In every city around the world we see street performers of every kind.
This week Michael asks us to weave a tale that involves a street performer.
It has always amazed me the amount of raw talent that is out there on our streets undiscovered and unappreciated.
Many a time we’ve stopped to listen to buskers or a single performer, putting a few coppers in their hat and on one occasion purchasing their CD.
I’ve been known to dance in the street too with consequences, and also to sing along with the backing tape of old favourites from yesteryear.
There were a regular band of Wailing Willies in the subway close to where I worked in the bank. They never played as a group, just occupied that particular spot as the acoustics were so good. Sometime it enhanced their talent, others it massacred, but they still warbled on regardless and ever hopeful.
Several times when we visited Spalding, there was one old boy playing a guitar outside a pub. He didn’t sing, in fact we wondered if he could, but his musical talent was out of this world, and judging by the contents of his cap, passers-by wished he was on another planet.
He just strummed. No chords, no distinguishable notes or melody, no movement of fingers on the fret bar , just those of the other hand strumming to produce the most tuneless noise I have ever heard.
But he was a character. Some people would buy him a pint then engage him in conversation, and not being able to multi-task, he would stop his rendition of whatever he thought he was playing, and talk.
Maybe that was all he wanted. A lonely old man with nothing much to do, not much more in the way of talent, who just wanted company.