – Chinese dentist, so I’m going to come back just after two and hear his reconditioned 1922 Hurdy Gurdy device for a bit, then take over the spot after he leaves…
Later…it’s ten minutes past two and I have arrived at the corner of Marks And Spencer and Nathan is nowhere to be seen. Oh well, I set up and start my session. About fifteen minutes in, Nathan appears from around the corner. Apparently he packed up early as he made only £11 for playing – or to be more precise, turning a crank – over three hours. “I need more old people – who know what I’m playing. These songs – all these young kids don’t know ’em.” A fair point. I told him that most of my ‘customers’ are the over 60s. In fact, I reckon at least 80% of my money is from them. I felt sorry for Nathan and was glad I bunged him a £2 coin earlier – I wonder if the £11 included that! Oh dear – eleven pounds in just under four hours – that’s bad and I know how he feels.
Later on, halfway through my spot – I’m playing Ol’ Man River and a busker I had past on the way down walks by and stops a few yards away. He turns around and comes to me – “You’re quite good, are you a professional musician?” “Thanks, well I used to …” I give him my hard luck story. His name is Colin and he has a couple of tips to give me, if I don’t mind. “First, you need to get a music stand.” He points to my blue plastic binder on the pavement. I keep this on the ground as it is in a direct line of vision just beyond my fretboard. I only need it for a couple of tunes I haven’t got memorised yet, but I really need it to be there. Actually, Colin has a music stand. He also has several other musicians playing with him – they’re very good – I’ve never heard them make a mistake. This is possibly because they are backing tracks. So the music stand can’t be for them – it must be for Colin, who plays single note lines on his saxophone. His second tip was “Don’t play more than two or three days a week – you’ll get more money if you play less.” Colin is wrong. I’ve played 2 days a week, 3 days a week, 4, 5, 6 days a week and I’ve even played Eight Days A Week. And the money’s always the same. Colin says he brings in maybe £30 an hour. I don’t believe him. But thanks for the tips anyway, Colin – and good luck to you!
Earnings: £18.16p