A Tinnie from my Tin Pan Alley panhandling pally!

On Sunday I made a new friend! Wandering through town, I already taken in multiple cultures in Trafalgar Square where there had been whirling water carriers, Vietnamese water-puppets & West Indian revision of West African dancing. I watered my horse in Soho and was strolling north along Charing Cross Road when I beholded a crowd and a cacophony on Denmark Street (aka the UK Tin Pan Alley)

It was the inaugural Tin Pan Alley festival. They’d put up a stage at one end of this musical street, put a succession of guitar based bands on the stand, and let the public wander in at the other. Which is what I did a bit after six.

In any large crowd of people I always expect to see someone I know and even more so at a free music event in London so I keep an eye out but for an hour I saw no-one I knew and no-one interesting new. But I was right all along, as on leaving a friendly fellow psychology student saw me, and did even better than that when she & her charming partner bought me some beer and potato chips. We passed a pleasant hour or so listening to some variable acts. The Others were good but I can’t remember the names of the others.

When it finished we remained squatted in the street soaking up the atmosphere. A local homeless man swayed into view. Earlier Abbie had told me the tale of a bedraggled man collapsed in a doorway, his brow split open, that this fellow had a pristine white dressing above his left eye identified him as the same & I smiled a hello in his direction.

He wandered over, impressively more drunk than I & merrier too & pressed a can of stella into my hand, an unopened can still quite cold! Having not quite finished my 2nd free beer from Abbie & Kevin I tried to refuse but he was more pleased when at last I relented!

His conversation matched his demeanor; slightly deranged & unsteady but he did endear himself to me even further. He decided that I looked uncannily like a young David Bowie.

Now he’s not the first person to have said that. In fact, he is the fourth. The first & third were former girlfriends who (by coincidence!?) were both huge Bowie fans and remarked regularly on my resemblance during our respective relationships. Much as I am trusting of the fine words of a woman intent on seducing me, it was the second & now fourth testimonies that swung it for me. The second was a drunk & dishevelled Scotsman on a number 25 bus who proved hard to convince that I wasn’t actually Bowie. “Aren’t I a bit young? & why would I be on a no. 25?”
Adding the opinion of my generous new friend only adds to this scientific fact.
(And on the very street where Bowie once camped out.)

I am proud and delighted to be able to say that I am the sort of person that London’s homeless feel the need to give their drinks to.

Incidently, the event was for the homelessness charity Shelter, I hope you join me in supporting them.

About caspar

Caspar is just one monkey among billions. Battering his keyboard without expectations even of peanuts, let alone of aping the Immortal Bard. By day he is an infantologist at Birkbeck Babylab, by night he runs BabyLaughter.net
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