Diary Of A Busker Day 78 Saturday April 9th Winchester High Street (1. corner of Marks And Spencer, Time: 2:21-3:42pm, 2. opposite WH Smiths, Time: 3:50-5:42pm.)
I don’t usually play on Saturdays due to all the buskers that turn up, alot of them from out of town. There are sometimes as many as ten, all pretty well in place by 11:30. What I usually do is take my weekly hard earned coinage to the bank. So having done that, I decided to stroll down the high street and was surprised to see not one busker! On reaching the noisy corner – Marks And Spencer, local hard working flower seller – Bertie, says “hello”, points to the vacant spot across the pavement and asks me if I’ll be coming out today. I don’t know. I’ve done five days in a row, my head’s a bit full of it. But, as he points out, there’s alot of people about so could be a bit of money. I’m tempted, but what if Frank and his accordion turn up – he often plays there on a Saturday. “If he’s not here now, he won’t be coming” says Bertie, who knows these things. Bertie has an idea: he’ll give me his mobile phone number, I can ring him up if I feel like coming down and he will tell me if there’s anyone playing at the spot. What a good idea. While I’m there I ask him how long he’s been selling flowers here – “Twenty seven years. It’s bollocks.”
…two hours later, and I’m playing my first song, and two minutes in, I’ve collected £11! There’s a £5 note from a lady who says “That’s for all the times I’ve enjoyed walking past you” which, taken literally, sounds a bit insulting, but I think I know what she means. I get a few more pound coins in a matter of a few minutes – good, as it’s usually not more than a pound every five or six minutes. This is the noisiest time here at the corner. Along with the five or ten buses queueing to go around the corner every quarter of an hour, there seems to be a permanent group of twenty – ten young mothers with ten offspring in prams – standing, talking, shouting, screaming – and that’s just the mothers, in the middle of the pavement, a few feet away from me. Then there’s Berties “THREE FOR A FIVER!” young mate…and me. After an hour the noise gets too much and is possibly affecting my playing – I’m halfway through Music To Watch Girls By when I have a mental block and have to stop playing – I’ve forgotten what comes next. I go back a couple of bars and play and have to stop again. I’ve played this hundreds of times and suddenly I’ve forgotten it! It’s very embarrassing and it really scares me. Maybe I’m “busked out” or maybe it’s the noise. I hope it’s the noise.
The money’s stopped coming in – maybe I should move somewhere else. I’ve been reading Laurie Lees’ As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning, about when he busked with his violin across Spain in the ‘thirties. One of the things he learned was not to not stay in one place too long. Hmm… I think I’ll move on up the road…and…it’s a lot quieter here! A man asks if I know Fools Rush In. “No, not to play instrumentally. I’ve got a version by Frank Sinatra at home…” It’s one of those songs that has a slow, drawn out melody which I don’t think translates well on the guitar. Another person during Yellow Bird – “My grandfather liked that.” …another lady who works as a cashier in Boots gives me a coin. A few weeks ago I bought something and had my guitar with me, she said she had a ukelele but hadn’t learnt how to play it. “Are you learning the ukelele yet?” I ask. “Oh, no. I’m afraid to play it when my family are about. I think they’ll criticise me!” I say it’s probably easier to play out here than in front of her family!
It’s five o’clock and the lady with the sludge bucket prepares to do her worst. At least she warns me. Last week someone else was doing it and didn’t tell me – I almost didn’t escape in time. In the last fifteen minutes, a tall, well built young guy suddenly appears – “Pasties! A pound each! Get them NOW! A POUND A PASTY!” He’s the town crier for the pasty shop, complete with small bell. He’s got a good voice for it, too – not too high or too low, and he’s not actually shouting as such, more talking loud – his voice just has a timbre that carrys well. It’s bloody loud, in other words! I can hear him over my playing but stop as I feel I’m infringing on his task. He walks past me “A pasty for a pound! Going for a pound! I like what you play! A POUND A PASTY!”
Earnings: £28.32p