The battle of the buskers

We’re 23 days into January, and already I’ve completed my scheduled 84.7 miles. In retrospect it wasn’t hard, but without an achievable target I wouldn’t have done it. There’s been a number of days (particularly cold, wet or icy days) where the one thing that’s got me out on my bike is my schedule – the schedule is king and must be obeyed! The question now is whether I set a new target or just keep going with the one I’ve got. 100 miles a month should be easily within reach – current projection is 115, so maybe I should aim for 120?

Stats for January (to date): 18 days active, 5 inactive, 86.71 miles riden. Most miles in a day 9.82, most in a week 29.59. Daily average 3.77 miles. The main aim of the target was to get me in the habit of cycling regularly, and that’s definitely been achieved so far.

One thing I saw today really quite annoyed me. There’s usually a couple of buskers in town on Saturday, and one regular is a kid of about 14 with a guitar who plays outside Boot’s. He’s not amazingly good but he’s not egregiously bad either, he brightens one’s day and I’m sure in a few years he’ll be a much better musician for the time spent, and I admire him having the guts to play in public. Today he was there, playing away quite merrily while another busker was setting up directly opposite. 

Now I’ve never seen this other guy before, who was in his fifties with a rather prosperous looking hat. When I came back here was this interloper, complete with amplifier and a colleague playing a drum, totally drowning out the poor lad with a noise that was could be heard throughout the town centre. I don’t like noisy buskers, the kind you can still hear when you’re inside shops, and this poor kid was looking rather pissed off – who could blame him? At one point the twat in the hat stopped playing for a while and the kid started up only to be drowned out mid-song by the amplified arsehole opposite. It really was the wrong side of enough. I gave the kid a pound and told him to stick with it. Judging from the contents of his guitar case, I wasn’t the only one who sympathised.

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