Diary Of A Busker Day 363 Monday May 6th 2013 Winchester High Street 1. Opposite Oxfam. Time: 12-1:45pm 2. Opposite Bellis. Time: 2:10-2:35pm
It’s full up today, with the usual suspects; Demelza at The Buttercross, Rob (sadly minus cowboy hat) at Vodafone, and Tony at Marks & Spencer, who I have a chat with. He obviously hasn’t forgotten my letter in The Chronicle, as he hopes he’s ‘not too loud. Tell me if I am…really.’ I say I couldn’t hear him where Rob is, which isn’t that far away, and he’s facing that way, so I reckon I won’t hear him if I set up down the other way, outside C&H. Well, that’s what I reckon…but when I get down there and set up, I can hear him. In fact he’s a lot louder than he was when I was walking past Rob, and that’s a shorter distance AND he was facing me! He’s now got his back to me and his amp is facing the opposite end of the street to where I am. So why is he so much louder? I bet he’s turned up, the rotten so-and-so.
Lily, who gave me the fiver a couple of days ago, crosses the road to avoid me! All these people don’t know I see everything – EVERYTHING, like if someone is approaching me and they suddenly cross the road. But she really doesn’t have to do that. I don’t expect money off her or any of my other regulars, every time I see them.
Posh BrYan walks by – ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t got any change to give you. I spent it on a bottle of beer just now.’ ‘Well I hope it was a good one.’ Oh well, at least he’s honest.
I try out a new tune; Bert Weedon’s arrangement of Malaguena, which I’ve augmented with part of Chet Atkins’s arrangement. It’s OK but I need to do it a lot more.
A man comes up and lists all the guitar players he likes; Django Reinhardt, Mark Knopfler, and his favourite, George Benson. Not being Mr. Benson’s biggest admirer, I deploy my diplomatic response – ‘Yeah, he’s certainly distinctive.’ Then, an old woman who was squinting on the bench opposite comes over – ‘I’ve got some lasers in my eyes.’ Not knowing what else to say, I came up with ‘Oh.’ ‘And it really bloody hurts!’ Well, what else can you say apart from ‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that’. And that was that. I don’t know, she might have been waiting ages just to tell someone that.
After an hour and forty-five minutes, I move on up to The Buttercross, where Demelza is on a break while a bunch of young drummers all play the same thing on a bunch of bongos they’ve got strapped to them. I don’t get this drumming nonsense; what’s the point? So they can all stop and start at the same place? So what, big deal. I reckon you’ve got to be a bit bloody BONGO to do that. In fact, I reckon they should call themselves BUNCH OF BONGOS. In fact, some of the local down and outs should get together and do this – then they’d be DRONGOS ON BONGOS. Anyway, The Bongos have been accommodating towards Demelza and have allowed her to do her usual twenty minutes every hour. While the bongoing is going on, I ask her ‘is this the chorus or the verse?’ She says, somewhat tiresomely, ‘I don’t know, I’ve stopped listening.’ We have quite a long chat at The Buttercross but with the drumming racket and my deafness, I can hardly make out anything she says! While we’re standing there, an old guy who I’ve seen around on a bike, stops in front of us, looks at my guitar then looks at Demelza and says ‘Do you like him?’ She says ‘Yeah, he’s really good.’ Then he says ‘No, but do you LIKE him?’ What a weird thing to say. Dodgy old man.
Anyway, Bunch Of Bongos stop at 2:10 and Demelza suggests I play until she starts up at Chinese dentist (2:30) as her NEXT PERFORMANCE sign says on her table. In fact, I was able to get in twenty-five minutes as, at 2:30, when I looked to my left, Demelza, being detained by yet another chatty admirer, beckoned me to do another one, so I went out with a bang and ended with Bond.
Earnings: £36.35