A Tale of Two Busks

I’ve probably said it before but it’s worth saying again.  Children are a buskers best friend  They have a curiosity and an interest in what’s going on around them that fades with many as they get used to the work, eat, sleep, buy stuff at the weekend routine of being a ‘grown up’.  Buskers are often the first experience that kids have with art in a live situation.  They don’t judge by ‘what’s cool’ and openly show appreciation. 

The Market Tent and  Brian blowing

This weekend, after the ravages of ‘ex-hurricane’ Ophelia and with the imminent arrival of storm Brian, I wondered if I’d get any busking done at all. Since moving to Limerick, the weather has generally not been so good for playing on the street and many planned busking sessions had to be called off - or at least cut short.

I’d heard that they allowed busking at Limerick’s Milk Market and that Saturday was the really busy day and so, on Friday, I called in to speak with the manager and see if I could get his blessing.  The market is covered by a massive tented roof so rain wouldn’t be a problem and once I had permission, it seemed like a good rainy day option.  I’d even heard that they would occasionally pay buskers to play there.

The manager told me that it would be fine to busk there but not between 10 and 12, as that’s when the paid musicians are expected to play.  The market opens from 8am till 2pm and he suggested I either play between 8 and 10 or from 12 to 2.  I surprised myself and went to bed early on Friday night with my alarms set for quite early.  I mistakenly thought that, like Ophelia, Brian would get into full swing in the middle of the day.

Wrong.  I arrived at the market a little before 8 and the storm was raging but the tent stood proud and there was quite a bit of activity so, 8-10 it was going to be and probably the earliest busk I’ve done in Ireland.  I think the next time I go there, it’ll be the 12-2.  I enjoyed playing there and got plenty of approving nods but at the end of my two hours, what was in the pot was less than the minimum hourly wage.  Early morning market shoppers come to get what they want and then leave.  The vast majority either don’t have kids or, if they do, leave them at home.

Kids notice you and then, in many cases, encourage their parents notice too and, if the parent gives the child a euro to drop into my case, I believe the child gets more out of it than if they’d spent it on a doughnut or a fizzy drink.

Eat Your Greens

I had a stroll around the stalls once I’d finished and took a few photographs - it really is a lovely market with a wide variety of food producers coming from miles away as well as quite a few permanently sited cozy cafes.  At one, a cheese and wine coffee shop with really nice paintings on the walls, the owner told me she had a girl coming in on Sunday to play, - ‘And she’s a Yoga teacher so I imagine she’ll be good - not that being a Yoga teacher would have anything to do with her music but… you know what I mean.’  Yes, I think I do.  I told her I would most likely come along and intended to but…

 Say Cheese

Brian fizzled out in the afternoon though not sufficiently for me to do any further busking so I stayed home and did a little online research for my college busking project.

Sunday morning, while it was drizzly, Brian was well past and, having discovered on Saturday night that I’d used almost all of my 15gig data allowance - and only half way through my billing period - I decided to go into college and continue my research on the wifi on campus and  then go to the cafe to hear what Yoga teacher music sounded like.  

My car however had different plans.  It was staying put.  I believe my battery is near the end of it’s life.  Apart from it’s refusals to start the car when I returned from France in September after a few day away and again, after my short trip to Krakow, it’s been starting perfectly and I was really hoping to get a little longer out of it.  Most likely, the drop in temperature in the last week and the fact that it had only had a short run on Saturday, have pointed up it’s weakness and I will have to fork out for a new one this week.

I did get lucky though and in the afternoon, a friend turned up with jump leads.  The rain had stooped too and before I even tried to connect it up and start it, I loaded my guitar into it, figuring that if it did start, it would be good to take it for a drive to charge it up for tomorrow and as I was going to drive somewhere, I might as well do some busking there.

I played for about two hours in Killaloe - outside the supermarket and, while there were not a lot of people around, once again it proved to me that a busker is appreciated far more in places where it’s not something you get every day.  Plenty of families and some stopping to listen.  Even before I opened my case, someone who’d passed by as I arrived called me over and handed my two euro - ‘To get you started.’   I jokingly told him I wasn’t open yet and he gave me a further 50c.

Sometimes, a family pass by and I notice the kids noticing and within a couple of minutes, they arrive back having negotiated a euro from their parents, put it in my case with a triumphant smile.  Today though, something very odd happened and it’s what prompted me to post the weekend’s busking blog.

I’d been busking for about and hour and had noticed a man who had a sort of retired farmer look about him - definitely not a yoga teacher.  He’d passed by and smiled on the way into the supermarket and there was a young boy, I presumed to be his grandson a few feet behind him.  When they came out again, the boy still a little behind the man, they passed by and walked around the corner to the car park but, a minute or so later, the boy, who could have been a ‘small for his age’ nine year old at most but looked more like about seven, came back and put a 10 euro note into my case and as he turned, I told him that he was giving me too much - but guessed that his grandad had given it to him to impress him.  He said nothing but looked a little embarrassed and reluctantly took the copy of my new EP from me.

That’s not totally odd in itself though.  The strange thing is that the boy then went around the corner but then left the car park walking off down the street. It seems I had presumed incorrectly that he was with the old man, who drove out a few minutes later.  For the rest of my busking, which will go some way toward replacing the battery in the car, I imagined a scene with the boy explaining to an irate parent what happened to the rest of their change and was ready to return that tenner, should they arrive looking for it.  They didn’t and the car, which I’d parked up the hill at the back of the car park, in case it needed a rolling start, started without a hiccup.