Day 2184

Day 2184 Thursday June 29th 2023 Chichester

 

There’s a police van with a table of leaflets in front of The Cross and a singer/strummer up North Street so I’ve got no choice in the matter. East Street it is – and very rare for me to start up there. I’m beset with technical gremlins; the amp keeps going silent very suddenly, which is most embarrassing, and I think the rechargeable batteries are nearing the end of their life. They should last a good four hours, so a day’s playing but they lasted only an hour and a half for this set before I had to put in the reserve ones. They’re good for 1300 recharges so if I work that out that’s about 300 recharges per year (after every session) so about four years, which is about right. I know when they need replacing because it starts to buzz on the 7th fret of the low E string. As all the batteries are about the same age, I can’t rely on the reserves lasting any longer so I’ll get some normal ones and also a new lead to go from the guitar to the equaliser as I reckon that’s the culprit for the sound issue.

So…finish the set, pack up, go to the bog, go to Boots to get the batteries, then up the road to the guitar shop. On the way there was a four-black horse drawn hearse on West Street outside the cathedral, awaiting the coffin (“Just room for one more inside, sir!”) There were loads of people taking pictures of it, including me. At the guitar shop, the shortest lead I could get was a 10 foot one for £8.99. I tried to pay by card but the bloke’s machine wouldn’t work. No problem as I had the omnipresent fistful of fivers in my “sky”. You can’t rely on these card machines – they’re bollocks, you need cold hard coinage and plastic notes.

Back down the road, the strummer’s still going and the cop van is still there so I’ve got no choice but to go back to where I was, which will no doubt please the shop people. They’ve just had two hours of me and now they’re going to get another two! In fact, I’m not quite as far down the road as I was (there was no more than 20 feet in it) and I was opposite some benches. One old bloke came over from the bench and said “You don’t have to take it so seriously!” I reckon he was referring to my ever-present frown. Well, I can’t help what my fucking face looks like! Anyway, a good turn out, with lots of pound coins, two tenners, two CD sales. Near the end, a bunch of schoolboys milling outside the card shop on my right. One comes over and plonks a big red envelope in the case, returns to his mates, they giggle and run off. After the song I pick up the envelope – there’s a card inside. On the front “to my husband on our anniversary”. On the inside, “To guitar man” above a soppy verse then under that “good like (luck, I’m assuming) hope you go the distance, from Charlie, Call me 07493016587(or 1)”. I thought that was funny. I bet they nicked the card!

 

As usual, on my return train journey someone decided to chuck themselves in front of one of my trains and I was an hour late getting back to the chester of Winch. At the ticket gate, a couple of young blokes were going through but the second bloke’s ticket wouldn’t open the gate. The station bloke was an enormous bald bloke – “Let’s ‘ave a look at that ticket…yeah, well, it’s not a ticket, it’s a confirmation pass – it’s not a ticket.”

His mate – “You got your ticket, mush, yeah?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“No mate, this isn’t a ticket, it’s a confirmation ticket, it’s not a ticket to travel.”

“You calling me a muppet?”

“I’m saying it’s not a ticket!”

“I’m not a fucking muppet, YOU’RE a fucking muppet!” and with that he turned to his side, slid through the middle of the barrier and out the door.

 

The big bloke said to me “You see, you never get far being a muppet.”

“Well, he got that far – he got out the station!”

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