So I'd just picked all the pound coins and 50p pieces out and put them in my coat pocket and I was scooping the remaining shrapnel up when I saw the shadow of an outstretched hand over the case and I thought 'No fucking way mate.' and I looked up and stated "What?" to the hairy short bloke in front of me. "It's not much." He said with £3.50 in his hand. 'No fucking way mate.'. He was after something, he was lightly swaying and he was holding the money in a manner that suggested he'd rather spend it on beer than give it to me. I could identify with him because that's exactly how I felt about the cash in my hand, so I put it in my coat chest.
Case empty of money, bow in case, violin still out on the pavement resting on shammy leather, roisin crushed under foot because I balanced it on the edge of the case and it fell off and I didn't notice then someone trod on it. They're going to have lovely smelling shoe soles for a bit. I picked banger (My great grandads' fiddle.) up and tucked him under my arm.
"Mate, I'm done busking now and I've made enough so I'm not really after your cash."
"OK. I'm just after a go on your fiddle."
I made an assessment. He was swaying slightly, his chin was down, but his eyes were up and he had lovely delicate fingers. He was a bit hairy, but in the right places and his hands were dirty, but that happens when you're next to main roads for long periods of time and it's not like my fiddle and bow are surgical instruments.
"Put this shammy leather on your shoulder and rest the bum end of the fiddle on it lightly." I handed him banger neck first into his left hand. He rested the fiddle lightly on his shoulder in the manner of this bloke:
So I tightened my bow up, dusted it with roisin and put it into his right hand. Eventually, with a little suggestion, he balanced it using his thumb as a fulcrum and proceeded to play the instrument about 5mm away from the strings in the air.
"My violin teacher at school said my chin was too small to play the violin" He said and I said "Your violin teacher must have been a right wanker then, take your fingers off the strings and put the bow on them just in front of the bridge."
"Yes, now move it perpendicular to the strings and remember to stick your elbow out." Both elbows out he played the fiddle. He had the right pressure, but he was scared to move the bow too quickly in case he damaged the violin and I was like "That hung on a kitchen wall for 40 years gathering airborn grease, the only way you'll damage it is by smoking too close to it."
So he increased the pressure but not the velocity, so I shut up for a bit because I was distracting him. I lit a rolly up.
He came up to me yesterday with an acoustic guitar slung infront of him inside a shoulder bag in the manner of this bloke:
He's bought a snazzy new hat from the proceeds. Wolfy.