Diary Of A Busker Day 2496 Thursday February 13th 2025 Chichester.
Back to Chichester and I’m not alone; there’s a piper taking a break in front of The Cross and Dean Dyson’s down East Street – I can’t see him but I can hear him. This means I’ve got to head on down North Street, where I always seem to start off. Fortunately, the “Murray or None” spot is free. Unfortunately, it’s 5 degrees and windy and maybe it’s because of the wind that people don’t want to take their hands out of their pockets. Whatever it is, after 45 minutes, I’ve accumulated the grand total of £2 and I’m thinking this is a total waste of time and maybe I should stop and go to a warm place and work out what to do; go home and do a set there or carry on here.
There’s a young woman sitting on the bench just to my right. She’s been videoing me with her phone for around 10 minutes. I know, I’ll ask her to video me with MY phone! Why not, at least I’ll get something out of this. She agrees and I do Eleanor Rigby, with her – at my request – panning around, to get the “ambience”. After, she asks me about where she can see it so I tell her to look at my YouTube site, where she’ll see a million other videos. I ask her name so I can credit her – ‘Just your first name, if that’s OK.’ ‘It’s Jen.’ Jen listens to the next song then she waves goodbye and she’s off.
It’s almost the hour and a man comes up and says ‘I have a right handed guitar. I play it left handed upside down.’ ‘Well, at least you’re the right way up now’ I say. And with that, I pack up, putting the very sorry solitary donation of two pound coins in the red purse. My fingers are cold but they’ll be alright to go and sit outside the cathedral and have my packed lunch of two sandwiches; a salmon paste and cucumber one and a cheese and sandwich spread one, plus a few olives and half of that cookie the Pret bloke gave me yesterday. After that, I seriously need warmth, so I go back up North Street to The Real Eating Place to get a drink and have a think about what to do. My left hand is especially cold and doesn’t seem to be warming up quick enough so I put it on my right tit, between my jumper and coat, which certainly helps.
I decide not to go home but to soldier on here but look to see who’s still about. I go to the public bogs around the corner then down the little road towards East Street and I can hear that Dean’s still playing, and further up, the piper’s still about. So this means I’ll have to brave the weather back down North Street. So be it. I set up and after 10 minutes, the amp cracks up – the batteries are dead. Oh well, I’ve got some reserves…a couple of minutes later I’m playing again…but then again, the amp breaks down! Right, I’ve got a second supply of reserves…but THEY break down! Fuck this, I thought they were all charged up. What to do…I know they see batteries at Smiths across the road but I can’t leave my stuff here – but I don’t want to pack up…I know, there’s a man sitting on the bench where Jennifer was. He’s been there awhile listening to me (he hasn’t got a choice, sitting there), I’ll ask him if he can keep an eye on my stuff for a couple of minutes. He agrees so I go into Smiths. It takes longer than a couple of minutes though, more like 5, so I apologise to the bloke, who’s now with a friend. They go off and I start up…and after a bit, I SELL A CD! This means a £9 profit, which, along with the £2, goes well on the way to getting the £14.75 train fare sorted.
There are a few more donations – even a fiver (which sorts the fare out) but it’s just not happening here, which is very unusual for Chichester and all I can think of is what old George the Winchester flowerman said years ago. “Sometimes, the people don’t want red flowers”. I manage an incredibly cold TWO HOURS straight through. I mean, I can’t come all the way here and do less, but it’s pretty gruesome…but Dean’s older than me and if he can do it, I have to bloody well try. Then again, it’s not as windy down East Street. Time to pack up but when I gather the few coins and open the purse, the two coins from the first set aren’t there. You’re fucking joking, aren’t you? What’s happened to my ENTIRE takings from the first set?! Have they fallen out? I look everywhere – the case where everything goes, the guitar case, all around the pavement. They’re nowhere. Fuck this. Oh well, at the end of the day it’s only two quid. Carry on packing up but then, THEN, when I strap the guitar case to my back, one of the straps breaks. Anyway, after the train fare, the profit was £16.83…but that’s not counting the £3.60 for the coffee and the £9.50 for the batteries. Maybe I should have stayed in bed today.