THE BUSKER

During the morning I realised there was an unusual sound drifting through the window of my Gable End. I wondered if it was the call of a market seller with the wind in a different direction. But the sound become monotonous and unrelenting. At some point I shut my office window and endured the whish and noise of an electric fan instead.

At lunch time I popped out and determined to find the "singer". It didn't take long. As I walked round the corner a small girl with her grandmother was asking a question about the man. The answer came, "Because he's not very good". I can only assume the little girl was wondering why there was no money in the man's hat.

I give all credit to someone setting up their stall, albeit outside the public conveniences, and singing; something which I could never do, set up my stall nor sing, but then maybe I know it's because I Cannot Sing!