Of One Very Cold Day In Downham

 I was in Bury St Edmunds on Tuesday. It was cold. When I left the boat it had been iced in for days. It was still cold on Friday, the day I decided to take the instruments out into the street again. Of course, the usual rules applied. I had to get the go ahead from the town council and I could only go out on a Friday or a Saturday (because the market needs to be on before busking is allowed) or be shut down. Being an arrogant sort I don’t actually ask for permission. Something goes against the grain to be asking for permission to perform a perfectly legal public act of sharing my songs in a performance that so clearly makes people’s days brighter and is, of course, free of charge to the listener. Rather I inform that I intend to busk on a particular day, weather permitting, and trust that it won’t clash with anything the council may have booked. When performing I don’t importune, but I happily accept tips from people who like what they hear well enough to drop coins in the hat. Some people even tip with paper money. I’m not allowed to sell merchandise without a trader’s licence, so I try to have a free gift available as a special thank you to people who tip generously with notes of the realm. I’ve not been challenged on this form of exchange yet. I could set up on land that isn’t owned by the council, but most of the streets are too narrow and it would be counterproductive to be seen blocking the way. I’ve discovered my favorite place is where the shops and the market meet opposite Gregg’s. A lot of people pass by in that pedestrianised area and, on a mild day, people can sit outside Gregg’s or by the mobile food van in the market and listen. Today, though was very cold … cold enough to wear socks *shock *horror. Only the very hardiest sat outside to consume a warming coffee or munch a toastie. Luckily, this is Fen country and Fen folk are a hardy sort. 

A few people I recognised passed by. Some stopped to mardle. Many still asked if my feet weren’t cold. I was pleasantly surprised to see my friend, Karen, turn up with her camera. She takes good photographs and she hung around to do exactly that so kudos to her. She stayed around for most of my ninety-minute set. I realise that my photographs often portray me as being of rather dour demeanour. I’m working on my smiling. I’m amazed that Karen managed to capture this photograph of me looking as though I was enjoying myself and, despite the cold, I was enjoying myself a lot. I did feel the show had to come to a stop when my right hand eventually became too cold to keep hold of my plectrum. I shall be in Downham again before very long. 

Marshlander by Karen Thomas