Diary Of A Busker Day 584 Thursday July 3rd 2014 Winchester (Opposite Bellis, Time: 4:30-6:10pm).
As I was walking the bike up the road, a tall, young guy with a guitar passed me. Ten minutes later, I’ve sat down, tuned up and about to start, when I hear someone singing that bloody awful Adele song, and it’s that guy, about 50 feet down from me! So I get up, walk out a couple of feet, and there’s a woman standing in front of him, who sees me – I’m still holding the guitar – and ignores me. Anyway, I stay standing there, she looks at me again, then the bloke laughs…and then they’re gone – good, as there was no way I was going to move! Cheeky. I reckon they were testing me. I stood my ground, for once!
So I sit down and just before starting up again, an old guy who’s always around here, drops a 5p coin – shrapnel, more or less – in the bucket, and says, ‘I found it on the ground. It wasn’t for me so you might as well have it’. Thanks pal, for putting an almost worthless coin in my bucket. I mean, he might not have meant it, but give me a break – some people are old enough to know better…aren’t they?
So, 2 offenders…soon to be 3. The third, in the form of a 3 year old girl/brat, who comes up and starts stroking the strings on the guitar WHILE I’M PLAYING IT. The mother? – all she does is come up to watch. How can an adult let a child do that? Is this the new breed of parent? – of the type that worship their child and believe they can do no wrong? So, I suppose the REAL offender was the adult.
One person watching and shaking his head in disapproval, was the Greek(?) bloke who does the sand sculpture of the lying down dog, outside W. H. Smiths. HE can shake his head in disapproval: I swear it’s a con: the dog never changes, it’s always in the same state of near-completedness. I know I’ve said this before, but it’s GOT to be a con!
Three offenders? Come on, I’m sure Winchester can squeeze another one in! Sure enough, near the end, a FOURTH offender appears. A drunk (I think) middle-aged woman – a Drongo (I’m sure) who leans in during a concentrated performance – NOT a good way to start an acquaintance with me – and says, ‘Didn’t you have a beard?’ I ignore the comment. In fact, I ignore everything she says, but even so, she goes on – ‘Yeah, you had a beard…didn’t you used to play outside the ‘hospital?…yeah…I’m sure it was you…you used to play outside…didn’t you?…I’m sure it was you…a beard…I’m sure…’. If she was so sure, why did she ask me? She goes and sits on The Butter Cross and was there when I packed up, and she’s probably there now, hours later. Weird people and offenders, everywhere.