Diary Of A Busker Day 486

Diary Of A Busker Day 486 Tuesday December 31st 2013 Winchester (Opposite Vodafone, Time: 5:38-7:08pm).

Being at a loss, due to – for the first time in years – my presence NOT being required for any cabaret gig on New Year’s Eve, I decide to venture forth into town. I’m sure I can do an hour, at least: the temperature’s OK and, like yesterday, there’s not much wind. Anyway, it might be interesting as I’ve never busked on New Year’s Eve…

…at 5:30 there aren’t many about. I have a scout around…I was thinking of setting up near The Slug & Lettuce but when I got there, there was no one sitting outside, and hardly anyone walking about. In other words, the place was deserted!, so I went for the crossroads spot. Last time there: four days ago.

Things go a bit slow until the 4th song – Girl, when I get two donations at once. Hell, I was going to name it Song Of The Day!, until the next song – Albatross, got a £5 note from a rather stunning young Amazonian-looking woman. That was at 5:30. I know it was then because I was so thrilled, I wrote the time down. Then three Chinese girls, all smiling (one bowed to me) gave the usual: a penny or a 2p coin, each. That always makes me laugh. I think I’d be disappointed – I might even go into a state of shock – if I ever got anything more from the Chinese donors.

Time went pretty slow…I remember looking at my watch, thinking an hour had gone and it was only 35 minutes. By 6:30 there’s hardly anyone about. I can see people in either direction but they’re quite far away and moving further away, so I decide to pack it in after Yellow Bird…but then a woman with a trolley and a couple of bags turns up and leans against the Monsoon wall, just behind me and to my right. I’ve seen her before, I reckon she’s 60-65, and she walks really slow. She’s rubbing her eyes alot so I ask if she’s alright. She says ‘I like listening to music’, and that’s it. So, I was going to stop but I reckon I might as well carry on for a bit, I mean, who knows, maybe she’s got nowhere to go.

Then a tall, young woman, with a short black shirt (there’s a song title there, I’m sure) and her boyfriend(?) appear. She sits, or rather lies, down, with her elbows on the pavement, her knees together and feet far apart, facing me, so I can see right up her skirt! He stands, shuffling around her, occasionally stooping to have a snog. So I’ve got these two and this other woman – my captive New Year’s Eve audience! After more rubbing of her eyes, the woman lights a cigarette and turns away from me. I go through my de-tuned set: Wheels, authentic zither-style Third Man, then tune down further for Jesu…and, what the hell, I was going to bugger off after these but I might as well tune back up and do a couple more…

…during Somewhere Over The Rainbow, the girl hums along, the boyfriend wanders off then comes back for another stooped snog. Apart from them and the lady, there’s no one about – bizarre! It’s also really dark, now –  like a weird film set! …after half an hour – that’s 1 1/2 hours non-stop – my hands have had it, I really do have to go, and I’m still supposed to be taking it easy. In fact, yesterday, although the hands – or the troublesome left thumb, to be precise – were OK when I was playing, when I got home I could feel the pain, and I hadn’t done as long as I’ve been doing tonight, so that’s it!

So I put the guitar away and tell the lady I’m going in a minute. Meanwhile the girl gets up (just before, she’d changed her position: she’d stretched her legs and crossed them: rather more decent but somewhat less interesting), and she comes over, smiles, donates, and says Happy New Year. I then ask the older woman if she’s got anywhere to go. She says she’s lost her bus pass but there’s some place in Eastleigh where she goes and there’s a place in Romsey…and Southampton and there’s a street pastor who pays her visits and her husband – her second one – swindled her out of £800 and she’s been homeless for five years. She tells me all this very matter-of-factly, and speaks very fast, like it’s very well-rehearsed, a set piece, even.  And she doesn’t seem too bothered about her bus pass – stolen, not lost, now. In fact, she says it’s been stolen a few times before.

Then, two CPSOs turn up: the one I see around here – Neil, and another one. Neil says ‘You alright, Nancy?’ Nancy says her bus pass has been stolen. Neil says she shouldn’t worry: he’s sure they’ll let her on a bus, being New Year’s Eve. She potters about with a bag. I say to Neil ‘So she’s alright, is she?’ He says ‘Yeah, Nancy – one of the waifs and strays, you know. She’s got a bus pass, keeps getting it stolen’. He doesn’t seem too concerned, so I suppose she must be able to look after herself.

The CPSOs go off and I start talking to Nancy again, during which I try to record our conversation by switching my camera to the movie setting. I felt a bit guilty about that afterwards, as I didn’t tell her I was doing it! It was a waste of time, though: all it picked up was one of the son and heir’s friends walking by, saying Happy New Year! They’d just come from Pizza Express, apparently.

Anyway, I abandon the idea of a short documentary and instead ask Nancy if I can take her photo for my photo album – I’m determined to preserve something of this!, because I haven’t taken any in a while. She says ‘OK. At least you ask, not like some’. Ahh, she must have had a few who go “Oh, look at that bag lady – let’s get a picture”, I reckon. Then, in a cheap attempt at solidarity, I say ‘It’s the same with me: I get lots of people taking photos and videoing me – mainly tourists, and they do it most blatantly’. I get two pictures: one from a few feet away with a very bright light behind her, so you can’t really see her face, and another one: closer so you can see her face. She likes the one where you can’t see her face.

I say ‘So you’re Nancy’, and she says ‘Yes – what’s your name?’ I tell her and say that I think I’ve seen her before when I’ve been out playing. She says ‘Yes, I’ve seen you lots. You’re usually up there (nods towards The Butter Cross)’. I say ‘Sometimes. Sometimes here, sometimes down there’ – I nod towards the statue. She says ‘Some funny people about. Some not nice’. I agree. I bet she’s had to deal with some horrible people.

And then I’m off. I say Happy New Year. She says ‘Well, fourteen’s a good number’. I say ‘Is it?’ She says ‘Yes, there were fourteen days to the crucifixion, fourteen days…resurrection…’.

Earnings: £26.53p