Bank #2 - 18th October 2014
The author Anaïs Nin said, "We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are.": I left the house feeling despairing about life in general and anticipated that today's session would be depressing and disappointing - which, indeed, it was.
I know that Bank #2 is no longer a 'good' pitch - especially at weekends for some reason, because the type of people who walk through the station have changed: Last year I did really well here, but in the past six months or so I've been lucky to make £12 for two hours worth of work and don't book to play here unless all of my favourite pitches have already been taken.
Even at midday when the weekend was just hotting up, people just marched past. A sweet little Asian boy watched me for a few seconds and then some trendy young girl made fun of my fiddle playing by doing a stupid 'Irish dancing' impression. Sick and tired of wasting my valuable time and energy, I packed up and left after an hour and 20 minutes.
Wherever I walked in London after that, I got jostled and barged into by people everywhere. I just wanted to go home to bed because I knew that my dream of re-locating to Paris for at least a year is never going to come true because I'm always flat broke.
Oxford Circus #2 - 19th October 2014
I fought myself out of a very dark place to extricate myself from Tigger (my cat) and my bed, this morning, to play violin here at 8 am and I'm glad I did (after a member of staff who was supposed to be on duty at the ticket barriers grumbled at me for interrupting his coffee-making so I could be let through to earn some money)?!
A dark-skinned little boy in bright red dungarees (he reminded me of the girl in the red dress in the film, Schindler's List) gave me some money and his mum told me that he likes the violin. Then a tall, balding Asian man (who must have seen me playing here before, I think), walked past twice and waved at me both times. I also experimented with some alternative endings to tunes.
Green Park #1 - 19th October 2014
As I was sat on a bench in Green Park waiting to start my second performance of the day, I was struck down by a terrible migraine which came out of the blue. I don't know what I was thinking, but tardigradously, and with some headache tablets on board, I arrived at the pitch to play.
I took over from an accordionist who showed me his sore, indented wrist: Knowing that I now play accordion on the Underground, he warned me to stick to the violin because the accordion is physically too difficult. "I'm a double bassist and bearing the weight of an accordion is nothing compared to dragging a double bass around Paris," I thought. He then handed me the curl of a silver earring he'd found on the floor, which I tucked into the compartment in my violin case where I keep my other 'good luck' trinkets.
There was a ferocious wind blowing through the corridor which made me nauseous, and so I left for home, proud of the fact that I'd managed to earn my keep for the week despite feeling like death.