Of A First Boat Trip This Year

 Several months ago my son came to visit. He doesn't come to see me very often, so it was rather lovely. Even better was that he had decided to come and have a look at what needs doing to the boat to get the engine through a service. I'd much prefer to give him the money for doing a job for which he is qualified than someone else. Unfortunately, months later he still has the engine handbook and the service is still to be carried out. He did say one thing which I found helpful though. He spelled out for me what the smoke means. The white smoke apparently means the engine is not getting sufficient air to aid combustion. That gave me a clue as to how to tackle a problem. Several years ago I fancied that oil was spitting out of an air intake. The oil spillage was certainly coming from somewhere in the vicinity, so it was worth a go! I had a spare filter which I screwed on to the inlet. I wondered if this had become clogged with oil and was not drawing sufficient air. A not very close inspection suggested that that was indeed what was happening. The filter had collapsed and looked like a face that had been sucking a lemon. I removed the filter and fired up the engine. After a couple of minutes this particular smoke problem was solved. I determined to clean up the oil instead, until I can find where it is actually coming from. As it happens, it is not a huge problem despite being a cosmetically irritating one.

With the boat now in reasonable working order I decided to take it out and see what happened. 

I headed towards a parish mooring a few miles away where I met up with musicians Steve O'Kane and Fiona McBain. We spent a lovely hour or so together and the boat behaved impeccably. Hmm, time to plan a few days away.

Of A Sad Goodbye & A Feel Better Treat

Tuesday was a very sad day. I said goodbye to a friend of nearly fifty years. We were best friends at college and have remained so over all these decades. She never made it to her threescore and ten. Our music teaching careers may have taken different paths, but we both maintained the passion for communicating the joys of engaging with music with children and adults. Beatrice was a force of nature. Her sisters were happy, proud and exasperated to tell us how she had been a "wild child". It was quite something to meet them after all this time too. I was very, very happy to meet the daughter of her late husband. Beatrice was always talking about her (they were very close in age) We met Beatrice's future husband for the first time together when we studied music at college. He was one of our tutors. I had actually known of Peter Jenkyns for a lot longer than that, though, since he was a published composer of children's songs and I had sung his "Little Spanish Town" when I was still in junior school. I also remember taking part in a music festival, though I can't remember whether or not our school choir sang "Little Spanish Town", but Peter was one of the adjudicators. Sadly Peter died decades ago. His was the first humanist remembrance service I attended. Over the years Beatrice and I supported each other through some very dark times. Somehow we managed to laugh at anything, no matter how serious. Someone I spoke to at Bea's funeral observed she had the dirtiest cackle in the world. It's true, although that cackle brought me so much joy. Bea had been ill for years. By last July it was clear that her time was becoming short and we hadn't been able to see each other since the covid outbreak and subsequent restrictions well over a year earlier. I wrote about taking her a living room performance and I shall always treasure that experience.

The funeral was attended by two, or maybe three, hundred people. What a testament to a life so beautifully lived. It was an outdoor humanist service and her wicker casket was lowered into the earth in a wooded glade. So perfect. So apt. There was not a dry eye among the mourners when one of Bea's sisters played Fairport Convention's "Who Knows Where The Time Goes?" over the sound system. Farewell Farewell.

This is so Beatrice!

I've been working on a new song to remember her by. I don't know that I'll ever get it right, but I'm going to try.

I couldn't bear the thought of driving straight home so I went into St Neots and set up my rig in the main street to sing my blues away. As always it was a very calming experience. I also met Punky Ian who told me quite a lot of stuff about the universe and what it has in store for us ... who knows where the time goes?

Of A Bookshop Busk

I enjoyed a long busking session yesterday in Downham Market. I was outside the West Norfolk Deaf Association Bookshop for three hours in celebration of its fifth anniversary since opening. Normally completely solo I shared the day with John Preston, Yve Mary B and a man called Stuart. It is one of my favourite busking places and the people in the bookshop are always incredibly friendly. It also happens to be a very well-stocked bookshop and I recommend a visit to any visitors to the town. It was also, for a few very wonderful months, a monthly venue for musical performances. Unfortunately circumstances saw that period forced to come to an end.

