No Strings Attached

A year ago I started writing about a busking trip I took in Europe (mostly Spain) in 2003, starting in Barcelona, then down to Valencia, a trip up to Toulouse, and some time in Madrid. This will be the next book I put out. I’m now on chapter 19, probably 80% of the way through. Here’s a little preview.

“My stay at the hostel includes a daily voucher for breakfast at the café outside. They don’t serve tea; I don’t suppose there’s anywhere in the city that does. Normally, I don’t feel myself until I’ve had a couple of cups, but I don’t particularly want to feel like myself here. I’m exploring new possibilities.

I sit with a coffee and croissant watching morning unfold in the bright sunlight, which hasn’t reached this corner yet. People come and go, making deliveries, washing windows and sweeping doorways; getting busy before the day heats up. Palm trees with spindly trunks shoot forty or fifty feet into the air, clearing the surrounding roofs. In the centre, people sit on the edge of an elegant fountain, a convenient resting point. It’s almost eleven now, and there is a smattering of diners taking brunch at the rows of tables along the arcades, where the eateries are located.

I contemplate my strategy. In the UK, I mostly busk on the street, which entails standing in one place on the pavement and hoping you can impress the public as they pass by. Here, I’ll be able to do more of a show. I decide to work my way round the square, playing to three tables at a time, from about ten feet away. I’ll perform three songs, then take my hat round before moving along to the next three tables. This is going to be interesting.”

Copyright Tom George