Day 2735
Wednesday September 2nd 2026
Southampton
I times it right. When I came out of the mall entrance there was a bloke finishing packing up. We had a chat – he’d come up from Portsmouth. I said I’d come from Winchester – ‘Why do you want to come here? It’s better in Winchester.’ I said the usual – I try and avoid Winchester during the week as it’s pretty much dead – the weekends are much better. He didn’t seem convinced. Anyway, he waved me goodbye during the first number La Vie En Rose. I’d left it late to come out due to the rain – I started playing at 5 o’clock, facing south towards the Bargate. It was a good spot – well, it was under cover which was good as there was slight drizzle the whole time, and the sound was good for some reason. Unfortunately, the coinage was awful. The fish just weren’t biting. Forget about the fish, the people weren’t biting…which was a relief as I don’t want to come out and have people biting me during Cavatina.
I did get some appreciation, though. Around the hour and a half mark, a bunch of teenage boys with skateboards were behind me and they started banging their skateboards to the beat of The Third Man then they all shouted and clapped at the end, and again, after Mr. Sandman. ‘Thank you, that’s the most applause I’ve had all week…in fact all year.’ Not only that but there was a down and out sitting nearby who tapped his thumb for a few songs. Doesn’t get much better than that.
Half an hour before the end, a familiar face appeared. The young guy with the 5-string bass – I might not have mentioned him before. He turned up with his girlfriend, planted himself next to the concrete thing, got his bass out of the gigbag and started tapping in quite an aggressive fashion (it always looks aggressive when they do that). He clapped occasionally, when he wasn’t tapping away. He looked like a member of Bon Jovi…apart from his Hello Kitty T-shirt. Very rock and roll.
Ten minutes before the end, a man with a trolley with bags of food and an enormous silver coffee container came by and asked if I’d like a coffee. I said that would be splendid then he offered me a bag of food – ‘Thank you but I’m fine. I’m not homeless!’ I said. One of the real homeless people nearby jumped at this and got his dinner.
When I was packing up (the obligatory two hours) the slapping bassist shouted ‘You’re really good. How long you been playing?’ ‘Two hours’ I said. I knew he meant how many years/decades but I couldn’t be bothered going through all that malarky. I had a train to catch…and just as I was about to walk off, the down and out got up to say how much he liked my playing – ‘Was that a twelve-string?’ ‘It certainly was…and still is.’ ‘Yeah, I like a lot of that stuff you did.’ ‘Ah, all the old stuff.’ ‘Yeah man. I’d give you some money but I ain’t got any, I’m in Southampton to have a break from Bournemouth.’
The profit after the train fare was £10.78. Beyond crap but at least I’ve now been paid for the Chestnut Horse gig, thanks to David W – a man of influence, who read my last entry when I bemoaned the situation. Thank God (or whatever) there are good people about.