Rick Ranson

I was having a couple of pints in an east London pub called Moby Dick. I’d had enough beer to start feeling playful. And when it came time to settle up with the impossibly young bar maid I dramatically looked at the five pound note and said:

“Holy smokes! YOUR Queen looks exactly like MY Queen!”

It got a laugh but no free beer.

Keep trying there Ricky.

Timothy Terror is my friend and is a street performer in Covent Gardens in London England.  As Tim was getting prepared for his upcoming act in front of the stone church I glanced at a brass plaque on the side of the church.

Near this spot
Punch’s Puppet show
was
First performed in England
And witnessed by
Samuel Pepys
1662 

I was just so in awe that street buskers have been performing almost continuously on this spot for almost 4 centuries .  All day, as long as there was light street performers have stood here. Through wars, plague, riots, coronations,  bombings, fires, intrigues, and just life, buskers have been captivating audiences right here, right in front of this old Anglican Covent Garden church.

As I was reading the brass plaque a young street busker friend of Tim’s walked over and said:
“I think the church is trying to kick us out.”

 

 

“Before we get into the Safety Meeting proper there is a couple of items I’d like to mention.

“Whoever’s doing it please stop writing shit on other people’s hardhats. Like yesterday at the foreman’s meeting I look up and there’s a huge ‘WEE” written in front of Todd’s name on his hardhat.”

 

 

The door to the construction trailer slammed open. Twenty welders looked up from their lunches. The out of breath Apprentice stood in front of everybody and blurted out his story.

“My generator packed it in. For the last twenty miles I had to follow a semi. If it wasn’t for that semi’s lights I would have never made it into town.

“So I get into town and I can’t stop or I’d stall. So I had to glide right through the stop lights. Well there was this guy in a station wagon and I cut him off. And he starts chasing me. How’d I know he was a cop? All I could see was this guy in a station wagon wearing a windbreaker chasing me.

“So I pulled into my parents driveway with this guy right on my ass. He gets out of his car and starts screaming at me. He was wearing that wind breaker and with his station wagon I didn’t know who he was. So I pop him one, and I told him to calm down.

“Then he tells me he’s a cop! So he takes my licence and registration and I had to go to the cop shop. I had to wake up my parents to drive me.

“I had to answer a whole lot of questions that had nothing to do with any traffic ticket. So I got charged with speeding, dangerous driving, blowing a couple of red lights, not stopping for a cop, punching a cop, and operating a dangerous vehicle.

The young boy looked around the room of twenty welders all silently staring at him.

“SO?” A gravelled voice from the back of the room echoed.

“So that’s why I’m late.”

 

Saturday morning. I opened the door to my daughter’s apartment. I was met with my excited eight-year-old Grandson and thirteen – year old Granddaughter.

James was bursting with important news.

“Guess what Papa! I’m native!”
“Wow!”
“Yeah! Wow! Mommy says that I have a little Ukrainian in me, and a little Irish, but mostly, I’m Native!”
“Wow!”
“What are you Papa?”
“Nobody’s ever asked me that before. Well, I’m English. I’ve got a lot of French in me. And we’re from northern Europe so I guess I got some Viking in me.”
“Wow!”
“Yeah, Wow!”

So my Grandson put his hand in mine (‘Because the cars can’t see me because I’m small’) and we walked across the parking lot into MacDonald’s.

Just so very happy to be us.