Diary Of A Busker Day 97 Sunday May 15th Winchester High Street (opposite WH Smiths, Time: 2:55-5:25pm.)
Busking on a Sunday is a rare occurance for me – God and I rest on a Sunday. But an hour or two won’t do any harm, I reckon. Emerging from the Westgate, I can already see quite a few people about, and when in town I take the by now obligatory patrol down the high street, to see who and what’s about. Today the market, which is now on three days a week, is now extended up to where the covered bit – The Pentice, begins. This means there’s not as much busking area. There’s a guy blowing a saxophone actually in one of the stalls, I reckon he must be the stall owner, and some sort of violin-y noise coming from a bit further down, where Bertie usually is. Apart from them, there’s no one else playing anything, so I’m back up to W H Smiths, rather hurriedly in case someone turns up and gets the space – like those two girls the other day. I set up near the grill where the pasty people dump their day’s end sludge. In fact it’s almost right in front of me, just to the left. This is because, due to my left hearing aid being lost, I need to have my amplifier on my right side, thereby moving myself further to the left, right near the pillar. There are many of these which support the roof all along this bit. I’m always next to a pillar! But I don’t like to be in between two pillars as I’d be blocking the entire space from the high street to a shop like Boots or one of the others along there. Maybe I think that, subconciously, the pillar may take the place of another human, so I’m part of a duo and not so alone, not that I mind being alone – there’s no discussions/arguments about what song to play, how long to play, when to take a break… Or maybe it’s some sort of security blanket. Who knows…not me! However the drain is quite pungent, I’ll have to see how I get on.
The day turns out quite uneventful, and – unusually – barely anyone speaks to me. The money takes along time coming and I end up with sixteen quid for two and a half hours – not good at all. I’ve had alot worse, though. One interesting thing I’ve noticed out here is you sometimes get to see a different side to some people you may know. I’ve had people – aquaintances I’ve known for years and spoken to many times ignore me when they see me out here. I think that all they see is a guy with a bucket, begging. They don’t see someone very “presentable” playing music which has taken one heck of a long time to learn, and trying really hard to do it right. And although alot of my aquaintances know of my busking and seem quite interested if I talk about it, when they see me actually doing it, some of them I don’t think can handle it! I don’t know – maybe they’ve never known a busker – I mean, it’s not a ‘proper job’! Although I bet I make as much an hour, or more, than some of them with their proper jobs do. I suppose it doesn’t fit in to their closeted world. But they think they can walk past me and I won’t see them – heaven forbid if someone else they know sees them in conversation with a guy with a bucket in front of him! This happened today – someone was walking from one of the small roads which goes into the high street from the opposite side from where I am, so they were walking diagonally towards me. They obviously saw me rather late and tried to avoid me by going around the back of me, under the covered bit. I always see this sort of thing and I know what they’re doing and sometimes I let it pass but sometimes I think they should know better and so make them uncomfortable by insisting they WILL acknowledge me! – so I shout “Hi there!” and they don’t like it! And a few days ago, I had someone come up and look down at my bucket the way you’d look at a dead animal that had been on the side of the road for a few days. Hm…yes, it’s a kind of snobbery of which there is quite a lot of in Winchester. Maybe it’s everywhere. I’ve also noticed, like Laurie Lee noticed when he was busking in the thirties, that well-off folks, or ones that LOOK well-off, never ever ‘give’. The lady who saw me just after she sold her house for £2 million I will regard as the exception to the rule! Still, she didn’t give me much considering what she’d just got…but it’s always the same – the ones who don’t have much, they’re the most generous. And the old people. Not the rich old people. And especially the women. The old women. But not the rich old women…
Earnings: £16.35p