Diary Of A Busker Day 244 Wednesday June 6th 2012 Winchester High Street 1. Opposite Vodafone, Time: 2:30-4:03pm, 2. Opposite Oxfam, Time: 5:19-5:49pm, 3. Opposite Phase Eight, Time: 5:55-6:30pm
Things go OK at my first spot. I sell a CD to an Iranian Roy Orbison lookalike and manage to accumulate just under £20 – slightly above the hourly average. I meet Peter, who has a request I cannot fulfil; Living Doll. Peter then makes himself at home, standing next to me for fifteen minutes, whistling along…then he starts talking about Jesus and how he died for me/him and everyone. ‘…that’s what I believe in – people can disagree.’ I put my tuppence in – ‘Well, I disagree, anyway, there are loads of religions in the world and they all think they’re right!’ Peter leaves. I don’t mind a religious lecture as long as it’s accompanied by some cash, like what Ken gave me recently on my Golden Day.
I’m quite pleased with my performance; I’ve played an hour and a half and not repeated anything…apart from The Third Man, but as I played two different arrangements, that doesn’t count.
I have a break and eat my small green apple in the cathedral grounds and then have a look at the prayer board in the church in the alley way. There was a very sad one. Under the typed ‘Please pray for’ at the top of the little card was written in a child’s hand: ‘Daddy in his new life
(heavan)’ – with a halo above the misspelt word.
There are a bunch of young buskers near The Buttercross (violin, accordion, small drum, bloke singing), so that spot’s out and I don’t want to go back to where I was, so it’s down to the arse-end…where I have a pretty depressing half hour with only two contributions, oh dear, and where one of my pet hates, namely paper napkins blowing around my vicinity, causes me great frustration, aarrrggghhh! I’m off, and six minutes later I’m somewhere else just as bad. Only this time, to be bothered by two more of my pet hates. (a) Small children (age 6-9) making a detour from the other side of the street to come and nose around my bucket to see how much is in it. Then, having seen what’s in it (ie: bugger all), they look at me blankly before they return to the parent/s. I hate that. I get three of them doing that, and (b) Toddlers and a bit older (age 2-5) coming up to my guitar and strumming it WHILE I’M PLAYING IT AND TO THE AMUSEMENT AND ENJOYMENT OF THEIR PARENTS WHO LOOK ON LOVINGLY. Oh my goodness, this drives me insane and into thinking terrible, violent things. This – there’s no other word for it – CRIME is committed twice during my final session and by the same child/monster. The second time came fifteen minutes after the first, as the brat came back down the street. I need a sign: ‘Parents – control your children and under NO circumstances allow him/her/it to attempt to ‘play’ my guitar at the same time as I AM PLAYING IT! Teach them respect! – I HAVE BEEN PLAYING THE GUITAR SINCE BEFORE YOU WERE EVEN THOUGHT OF. YES, YOU!!! (UNDERLINED), NOT BEFORE YOUR HELLISH DEMON CHILD WAS THOUGHT OF, BUT BEFORE YOU(UNDERLINED) WERE THOUGHT OF BY YOUR PARENTS! Thank you. CDs are £5′
Earnings: £22.80 + 1 CD
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