Day 2747
Friday October 3rd 2026
Winchester
Had a chat with Don on the way down – he’s was halfway down The Pentice and around halfway through his latest painting. As we were shooting the breeze four schoolgirls walk by. ‘Oh, here they are. The schoolgirls. They usually come in threes, I see them everyday…I’ve painted them into the painting.’
‘Hey!’ shouts Don after them, ‘come here, look…see there (he points his brush at three tiny figures in the painting)…that’s you three, see?’ They come a bit closer to have a look.
‘You’re immortalised now’ I chip in, ‘that painting will be around for hundreds of years!’
After the girls have gone, Don says ‘Sometimes I let them come up – the kiddies mainly, and let them put a bit of paint on the painting. I mean, not really. I give them a brush and say they can do this bit, that bit, you know, but there’s no paint on the brush and my wife says I shouldn’t do that. She says it demeans what I do, you know.’
‘Yeah, I see what she means, I mean, you don’t NEED to do that but people will like to do it, I suppose.’
‘Yeah, they do so I think “what’s the harm in it?”, you know?’
‘Yeah, I mean, I know it’s not the same thing but I get little children coming up and touching the strings on the guitar. I mean toddlers, and I let them do it…sometimes. It depends what mood I’m in!’
Down at Nando’s, it’s a busy Friday afternoon and the coinage is not bad, not like it usually is down here! Ten minutes in, a bloke who looks like he’s just crawled out of a rubbish bin comes up. He’s holding a penny whistle – ‘You know, I can’t hear what I’m playing ’cause you’re so loud (good old ALTO Professional Busker amp)…you couldn’t move somewhere else, could you, or turn your speaker in another direction? I’m bein’ reasonable.’
‘Right…OK, how long have you been playing?’
‘Oh…’bout an hour. I’m up there, near the pound shop and I can’t hear myself. I’m bein’ reasonable.’
‘Yeah, I’m sure you are. OK, well you’ve been an hour an I’ll be an hour here then I’ll move somewhere else…or YOU could go somewhere else like up there (nod towards the crossroads) because I’m all set up and you’re a bit more mobile.’
‘Yeah, maybe…I dunno…I’m bein’ reasonable.’ And with that, the most reasonable man I’ve ever met buggers off back to the bin from whence he came. I carry on playing, all the time keeping an eye on him as he’s in my direct line of vision in the distance. I did, in fact, turn the speaker slightly away to the right so maybe that was enough. Anyway, he never returned. I’ve seen him loads of times, always in that area. He doesn’t really play any tunes, just blows air in his whistle thing.
Later on, during La Vie En Rose, a short woman with blue hair comes up. I’ve spoken to her many times, no idea what her name is.
‘You alright? Haven’t seen you around much?’ she says.
‘Yeah, fine thank you. I’ve been here, well in Winchester but not in this spot here for a bit.’
‘No but good to see you again…that song…oh, it’s lovely. Brings back memories of Paris.’
‘Right, yeah. When was the last time you were there?’
‘Oh…two years ago, some-ink like that.’
‘Yeah, I love Paris. I mean, I know it’s not like it was in the Fifties or Sixties or whatever. You know how people go on about that sort of thing?’
‘Naw, it’s not, is it? It’s shit now.’
‘Well, it’s like everywhere else, like Rome or any of these big cities in Europe, with millions of people about…and I’m one of them!’
‘Yeah, bloody tourists!’
Ukranian busker Pasha (oddly beardless) comes by at the end – I’ve done an hour and a half and the market stall vans are starting to line up. I tell him about the flute bloke – ‘Yeah, he’s pretty good’ says Pasha.
‘Is he? I can never tell what he’s playing. Does he actually do any songs?’
‘I don’t know. He just plays around with chords, improvises.’
‘Yeah, meaning he’s not actually playing anything!’
‘Well…no, not really!’
Pasha wants me to try out his 50th (or 60th) anniversary Telecaster which he produces from its hard case. I plug it in and do a bit of La Vie but it’s much quieter than my Faith. I unplug it and hand it back to him ‘yeah, very nice Pasha.’ He asks if he can have a go on my guitar so I hand it over and he plays a few chords which sound nice – he’s a good player. ‘It’s so hard to play – I’m not used to a 12-string’ he hands it back. ‘The action, it’s too high for me, I’d have to take the bridge off, file it down a bit, file down the nut grooves, you know?’
‘Yeah, I’ve been through all that with my luthier mate. I can’t get it any lower or it starts to buzz. I mean, the high A buzzes, anyway, and any lower it’s too low. I’ve got other 12-strings with lower action but this one sounds better and it’s got a pickup and tuner, which is really good.’
‘Yeah’ Pasha says, ‘it’s a compromise.’
‘Yeah, like Les Paul said “the world’s a compromise and the guitar’s part of it”! Anyway, you done for the day?’
‘Don’t know…the other day I’d done two, three hours and I was tired but I went and sat on the bench up the road, near the Buttercross, you know, and I started singing and all these people gave me money! I couldn’t believe it so I might do that.’
‘Well there you go. Maybe it’s the lazy sound (he pulls a face)…not lazy! But maybe you sounded relaxed or laid back, you know, and it was a good sound.’
‘Ha, yeah, maybe.’
I did another ten minutes but a van pulled up in front of me so that was that. £22.17 for an hour and forty minutes. Fine.