Diary Of A Busker Day 345 Friday March 29th 2013 Winchester High Street 1. Opposite Bellis/O2. Time: 1:13-2pm 2. Opposite Vodafone. Time: 2:30-3:05pm
A really busy Friday afternoon but as I well know, it doesn’t always relate to an abundance of coinage and I still hold with my theory; people get caught up in the forward moving throng, and there’s so much other noise and distraction for anyone to take notice of a bit of music. I get through 45 minutes before the cold hurts my hands so much that I have to stop. Being able to SEE my fingers on the right notes isn’t enough, it seems. If I can’t FEEL the strings, it’s no good. But it’s the wind that does it. When a gust comes along, even if it’s for only a second or two, that’s enough. It really makes me wince. It must look terrible; some bloke trying to play the guitar, with a pained expression. I’ve bloody well had enough of the cold. Apparently, it’s the coldest March since 1962 – just before I was born!
I go into Waterstones to warm up my hands up BEFORE I go home, as I can’t stand the thought of waiting twenty minutes until I get there. Of course, after a few minutes looking at books, they’ve warmed up a bit so I decide to do another spot before going home, but it won’t be a long one as I’ve got to be back for Ollie’s lesson. So, down to Vodafone…where the wind, very thankfully, isn’t nearly as bad as up the road…but no one’s giving any money, in fact I’m pretty sure this will be the session where I go away with literally zero coinage. I play all the “hits” – Here Comes The Sun (I’m doubting it!), La Vie En Rose, even Albatross – nothing, not a penny. And further to that, even Delia doesn’t turn up. I mean, it’s Friday for goodness sake, where is she?! (Having to rely on a little old lady to give me a pound…) Oh dear, I get very depressed…I mean, all the people about. It’s TWENTY minutes and then an asian boy who’s walked past, comes back and puts a pound coin in the bucket. I thank him most profusely…and most desperately. After that, I get a bit more, especially for my new set addition, Borsalino; Song Of The Day for what it’s worth.
For the last few minutes, a man who I’ve noticed watching me recently, here and at the other places I play, sits down on the bench on the other side, just down from me. He’s about 60, tall, bearded, wears a cowboy hat. Never speaks to me. The other day, he was there the whole time I was playing.
In the end, the money was the usual hourly average, but it really did get to me; being ignored by more or less everyone, playing music I’ve slaved over for hours every day, and that’s at home, practising, to saying nothing of playing it out here. And all for what? Practically nothing. When I got home, I had a good moan to Doll; I hated everyone and everything and worst of all, I hated myself. It was really bad. But it was the general mean-ness of people, that really got to me.
Earnings: £14.15