It was all a bit of a busk man’s holiday

TWO guitars, three harmonicas, ten sore fingers… and had there been a pear tree in the vicinity, then there might also have been a festive partridge, too.

The thing about busking, and something I’d almost forgotten, is what a vast array of humanity emerges once you start to stroke the silver strings.

There was the chap who had retired the day before, who told me that I’d not only made his weekend, but also musically signalled a wonderful start to his much-anticipated third age of leisure. Thank you, sir. Praise indeed. I’m honoured.

At the other end of scale – pun intended – there was the chap who turned down my offer of playing a number chosen from a whole host of genres, saying that he “didn’t like music”.

Didn’t like music? All right, I won’t play anything at all if you’re uncertain about what might issue forth, but hang on – you say you don’t like music, meaning ALL forms of music, regardless? Maybe this was a wind-up.

I pressed him further. Yes, he was adamant that composed sounds held no attraction for him whatsoever. Not a single iota, sliver or shred of doubt lingered in his mind.

“Sorry, yes, that’s right. I don’t like any music. Just don’t like it. It’s simply not my thing. Sorry.”

So, how does that work, I wondered. You’ve never been moved, sedated, excited, thrilled, chilled, never wanted to boogie til dawn or smooch in the moonlight with someone, courtesy of a collection of sound waves called music? Amazing.

I looked at his girlfriend. Her face gave nothing away. You can’t win ‘em all.

Nevertheless, this was just a tiny snapshot of an enjoyable day spent raising funds to help cash-strapped Script Haven, the café bookshop that has had such a dramatic and positive effect on Worcester’s art scene over the last 18 months.

Poetry and book readings, signings, music nights, talks… plus hot drinks and a large range of books to browse. Such a literary oasis at the top of High Street opposite the Elgar statue. It would be a shame - nay, a tragedy - if it had to close, yes?

This was the second of my ‘buskathons’, day-long events to pull in the pounds to help keep the shop afloat. I thoroughly enjoyed every single minute but nevertheless had to pace myself. I’m not getting any younger. Or wiser, come to think of it.

There again, I’d only otherwise be stuck at home strumming, blowing and generally driving my wife insane. So, you could say it was a bit of a busk man’s holiday for me.

In between guitar numbers, I played some harmonica-only accompanied blues items, interspersed with Christmas carols, mainly to take the pressure off my finger ends.

Yes, I’ve had calluses from playing for decades, but even so, six solid hours do take their toll.

Another interesting encounter was the woman who asked me to play Felice Navidad. Sorry, madam, not possible, I'm afraid - I don’t speak Spanish. Just English and schoolboy French and German.

That should do it, I thought. But she was not deterred in the slightest. In fact it made it worse.

“All right,” she honked, “do Tannenbaum instead, then. You say you speak German!”

Ah, I didn’t think quickly enough here, because that happens to be the same tune as The Red Flag, which I actually can play on the old gob iron.

But I forgot about that. So did a medley of Once in Royal David’s City, Silent Night and Jingle Bells. You might say I had Noel of a time. And the woman seemed happy enough, even if I hadn’t learned to speak fluent Espagnol in two minutes.

The main part of the day comprised numbers I’ve known for years. Blues and folk, classic jazz numbers like Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out, and old rock and pop material from the days when I regularly stood in front of the shimmering curtains at the back of countless working men’s club stages.

Oh yes. There are indeed advantages to having nothing beyond 1964 in one’s repertoire.

Anyway, a few hours later, as I reflected on the day, sprawled on the living room couch nursing a large glass of red, my thoughts lingered on a few of the day’s major highlights.

Several lots of kind words and compliments, the Felice Navidad woman of course, the chap who’d started his retirement the day before… and the man who didn’t like music. Any music.

All human life was there. And I wouldn't have had it any other way, would I?