There always turn out to be more people passing by this spot than one might expect and yesterday was certainly no exception judging by the tips. Of course, many people wanted to donate to the WNDA, but several were also generous in tipping individual performers. One man sticks out in my mind. He stopped for a while during one of John's songs and decided we needed to be lectured on how to perform for the public in the street. He said he had been observing us from a shop across the road, but I think he just made that up. Apparently we ought to have been raising spirits or moving people to action in the face of the problems facing the citizenry. It being my turn to sing next I sang "Obstacle Race", which he acknowledged was an upswing in the mood. He went on to cite the failure of the Brexit project as an example of how we should be addressing ourselves to doing something positive. I would have sung my "Referendum Rag" to him, but he'd had enough and went to fix other problems around the town. It was John's turn to sing a song, so I lost the moment, but after that I sang it anyway.

Of Further Busking Adventures - Part Nine (Downham Market)

Today was a busking adventure of a slightly different kind. No.8, The Old Bookshop, was celebrating its fifth anniversary and had invited some local musicians along to play outside the shop. Since this was not on land owned by the town council I did not need to get prior permission, just turn up and play, which I did. I thought I was last on the list which began with someone called Stuart, continued with a set from the rather excellent Yve Mary B. John Preston and I turned up at the same time, so we played a song each taking turns until he had to go and I just carried on. I ended up playing for about three hours which was rather a lot of fun. As is usually the case in Downham Market, friends turn up out and listen for a bit before moving on. John sang his songs acknowledging our increasingly barmy world in his characteristically apocalyptic baritone. His guitar playing is somewhat idiosyncratic. One has often encountered bass players who ruin their playing by trying to play like guitarists. John is quite the opposite. He plays guitar like a bass player and has just added a small amp and some effects too. It is by no means the sound of his four-piece band, but it is an engaging and interesting style. 

After one of his songs a man approached who happened to be one of those experts who always have ideas about what one should have done instead. "You should sing more upbeat songs. I've been listening from across the street and you are too gloomy. No one will give you any money. People want to be cheered up, not driven to suicide!"

That was, of course, very rude of him, but he felt entitled to pronounce his judgement. He may have been listening from across the street, but I don't think he could have been listening for long because he did not seem to have registered that I was the singer of the previous song and my style is very different from John's. I don't think he had listened to John's lyrics either, because they are often double-edged and very witty. As I was waiting for him to finish he decided that we should be using our talents to write about the important stuff, like the effect of leaving the European Union. Given that most people in the town voted to leave the EU one might have assumed he was also a leaver, but it turned out he was in favour of remaining. I'd have treated him to my "Referendum Rag", but he'd had enough and wandered off.

The sun carried on shining.

Of Further Busking Adventures - Part Seven (Spalding)

Once again I have to apologise for months of inactivity on here. It has been very eventful. If I remember correctly I left Part Six having just had a TIA in Norwich. As a result of that experience I spent a couple of days in hospital and had a a few mostly inconclusive tests. I was also grounded for a month and wasn't allowed to drive. Of course that means no more busking either.

When I recovered from that and was strong enough to load up the van with the instruments I revisited old haunts and managed to get back into the busking habit again. It was indeed great fun. It has been a long time and so much has happened, but I'll just add a few mostly shorter essays in order to try and catch up. 

Today I went back to Spalding and met some of the lovely people there on their "Pumpkin Day" The town was very busy and, despite the continued worries about the Covid pandemic and its latest mutation, families were out in force. Several people came up to talk and the citizens were incredibly generous.

