Diary Of A Busker Day 173 Monday October 24th Winchester High Street (1. opposite Clinton Cards, Time: 2:58-4:40pm, 2. opposite Card Factory, Time: 5:05-5:35pm).
A young shop guy, taking a break, says my pumpkin bucket’s now finally in season. “Yeah, just for one day of the year”, I say. “Well, for a week”, he says. The money’s really slow, I’ve got only £4.73 (it doesn’t take long to count it – I just lean over and look for five seconds), for an hour’s playing.
Mick – always on the lookout for the bargain supermarket food – drops by. Have I seen Anthony lately? No. He hasn’t come up to me for a few days. “Apparently”, says Mick, my informant on many things, “he’s been done – to the tune of three hundred quid, by a Russian internet dating site! He he.”, he sniggers. But wait, I remember Anthony saying, “I always say to the girl, “I’d have to be a fool to send money over. Do you want to be married to a fool?”.” I tell Mick this. “Well, he sent some money over – three hundred quid, he says, to get a flight. Well, she got a flight alright – in the other direction! He he…”, he sniggers (more) and wanders off…and returns fifteen minutes later, by which time I’m really fed up with the money situation. “You don’t look too happy”, he says. “I’m not, I’ve had enough of this – I’m going to pack up in a minute.” “Why’s that?” “Look”, I nod to my bucket, “nothing.”
Other people see my plight and suggest money-making ideas. One lady says I should learn some religious songs – like Amazing Grace. “There’s a strong religious community here, you know. You could get the words on an MP3, coming out of a speaker.” “What? You mean have a backing track?” No, I think not. Another (old) lady – the one in the electric wheelchair who always seems to materialise when I’m playing The Third Man, motors up and looks in the bucket. “He he – you should leave it there for two days – when you come back, it’ll be full up, he he.” I think not. Other requests are: a lady – Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. My responce: “I can remember the chorus, but not the verse – I don’t think it would translate well for one guitar.” A foreign man – Leonard Cohen. My responce: “Very difficult- you need someone singing the words for Leonard Cohen – I don’t think the melody’s are good enough on their own.” I decide against attempting Hallelujah, which I’d done for the bride-to-be recently, and anyway, I don’t have the words with me… One lady cheers me up – briefly, “I wish I could play like you”, she says – and I get a £2 coin. That’s the sort of thing I need – a nice compliment, backed up by a big, fat silver and gold coin.
After more than an hour and a half, and £8.24p, I pack up and take a break. A few minutes later, I decide to give it one last shot and set up outside Debenhams. Ian, from the council walks by – he stopped donating months ago. “How’s it going today?”, he says. “Not too well, I’m afraid!” He too is frustrated, “I keep looking for the horizon.” “You mean waiting for your ship to come in?” I say. “Yeah, only my ship’s got a hole in it, I’m beginning to wonder!”
During Edelweiss, a man crosses the road – a donation! I thank him most profusely. “I saw an Edelweiss”, he says. “Sorry?” “I saw an Edelweiss, on a mountain – how could I pass you by?” A nice chap – who’s paid me for reminding him of something. It starts raining – I have to pack up again, but not before I’m able to greatly impress a Mr. Adrian Watneys (he of the well-known brewery). He thinks I’m great and wants me to come and play at a club he’s opening soon, in Dover Street, just off Piccadilly…
Earnings: £12.78p.
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