Day 2665

Day 2665
Tuesday March 10th 2026
Winchester

Back into town with the bike, now with nice, non-squeaky and working front break. I picked it up yesterday and my man didn’t want any money for the repair – and he had to take the hub apart. I wanted to pay him but he just said to buy him some biscuits so I bought a tin of Royal Dutch and a packet of chocolate digestives, which he was chuffed with – ‘I can ‘ave ’em with me cuppa tea.’ So he’ll be a fat, broke bike shop repair bloke.

I was going to set up at Nando’s but Jacob was opposite, in a Batman outfit and dancing to his ghetto blaster. I went up the road a bit to the crossroads and there’s a bloke packing up a speaker. I asked him if he’d done alright and he said ‘I don’t sing. I preach gospel’ so I said again ‘You done alright?’. Uh, yeah, OK. This is a good spot, you can set up here if you like.’ ‘I usually play over there but yeah, this is a good spot, but cheers, anyway.’ At the same time I was setting up, Don arrived, to set up his easel…and it’s bloody cold and more to the point, really windy. It wasn’t too bad when I came in but not now.

Twenty minutes in and I’m frozen and the wind has blown shut the case a few times. An old woman donates and chats for a bit, which gives me time to put the hands in the pockets to warm them up.
‘You’ve been here a long time, haven’t you?’ she says.
‘Yeah, fifteen years…you must be fed up with me by now!’
‘Oh, you’re a familiar face…I’m 87.’ I was born just before the last war started.’
‘I started playing here when I was 48 and now i’m 63…so you were born in 1939, then.’
‘Yes, and I lived through that war and I’m hoping to live through this next one.’
‘Well, there are always wars on.’
‘Yours is a very familiar face here’ she says. ‘You don’t see very many familiar faces round anymore.’
‘Well, maybe some people have moved away? Or…you know (I’m trying not to say ‘died’).
‘Winchester’s a lovely place, surrounded by hills.’
‘Yeah…it’s not bad. I’m not from here but my son was born here and it’s a nice place to bring a child up.’
‘Yes…everything changes, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, nothing stays the same. The way of the world.’
‘Well, it’s nice to hear you…lovely music.’
‘Thank you and nice to see you again. You have a nice day and I’ll see you again soon.’ I haven’t got a clue who she is but my hands are thankful!

I did an hour then decided to pack it in after a couple of more songs. Don comes across to see how I am. He’s holding his small cup of coffee – he always has his flask with him.
‘I’m bloody freezing and I’m going home in a minute, Don!’
‘Well, I know. I’ve got one glove on this hand (his right, his painting hand) and two on this one.’
‘Really? I can’t wear any.’
‘I know. I’ll probably stay on till seven – I’m workin’ on a commission, an evening painting, so I need the dark. I’m just going to have a look at the art gallery down there (the Clarendon on Market Street), I shouldn’t do it because it depresses me.’
‘Oh right, yeah!’

Don walks off and ten seconds later he’s looking in the gallery window. I do Here Comes The Sun for the 2nd time…Don comes back –
‘Say, while you’re still here,Marvin, I’ll go to the toilet.’
‘OK Don, I’ll keep an eye on your stuff.’ Off he goes and he’s gone for a good ten minutes and I’m thinking what do I do if his easel blows over because it really is windy, or if someone kicks it over, but nothing like that happened, just a lot of people walking by and looking at it. When Don comes back, I decide to do my little version of Winchester Cathedral, and it sounds great on the 12-string – I’m just hamming it up, well, busking it, literally! Don got into it, though. And that’s it, I can’t feel my fingertips and I’m done. I pack up, walk the bike over to Don, have a quick look at the painting – ‘Looking good, Don’ and I’m off.
I managed an hour and a half – amazing considering the weather – and took £18.40.