Diary Of A Busker Day 94 Monday May 9th Winchester High Street (1. opposite Clinton Cards, Time: 1:35-2:45pm, 2. corner of Marks And Spencer, Time: 2:50-6:05pm.)
I see Frank sitting on the bench outside WH Smiths, without accordion and also without dog. “You not playing today, Frank?” “No, just people watching. Colin (trumpeteering busker – always with a helpful tip for us less experienced buskers) is down at the other end, so you’ve got the street to yourself.” I set up and play and it’s twenty-five minutes before I get the first coin, from my Italian lady, Delia, who has been listening from just behind me – I know she’s been there, I can just see her in ther corner of my eye. She thinks I can’t – I know! I stop playing. “Oh, don’t stop”, she says. “Well, thank you, Delia – you’re my first customer.” I ask about her ear problem. It’s a bit better, she’s got to put some olive oil in to clear it up. Yes, I know all about olive oil – the best thing, just ordinary olive oil, not the stuff they charge a fortune for in the chemist. I know all about it, I say, as I have a narrow ear canal in one of my ears…
A man compliments me on my As Time Goes By arrangement (though he still doesn’t contribute to the ’cause’) and reckons I should get it up on the internet, but I don’t even regard it as a proper arrangement. Colin, the tipful trumpeteering busker walks by. He’s finished down at the botttom. He’s got guts – he sets up right in the middle of the street, whereas I set up against the wall of the shop. I wonder if he has any more helpful tips for me. “Hi there” he says and looks at my bucket. “I’ve got a good tip (I knew it!)…what you do is you cut the top of your bucket right ’round and leave just a couple of inches on the bottom, then put the top back on. That way, if anyone tries to steal it they leave the bottom with all your money in. ‘Cause it happened to me, it was terrible, y’know.” “Hm…yeah, I see what you mean.” “Yeah, and if they pick it up by the handle, they just lift the top off!” “Yeah, well, I might try that.” If anyone tried to rip me off right now they’d get away with £4.75, as this is what I’ve made in an hour and a half – not good so I’m going to move down where Colin’s just been, not in the middle of the road, in my usual darkened spot.
…and it’s better straight away – and in the sun, but not too warm, with a nice breeze. I’ll park here for a bit. A man comes up and is convinced I am another busker who plays Bob Dylan and Fleetwood Mac songs. No, that’s not me, sorry (why apologise?) But he’s sure it IS me – “I’m one hundred per cent sure and I never forget a face.” Well, they say there’s a first time for everything and he’s clearly forgotten the face of the guy who DOES play Bob Dylan and Fleetwood Mac because it’s not mine – unless I have a double working here in the high street.
I see a man coming up the road on the other side of the street and I’m sure it’s the Scottish bloke who went nuts when I played the Smoke On The Water riff awhile back. I’m finishing La Vie En Rose, he comes over and leans in – “You ever been to Louisiana?” “No.” “Well, that’s where all that music yer playin’ is from – the blues. Never been to Georgia? Alabama?” “Nope, never.” “And yer playin’ that music – blues? And you don’t know it’s from over there, the southern states?” “What – La Vie En Rose?” “What?” “What I’m playing – La Vie En Rose. It’s Edith Piaf, it’s French!” “Oh…well…I haven’t got any pennies…hey, enjoy the sunshine!” “Yeah, ok.” Indeed, the sun is out and the song of the day is As Time Goes By. I’ve played it five times already and it’s earned me a couple of pounds, at least. A lady comes up – “Were you on that talent show, Britain’s Got Talent?” “Me? No way!” “I’m sure it was you. You play a guitar.” No, I say again, it wasn’t me – what is this, the day of mistaken identity or something? She goes on – “What was his name?…oh…Armstrong, yes! Someone Armstrong from Waterlooville, but they showed him playing in Winchester.” “Right, well it was probably a younger guy, but my name’s not Armstrong, it’s Naylor!”
A familiar and strange character walks by – the man who walks with a purpose, always clutching the same Harry Potter dvd. But today he’s got a tanned face and a rucksack on his back with one of those foam mats you roll out to make a bed with when you’re camping – a so-called “leisure” activity I avoid at all costs, but I’ve seen other people do it and they have these things they roll up and tie on to the top of their rucksacks.
A lady gives some change and says “You should play in the Shetland Islands – you’d like it there, I’ve just been.” “Yes, I bet it would be nice. Trouble is, who’s going to pay my train fare?” “Ha, yes…well, are you going to play Yellow Bird?” “Yeah, ok. I played it an hour ago, it’s about time I did it again – just let me change the tuning, I have to change two strings, y’see…I have to lower them…have you heard me play this before?” “Yes, and it always reminds me of my mother.” Interesting – I’ve heard this same thing from other ladies. “Ok, Yellow Bird, here you go…” I have to admit I like playing this – it’s a great Chet Atkins arrangement and not too tiring for my bad right hand and I can add as many verses and bridges I want as the separate melodies are all so memorable, so it never gets boring – not for me, anyway. A man in his sixties listening on the bench opposite comes over – “I remember the songs, that’s the trouble!” and laughs. And again I wonder what I’ll do when all the people who know these old songs – and give money, all die off… A couple of ladies with a pram talk to me and give me a notepad they’ve bought for a pound from the er…poundshop, around the corner. They ask if I’m “going to do another article in the paper”, to which I give my standard reply – “it’s not up to me but by all means, write to them and say you want to read more or better still, you can go to their office and tell them in person, it’s just around the corner!” They ignore me and move on – “and here is Baby Elizabeth…”
Earnings: £36.28p.