“Blessed are the Children…”

It takes a lot of optimism (or lunacy) to get on my bike early morning and cycle 8 miles to go busking in -1c. The ice on the roads has not thawed in the early morning sun, and I always imagine my front tire being slip-out in front of me on black ice.

When I get to Carlisle I find my busking spot has been taken by a young lad who obviously has a shorter distance to travel than me. He is a singer/guitarist, and although good, he is loud, no amplifier for him! I turn by bike around and go to my other spot.

This 2nd spot is taken by a homeless boy who is asleep on the pavement. His arms and legs are sprawled out; even though he is in a sleeping bag he has managed to take up more than half the pavement. The people walk around him, leaving him to his sweet dreams!

This view reminds me of the war in Syria for some reason. When I see the bombed houses and people being pulled from the rubble I notice the way the public always rush with broken bodies in their arms to the ambulances. The scene of the homeless boy reminds me of this because “no one is lifting this boy to safety”. There are no ambulances to take him away, no place of rehabilitation. It reminds me of how war can make people come together, were as peace can divide us. I do not grudge him his sleep, I move on into the centre of town.

In the centre of town there is the Salvation Army Band playing Christmas carols. I can not play in the area “Humbug…humbug”. I don’t know why but each year I am reminded more of the books by Charles Dickens, Dickensian Britain I call it. It would not surprise me to see children begging next year, or Scrooge shuffling along disappearing down the back-streets with his I-phone in his hand.

That is where I am heading, down back alleys to find my final spot for busking; if that is taken then it has been a wasted journey. To my surprise it is empty. Normally another singer/guitarist stands there, he has been there for years and I have given up going there for that reason. He gets there early and stays there all day. There are only a few spots to play without amplification, and if they are taken there is no chance to play.

I set up, it is cold; I am not sitting in the sun, and my hands freeze first, so I put my fingerless-gloves on. I play on and I finally loose myself in the music, I do not notice the people or the surroundings. I warm up and the world stops spinning.

After a while I notice I am invisible, or it feels like that. People walk past me, oblivious to me or the music, I hear them but they do not hear me. There is no recognition I am there. Maybe it is all a dream and I am not playing in the freezing cold, maybe I am still in bed asleep? I think of the homeless boy and I wonder am I similar to him?

Then I see life, and I know it is life as someone acknowledges me, I am not an illusion. Life, (she) skips along the pavement, each skip in time with my melody’s rhythm. Later on I see 2 others skipping along too, I do exist, it is not a dream!

The skippers are children aged between 7 to 10 I would say, and they acknowledge things that their parents have forgotten. Again, I am reminded of Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Present. It is like I am looking at things past, unable to interact, just an observer.

Over the years children have been an excellent audience. They all have individual characters but they also have a “type”. First, there is the Shy Type, they stand back, they look scared, and they are shy to put their parent’s money in the box. When they approach me they freeze and go rigid, their parents have to come and take their hands and help them to approach me, and some children are so frightened they start to cry or hide their faces in their parent’s coat. Often the money stays in their hands and they have to be led away.

Another type is the Less Shy, they are given money by their parents and they come over and drop the money in the box, they smile or they look amazed at the instrument, they skip off, or show their love of music in some way. They are happy and they enjoy the moment. These are the majority of children, as I think the children love live music if it is not too loud. There has been one exception to this as I remember one child holding her ears and crying with fear on her face…she was in her own world then I think.

The third type of child is the Confident Child. They have a mental age of 30 in 10 year old body. They are totally independent. They have a will of their own and are financially savvy; they have sussed the world out already. I have seen them, walking behind their parents, until they are in front of me, they stop and open their purse and drop a coin in, they smile and walk off with an air of superiority. They do this as they know what they like and what they do not like. They do this because they can.

For all the “types” of children, they are in their own universe, sometimes it is a good universe sometimes it is a bad one, but they are a joy to observe. And it is nice to be observed too.

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