No one kicked a traffic cone at me.

So I did it.

I went with my banjo, I went busking.

I spent the first couple of hours in an open space but with a fair few people walking past. A kind bunch threw some money at me and I felt pretty good about everything. I could take a sigh of relief, I was doing well. I was on fire.
however I soon realised I was on fire because I hadn’t applied any sun cream. I had a quick break and drank a whole lot of water.

I spent another hour outside the indoor market with lots of people walking past. Of those who didn’t throw money, they did throw me smiles which was just lovely. I was completely relaxed and as I played with the sun beating down on my little head, I realised that I could have done it much sooner. I don’t know why I didn’t. People stopped for a chat, children stopped and danced and a busker even through some money in and said something nice as he walked past. I could do this more often, and ’tis the season to go busking as they say…

A big thank you to my family and friends for being just swell and supporting me. You’re all a bunch of top bananas on the top tree of the tallest mountain.

Playlist is in update mode this evening and I will be back out there tomorrow as long as I’m not too burnt when I wake up 🙂

Thanks again!

Face your fears live your dreams.

Since the end of June I have been on my summer holidays from Spain. Which is fantastic, although it sounds a bit backwards. Working on foreign soils gives you a chance to treat home as a holiday even if there are thunderstorms. Sometimes you just have to embrace the climate differences as ‘exotic’.

So far I have been visiting friends and family, reading a tremendous amount of books and going running despite currently having problems with both of my knees. This means I can only run sometimes. I have faced one problem that I never had before, no one else is having their summer holidays. All my friends are working which makes me feel terrible and incredibly lucky at the same time. This has led to me yearning for a project or goal to work at, towards or on. Also this weekend, I had the misfortune of having a traffic cone kicked at my already injured knee by a complete stranger (thanks for that) so running is no longer a viable option.

One of these is writing more poetry ( which I have done in my notebook and some will find their way onto the internet). The second is something which I am inexplicably afraid of. Now for many years I have been a musician, I have played gigs, open mics, and played for friends and strangers alike in various situations. I have no problem with any of these. But I am absolutely terrified of busking. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s the scene from ‘Once’ where Glen Hansard gets his guitar case nicked and has to chase the man while his guitar dangles around his neck. I don’t know why but it’s driving me mad. So while I am back in the UK, I will go busking. I’m going to practise this afternoon and hopefully if we get another stonker of a day tomorrow the I will hit the sunny streets of Bristol to play my banjo for passers by.

This is my declaration of my intention to become a busker. I have been busking before but I wasn’t comfortable, therefore I hope I can overcome this and sing as I would for friends, or in a gig environment. There we are, it’s in the public sphere so I now have to do it. If you see me then come and say hi. If you have any tips then send them my way. I don’t know anybody else who has or has had this problem so I’m just going to go for it. I may fail but I will continue to try. As they say, ‘Where there’s a Will there’s a way’ and my cousin is called Will so that’s probably a good sign.

Hell is hot ( and so is the sun)

A day in hell
Is really hot,
So take some veg
And take a lot,
You can cook a roast,
In a minute or two,
So take some friends
And cook a few.

A day on the sun,
Is rather warm,
It’s one huge, great, big,
Fire storm,
So go up there,
If you have the cash,
But you will become,
A gust of ash.

Hot dogs.

If you think of nothing else,
On a hot summer’s day,
Perhaps eating a hot dog,
Will make it go away.

If the thought comes creeping back,
Like an uncontrollable itch,
Eat a ketchupped sausagey treat,
To turn off the hunger switch.

Now three times might seem silly,
But it can happen to some,
Eat just one more hot dog,
And your dinner will be done.

Some may call you greedy,
Ridonkulous or obscene,
But if they do, then say to them,
‘No I’m not, I’m ME!’

The pigeon in the window.

‘How much is that pigeon in the window?’
‘It’s not mine, but I’ll catch it for a fiver.’
‘Deal’.

There once was a man called Fitch,
Who thought five pounds would make him rich,
He tried to catch birds,
With glue and some curds,
But his allergies made him itch.

The end.