Diary Of A Busker ~ Day 76

Diary Of A Busker Day 76 Thursday April 7th Winchester High Street (1. corner of Marks And Spencer, Time: 11:40-2:03pm, 2. opposite WH Smiths, Time: 2:58-3:50pm.)

The warmest day yet and so I change my attire accordingly – instead of my black corduroy coat, I display a black suit jacket with velvet lapels. In fact it’s too warm even for that, but as I say to Bertie the flowerman before I start – “I shall not shed it”, having never played without a jacket of some sort, ever.  Alfie the a keyboard busker stops for a chat. He tells me he has a friend who been playing the Wurlitzer at a fair in Fakenham. At least I think this is what he is saying – it’s so difficult to make out because of his speech impediment – and that If I’m ever up that way, I should go and visit him – he’s been doing it for thirty-one years – a long fair. Alfie’s a friendly fellow, I’ve got a lot of time for him. I just wish I could understand what he says.

A bit later, a man – one of my regulars, comes by. I haven’t seen him for a while – he’s become irregular.  “How are you doing?” he says. “Fine, it’s warmer so I can play a bit better.” “I met someone who knows you, the other day.” “Who’s that?” “Steve, I think he said. ” “Hm…and he knows me?” “Yeah, he’s pretty full of himself…” “Oh, wait a minute” I interupt – I know exactly who this is, “…did he say he was one of the top eight guitarists in the country?” “Yeah! he did, actually! He was going on and on, how good he was – in the Eclipse, at the bar. And it’s one thing I can’t stand – someone going on about how good they are, you know, and he was giving me all this and I said “prove it – show me, you’re talkin’ the talk, c’mon – show me!” and he wouldn’t.” “I know”, I said, “He doesn’t have any cds and I asked him if he was going to record any and I got the impression he thought his music was too good for us all!”  “Yeah, well I told him about you, that I knew you and he said he knew you and he thought you were good but not as good as him!” “I said to him again – prove it! He started going on about his guitars and kept saying it – how great he was. In the end I had enough, I told him he could take his guitar and shove it up his ass!” I started laughing – “Did you really say that?” “Yeah, I can’t stand people like that, boasting – prove it or shut up, I say. I couldn’t stand him, I went outside and sat at a table and he came out a bit later and asked me if there was anyone sitting in the chair beside me. There wasn’t, but I told him there was and he asked me again and I said there was and he said he couldn’t see anyone and I said “there IS someone sitting there, it’s just that YOU can’t see them!”

…another regular – Marcus, drops by and we have a discussion about where they sell the cheapest batteries for my amplifier. I can get Duracell Plus quite cheap at supermarkets and petrol stations, I say. Marcus says they’re cheaper at the pound shop around the corner – a pound, no more no less. Duracell Plus? Apparently. He goes away and comes back ten minutes later – and he’s bought me some batteries – six of them, the right amount and the right make. Duracell…but no’plus’.

A man who likes my Mr. Sandman rendition stops for a chat and laments the state of modern music and chat shows – “You don’t hear anything good anymore and they (TV people) just put these people on everything now, I mean, these chat shows, even someone like Alan Titchmarsh has got one. Why all of a sudden is he a chat show presenter? OK, he’s a good gardener, but he’s got a chat show now!” …another man, in a suit but without most of his teeth – “Tell you what, I used to like that, um… Duanne Eddy, you know, with the old four strings goin'” FOUR strings?…I reel off what I can remember of an instrumental of his called Raunchy, basically a riff of six notes… Time for a lunch break in the cathedral grounds. A few minutes after I sit down, a young guy sits against the tree near me and lightly strums his ukelele…I finish my crisps and small apple and get up, go over and ask him if he’s ever busked with it. He hasn’t – he doesn’t think he’s good enough. I tell him he’s a damn sight better than some people I’ve heard and maybe he should try it. On the way out I come across a busker who I saw earlier singing Where Do You Go To My Lovely, as I was walking down the high street. This was Barry, who is with his lady-friend Sharon, from the North. Barry asks me about other good busking places. I mention Salisbury, not that I know, only someone told ME it was good there recently. I ask him where he’s from. “We have a tent. We’re just passing through here – Winchester, it’s not bad – got a few quid, you know, with the guitar and we get a free meal, as we haven’t got an address, we’re entitled to one – at the Trinity Centre. We’re alright if we can get a few quid – with the guitar every day.”

I do a shortish set up the road, opposite WH Smiths and think I recognise a man sitting on the bench opposite where I play. He’s got a little boy next to him. I play The Third Man… afterwards he says “Remember me? I was really miserable and you played that.” It’s the sad man from Day 32, way back in January! I’m pleased to report that he looks better today, he has a tan and is definately more on the cheerful side. “You look better – is that your son?”  “Yeah – he’s ten, but he looks a bit younger, yeah, it was a bad day – I change with the weather, you know.” The weather must have been pretty bad that day – it was certainly cold, as I remember. I’m relieved something got better for him. I hope it’s not just the weather…as they walk off I play The Third Man again.

…an elderly man stops for a chat – “You know what you should do? Stranger On The Shore.” “Oh, that was Acker Bilk – did he play a saxophone?” “Clarinet. You should do that one – it’s a real money spinner” he says. It might be for Mr. Bilk…

…I’ve started to pack up – I’ve put my guitar down and switched my amplifier off when two young guys appear next to me. One wants “some Eric Clapton or something…Cocaine – can you play it?” Sure – an idiot could play that…and I’M the one who can play it now so I play the riff twice which takes 7 seconds – “Yeah!…know any Beatles?” he says. “Not to play on solo guitar, not really.” “Anything, man! Know any late stuff? Revolution?” I play the beginning – another 7 seconds. “Yeah, man! Anything else?”  “Hmm…I know Here Comes The Sun.” “Yeah? That’s not late period though, is it?” “Yeah, it is!” says his more with-it mate. “Yeah, it is. It’s on the last album – if that’s not late enough I don’t know what is!”, I say as I put the capo on the 7th fret. I play the beginning. “Sing it!” he shouts. “I’m not a singer – I don’t sing, YOU sing it!” “No, I’m drunk, YOU sing it!” I laugh – it’s all quite amusing. “OK, alright, I’ll do a couple of lines…Here comes the sun, do do do do…” That’ll do. Farewell, my drunken man.

Earnings: £31.52p