Day 2329

Diary Of A Busker Day 2329 Thursday March 21st 2024 Winchester High Street.
Rick Tarrant and his banjoist buddy are at the top spot and there’s a bloke a bit younger than me inbetween them and the crossroads – a bit to near for me to set up there, so after chatting with Don Lavelle at the crossroads (he’s in the middle of a commission – a scene looking up the high street towards the Buttercross, featuring the hat bloke and his stall – the bloke who’s commissioning him), I go further down and set up in front of the new fitness centre…and it’s fucking dire. I got a solitary pound in an hour and four minutes. I only went over the hour in the hope of getting at least one more donation but it was not to be so I packed up, walked the bike up to the crossroads, tell Don the terrible news (about the solitary donation) and set up outside Starbucks, because the other bloke further up has now gone.
The first half hour was terrible – not one donation, and I was thinking ‘Is there something wrong with my playing?’ But I checked the amp and guitar settings and everything was as it should be. Then I was thinking ‘Do I smell?’ because I’d had delivered a  black Levi’s shirt before I came out, and I’d tried it on but it had a really stale smell to it so I put it in the washing machine but I’m sure I could still smell it on me! Even that Romanian woman, who I’d bought The Big Issue off an hour and a half ago, walked by me and completely ignored me. 
Things picked up a bit, though. An old man chucked in a bag of coinage, mainly shrapnel but I could see a few small silvers there, so I’m thinking there might be a pound all totalled up. Then a couple of two-ers (£2 coins). At one point I thought things were looking up even more, when two foreign girls requested I play Space Oddity again, right after I finished it, so I did, thinking ‘Surely, they’re going to donate’ but did they? Did they fuck. They buggered off at the end and didn’t even thank me. 
At one point, Gus who has the leather stall opposite, shouted over ‘We struggle on!’ so I said ‘It’s not just me then!’
I ended up doing an hour and a half, by which time the market stall vans were starting to come in. Don was wrapping up his painting and came over to ask how it had gone and I said it wasn’t that good but a hell of a lot better than the first place but then Gus came over and said he’d had the worse day he’d had in seven years in Winchester. He’d made £10 FOR THE WHOLE DAY!
‘And I thought I’D had it bad’ I said.
‘Well, you never can tell’ said Gus. ‘I could have the best day ever, tomorrow, even in the rain. Swings and roundabouts.’
Well, I’ve had some bad days but I can’t imagine leaving with a tenner for eight hours work. I think I’d top myself.
Anyway, the old man’s shrapnel bag contained £1.21 plus 20 euro cents, so the takings for the hour and a half were £10.70 (about five times the rate poor Gus was on), bringing the day’s total to £11.91 for 2 1/2 hours. 

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