I have been mostly in writing mode this week - blog essays and a new song under way - so I’ve not made time for busking since last Saturday. However today the weather was so beautiful I really had to go and perform somewhere, didn’t I? I had promised myself I’d go back to Spalding after my last visit there, so today was that day. As before, the people were lovely! I used to go when the tulip carnival happened, but today was apparently pumpkin day. There were so many smiling faces, the market was throbbing with families and there were so many stalls it took me a while to find a spot where I could set up. I found the doorway of a closed-down shop and used that to spread out from. The only other street entertainment, apart from amplified Adèle being pumped through a sound system by a local rock school, was a Morris side. So many people wanted to stop, listen and thank me for my music. So many children wanted to dance. Some Poles and Latvians wanted to have photographs taken with me, and that was like being in Venice. Spalding really is a rather splendid place. 

Thank you Spalding! I'll be back 😎

Of A Return To Spalding

 I have been mostly in writing mode this week - blog essays and a new song under way - so I’ve not made time for busking since last Saturday. However today the weather was so beautiful I really had to go and perform somewhere, didn’t I? I promised myself I’d go back to Spalding after my last visit there, so today was that day. As before, the people were lovely! I used to go when the tulip carnival happened, but today was apparently pumpkin day. There were so many smiling faces, the market was throbbing with families and there were so many stalls it took me a while to find a spot where I could set up. I found the doorway of a closed-down shop and used that to spread out from. The only other street entertainment was a Morris side apart from amplified Adèle being pumped through a sound system by a local rock school. So many people wanted to stop, listen and thank me for my music. So many children wanted to dance. Some Poles and Latvians wanted to have photographs taken with me, and that was like being in Venice. Spalding really is a rather splendid place. Thank you Spalding!

Of Thoughts On Busking

I have explained the story of why I turned to busking in my mid-sixties as a source of income this year. For a while I didn't realise that there were rules, laws and Byelaws that govern the work of the street performer. During my first couple of weeks I simply went out, set up and played. Most of those sessions went off without a hitch. I only discovered that rules existed after receiving two "yellow cards". The rules can be complicated and they vary a lot between towns. On a nearby Borough Council website there are rules that specifically mention the main town, but there are two other towns in the Borough and they don't get a mention. What the Borough Council has left out of the website information is that each town council has its own set of rules and byelaws. I've been stopped from busking in the other two towns. In one, busking is limited to market days, a Friday and a Saturday, permission must be sought and granted for each performance and a copy of one's Public Liability Insurance must be lodged with the town council. In the other, busking is prohibited in or near the Bandstand or along the seafront. The main town centre does not limit performance places, but maximum time in any one spot is limited to one hour. In another town outside this area I went to County Council, District Council and Town Council offices all within the same town and could not find anyone to give me any sensible or helpful information. I ended up setting up in a good spot in the pedestrianised town centre and talking to one of the "town centre wardens" who was actually most helpful and accommodating.

Thinking further afield some places require a prospective busker to fill in an application form in advance and agree that town's code for street performers. Some of these want a photograph and a registered name and address. Some want to see a YouTube video as part of the application process. Some require the performer to wear an official badge. Some require the performer to carry a copy of their PLI. All of this assumes that busking performances are planned sufficiently in advance of the proposed visit and take no account of health, weather or other personal challenges to going out on a specific day.  Some councils allow the sale of personal merchandise while others forbid it. Some only allow it with the purchase of a trading licence. Remembering whether performances are unlimited in time or limited to two-hours, one hour or half-an-hour and how long should be left before being able to return to a particular spot (sometimes an hour, sometimes not on the same day) can be confusing. Some towns specify and limit busking spots, some require a spot to be booked in advance while others say set up anywhere, but be prepared to move on if requested by a business owner. Some allow amplification while others don't. Most say that if amplification is being used it should not interfere with other activities. Some specify a minimum distance between different acts, some specify not to set up within earshot. Some say that once the hour or two-hours are up, a busker should be willing to surrender the spot to another waiting performer. Some claim to have devised their rules to avoid the danger of busker wars breaking out. That may be a possibility in a city housing a large and concentrated population, but I have never seen such a thing. Since setting out on this path most other buskers I have encountered have been very supportive and considerate of each other. The only problem I have encountered was with the "karaoke soprano", who probably wasn't aware of how loud she was.

