Diary Of A Busker Day 122 Wednesday June 29th Winchester High Street (1. outside Debenhams, Time: 2:22-3:40pm, 5:24-6:23pm, 2. opposite The Body Shop, Time: 4:10-5:14pm).
A day spent mainly at Debenhams with a change of scenery in the middle. No sign of rain today and my playing has improved from yesterday. I’m still struggling, (as Anthony would say), with Vincent, however, but I would like to get this to “performance” standard for the wedding I’m going to play at, around the corner from the cathedral, in two days. I’ve got Cavatina down alright and Georgia On My Mind should be ready.
First off, four Spanish girls give me money, then they all have their picture taken with me – one takes the picture while the other three pose behind me, x 4 – times four. I feel like an idiot, playing La Vie En Rose while smiling at the camera – the things a busker does…
Before my middle set, I talk to Frank. I think he’s fed up with busking, “I’ve got to find another line of work…” We talk of the strangeness of some of the people we come across out here. I tell him about the guy was afraid of my Halloween bucket – he couldn’t bring himself to put coins in it. Frank tells me some guy recently came up to him and said he’d give him £10 if he would stop playing for twenty minutes. I think if anyone said that to me, I’d stop playing forever.
During my last set, one of my regulars comes by and it’s only today that I find out his name – this happens alot – you get to know a few people over a length of time and find some quite personal things about them but then realise you don’t know their name. This is Ralph and he’s 91. Ralph had the good fortune to see Django Reinhardt and Stephane Grappelli play at The Hackney Empire in the 1930s. He even got to talk to them backstage at the interval. I apologise to Ralph as I don’t know any Django tunes – I’m not sure he recorded any solo guitar instrumentals. I offer him La Vie En Rose and Over The Rainbow instead. Ralph says he lives in the St. Johns Alms houses nearby. I ask if he knows Anthony – he lives there as well. He doesn’t. Ralph hates rock music, “It’s a noise, and they make billions.” Well Ralph, I played rock music for 30 years and try as I did, I made bugger all. As he goes off, it crosses my mind that some people have said my Chet Atkins arranged Chinatown, My Chinatown has a very Django-esque feel – it’s certainly the most “jazzy” thing I do and certainly the most up-tempo one. I start it up and look up the road and there’s Ralph who’s stopped, turned around and is smiling. Good, I thought he’d like that.
As I’m packing up, Anthony comes by so I ask if he knows Ralph – he doesn’t. He’s “still struggling” with the guitar so I offer to go back to his flat to see if I can help. As we’re walking, I notice Ralph sitting on the bench near the King Alfred statue, “Anthony – this is Ralph, the guy I was just telling you about!” It turns out they live a few doors from each other but have never met – until now. Anthony, at 71 is a youngster compared to Ralph. We all go back to Anthony’s flat, which is very nice, with a pleasant view of the Abbey Gardens out his kitchen window, and he plays a song – Beautiful Dreamer on his piano. He plays the piano quite well and it must be frustrating trying to do the same on the guitar but just not getting it. He shows a photo of an Italian girl friend of his – he likes Italian ladys, he says. This one was 20 years older than Anthony, “She must be dead now. She was in the Resistance in the war, you know – a spy, a very dangerous job, and she was caught by the Germans and put in a camp and she survived.” Ralph, who says he used to play the guitar, sees the one I gave to Anthony, picks it up and strums a few chords, C,F, G7 – the ones Anthony is having so much difficulty with. Maybe these two should form a group, I’m thinking. I’m amazed to hear that Ralph hasn’t got a bath, “They took that out and just left me with a shower.”, which is crazy – a 91 year old guy wants to relax in a bath, not a shower!
After I leave, I’m walking up the High Street and am overtaken by some men in Morris dancer costumes. I ask Simon, the Big Issue seller/busker if he knows anything. “Yeah, they’re all meeting at The Buttercross, there’s some competition in about 15 minutes between different teams. There’s some from America, too.” What’s this – a “Morris off?”, and with American Morris dancers, even. I decide to give this enthralling spectacle a miss, besides, I’m late for my dinner – I ended up at Anthony’s place for about an hour – I only wanted to stay a few minutes.
Earnings: £37.43p.