Today was the last time I’d be able to busk locally for a while, so I went into Wisbech for my fourth day of busking this week. I parked the van in one of the free, unlimited time car parks. I don’t normally use this one since it’s further to wheel the trolley of instruments and my trolley is more strong-willed than any one might find in any supermarket. I locked the van and was about to set off when I was stopped by someone who wanted to know where I got my “costume”. “This isn’t a costume, these are my clothes,” I pointed out and I mentioned that I bought them from Groovy Sue's market stall in Downham Market. As I started to amble my way out of the car park towards the town centre a man caught up and started chatting. By the time we’d got to the top of Post Office Lane we’d discussed, among some quite personal stories from his life, what I was doing, what sorts of music we like to listen to, relative health concerns and he told me about his job. He owns a business straightening out the chassis of vehicles that have been involved in road accidents. I wish I’d met him in July! At the parting of the ways we stood and chatted for several more minutes. With incredible generosity he opened his wallet and pulled out a tenner insisting I put that into the hat to sweeten the pot and show an example to other people! Of course I gave him a cd in return since he’d not heard me play a note. He was also the third person this week who wanted to suggest ways I could earn better money than by busking. I’m fascinated by this notion, which I suppose is a throwback to times when street entertainers were thought of as little more than beggars. What I love most about busking is that I get to meet so many cool people. Some of them don’t realise quite how lovely they are. Some are going through tough times and want to talk. I value greatly these encounters. Of course I am there to play my music and sing my songs, but sometimes busking feels like therapy - perhaps for all of us. I thanked him for his suggestion and pointed out that I like playing in the street not only for the reason already stated, but also because I’m not working to anyone else’s schedule or their agenda. I’m doing this because it’s what I want to do and I love it. Of course, sometimes an offer of a festival gig or a house concert comes through someone seeing me playing in the street and I generally enjoy those too.
As I wheeled my way through the town market place my busking friend, Alex, was already at his post and had been for a couple of hours. We greeted each other and he asked where I was going to be. He’d come and see me when he’d finished. True to his word he turned up later. Quite by chance I happened to be singing, “Damn You, Enchiladas”, which he says is his favourite.
When I’d finished my set and was packing away I was approached by a polite and shy young teenager, “Excuse me,” he said very quietly, “I hope you don’t mind, but I really like your outfit.” Sixty-seven years old and cool. Can life get any better?
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