Some towns make a point of selling themselves as welcoming of street performers. Some of these have a reasonable, laissez-faire attitude to performance expecting performers to manage amongst themselves according to some unwritten "Busker's Code". Many acknowledge that street performance contributes something important to the ambience of a town by adding colour and joy. Some places ban performance altogether and any attempt to flout such a rule is very heavily "policed" by private security companies. One often needs to be able to distinguish between municipal precincts or privately owned ones. The rules allowing performing in either kind of space are not always clear, although a private space is more likely to display a prohibition notice if they don't want buskers.

I suppose this chaos of rules and the insignificance with which most people regard street performances mean there is less likelihood of national law becoming the norm and setting the precedent, so it will remain incredibly confusing, specially to the newcomer. There is, thankfully, no such thing as a "busker's licence" although there are private security firms that appear to think one is needed. Most of this confusion I am learning to negotiate ... mostly requiring a quick trawl through a council website. However, there is an attitude I find difficult to deal with and that is where the rules are there simply because someone thought they were a good idea for "keeping the peace" whatever that may mean.

As noted in previous essays I have been prevented from working for eighteen months. All my work was cancelled with the first lockdown. Fortunately I live frugally and decided not to avail myself of any of the funding available to others while I had some savings that would keep me going. However, busking is not a high-reward activity. I count it a win if I earn back what it costs me to park the van, but I rarely reach the hourly 'living wage'. The best I have managed was a late in the day decision to drive to a town fifty minutes away and play for seventy-five minutes one Monday. I took £35.32 but that included giving a CD to someone who gave me a very generous tip. The parking fee was £2.00. That is very much the exception and I would say I usually expect to manage about £5.00 an hour. Among the poorest examples over the past months are:

• one day of busking (required to move on every thirty minutes with no return to the same spot that day) - no cd sales allowed, earnings from tips £15.35, parking fees £10.00;
• half day of busking - tips £6.33, parking £5.00
• half day of busking - tips £0.00, parking £4.00
• on the day of my medical emergency I played for about an hour and earned £6.02 in tips, with parking at £6.00

Some people, thankfully not a noticeable majority, equate busking with begging. Clearly I am going to disagree with this point of view. I have worked hard to develop my playing skills over several decades and a song can take me weeks or months to write, compose, learn and rehearse. I earn nothing from creating my music until I am able to perform it or sell a recording. I have yet to recover my costs of recording from sales. It could happen at some point in the future, I suppose, but it hasn't happened yet. I do not consider sharing my music, the fruits of my labour, in the street to be begging. I am offering my skills to people who choose whether or not they like it enough to offer me a tip. I understand why a local council might choose to regulate the sales of merchandise. However, buying a trading licence at many times the cost of a cd, when a single sale during a day's busking is definitely not a given, is throwing away my hard-earned cash. By selling my own CDs I am unlikely to be depriving a trader of their sales. My recordings are not available through traditional distribution networks so they never reach the shops. Of course, these days, the majority of smaller towns don't even have what we grew up calling a "record shop". The banning of CD merchandise is often simply a mean-spirited response from a local council that likes to generate rules. To put this in context, in my first twenty-five days of busking I sold four CDs. With sales like that, I am unlikely to put anyone out of business apart from myself!

I am a self employed sole-trader, who keeps good records of income and expenditure. I am scrupulous in declaring my income and pay all my taxes. I don't like dealing with forms and record keeping so I employ an accountant to deal with making sure my records are in order each year. I do, however, find I resent greatly having to go cap in hand to a local authority begging for a spot to perform, a place to carry out my work. I resent even more that they can decide on which days I am allowed to work when, for example one council only gives permission to busk on a Friday or a Saturday. How is one expected to earn during the rest of the week? I suppose there's always the dole or universal credit ... oh wait 😠

I feel another campaign coming on.