Diary Of A Busker Day 261 Friday July 20th 2012 1. Opposite Phase Eight, Time: 1:30-2:15pm, 2. Opposite Bellis, Time: 2:20-2:51pm
I set up just down from WH Smiths and just up from the Timpsons cobblers, the proprietor being the infamous Busker-Hater Of Winchester High Street, but I reckon I’m far enough away not to arouse his wrath. One of my old lady regulars stops by; Lily Wilding – ‘like the film man,’ she says as she gives me some coins. I thank her – ‘Thank you, you’re very generous.’ ‘Well, I’m not like some of these people in Winchester,’ she says, pushing her nose up. ‘I know,’ I say, ‘posh people, they never give anything. Very rarely, anyway.’ I get her to pose for a photo for my album.
After Apache, an American man with his two sons come up. ‘D’ya do requests?’ ‘Sure, if I know them.’ ‘D’ya do FBI?’ ‘FBI? No, I don’t know that one. Not to play, that is.’ But I think quick!…FBI, instrumental, secret service, spy…I’ve got it! – ‘What about James Bond?’ Yeah, he likes the sound of that so I play Bond as they walk off. I don’t know what it is but whenever I’m able to fulfil a song request, the requester hardly ever hangs around to listen. So they walk off and someone else comes up so I stop Bond and speak to them, resuming and finishing Bond after THEY walk off. Another regular turns up, whose name I still don’t know even after seeing him and having numerous chats for over a year. He’s the guy who used to be a Southampton cabbie. I think he must be over eighty and he always wears a baseball cap, and he always starts off the conversation with the same line – ‘Of all he gin joints…’ from Casablanca, whether I’m playing As Time Goes By or not. Today, apart from that, he has another movie quote – ‘You may think you’re the greatest, but when you’re around me, you’ll only ever be second best!’ He can’t remember what film it’s from but says he thinks it’s a James Cagney line.
After half an hour I tune down for my Yellow Bird/Wheels/zither-style-Third Man-arrangement part of the set. Yellow Bird earns a few quid and the comment, ‘You’re the best busker in Winchester,’ from my old regular, still standing by me. I say I don’t know about that, although he might be right today, as it appears I’m the ONLY busker in Winchester. But there’s one person who doesn’t give a damn about any of that, and here he is, walking towards me, halfway through Wheels. It’s Mr. Angry Busker-Hater of Winchester High Street. The pinny-wearing man from Timpsons. He gets to me, and in more ways than one. ‘Can you move up the road?’ – it’s a demand, not a question. I don’t like mid-performance interruptions. ‘Can you wait until I’ve finished playing before you speak to me?’ and that’s not a question, either. Of course, I can see he’s angry and it’s contagious! I finish ten seconds later; let’s get this over and done with. He speaks – ‘All you do is play the same three or four songs over and over and I’m’ – I interrupt – ‘All YOU do is sell the same shoe stuff and actually I DON’T play the same three or four songs!’ ‘Yes you do!’ ‘No I don’t! I’ve played about twenty-five songs today and they’re all different!’ ‘You played James Bond twice!’ Oh, I see. He thinks my resuming an interrupted song – I’d forgotten about that – is playing it twice! ‘No I didn’t!’ He carries on, ‘and you’re not allowed to have an amplifier – I know what the Busker’s Code says! – and you’re’ – I interrupt again – ‘Actually, I AM allowed to have one but I do have to turn down IF someone complains. Anyway, this is my living!’ ‘Yeah, but you can move anywhere. I can’t move my shop! (fair point)…and also, you’re not supposed to play for more than half an hour (has he been timing me?)…I know the Busker’s Code, etc…’ Well, so do I – ‘Actually, it doesn’t say that. It’s an unwritten rule that you should leave after ONE hour.’ ‘Well anyway, I can’t move and I’m just the other side of that window and I’ve got a headache!’ He must have overdone the angry juice last night. Incredibly, I now almost feel sorry for him – ‘Oh I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say, in a not-too-sorry way. He then suggests I’ve been let off lightly – ‘Listen, you and Frank are the only two I don’t complain about (only Frank now, I guess)…can you go up there?’ He means The Buttercross. ‘Yeah, OK,’ I say and off he goes. Well, my old guy has been here the whole time and witnessed the whole sordid affair and I think he’s a bit shocked. In fact I’M rather annoyed and even a bit shaky. I’m not used to getting this sort of negativity, certainly not at that velocity. ‘Well,’ says my old guy, ‘I’ve never seen that before!’ ‘I know about him. I shouldn’t really have set up here. He hates buskers.’ It’s true, I should have known better. I remember the Russian vibraphonist who was subjected to an attack earlier in the year – ‘I vant to KILL him!’ he said. Oh well, I can now hold my head high and say proudly that I have experienced and survived the unbridled wrath that is the man from Timpsons; the dreaded Busker-Hater Of Winchester High Street. May he live long and complain the whole time.
Earnings: £11.27 + 1 CD
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