The cobbled streets and misty feel give this shot a Victorian look — except perhaps for the Rolex and No Entry signs. But we can ignore them. Would the Victorians have engaged in this much paranoia? Who knows. But Brendan — see his guitar case — doesn’t seem to care, and I’m all for that.
An empty stage, with a performance presumably to take place shortly — whether the gathered audience are in the mood for it or not on a Sunday lunchtime.
Buskers have been around longer than most professions. We used to call them minstrels, but the whole singing for one’s supper thing is much the same as it was in the time of King Arthur. Fishmongers have been around for a while too.
This is a rare photowhack — the only photo taken today.
Some parts of the old Berlin Wall remain in the city. Probably they could have been demolished back in 1990 but the authorities realised — correctly — that they were valuable as memorials and/or tourist attractions. Or, as in the case of the East Side Gallery, which runs beside the Spree for about a kilometer near the Ostbahnhof, an art installation; this long line of concrete has been decorated by a range of murals, including this one of Soviet dissident Andrei Sakharov, who seems to disdain the busker beside him, playing as he is on a load of old water pipes, or something.
There he was, playing the theme from The Godfather. And happy with it. I make this only the second busker to appear on the blog.
Perhaps I could have got a photo to mark Joe’s birthday, 12 years old today. Never mind, let’s mark it anyway.
So his sign said. I’m not sure whether that makes one more likely to give him any money or not, however.
Anyway – enough of Brisbane! Nice as it is, I’m a bit bored of the place. I’m off to Byron Bay for the weekend.
Beautiful day today, a proper spring Sunday. Lots of activity in the town square, including this busker and then there’s the kid on the right auditioning for his part in the local version of We Need To Talk About Kevin. All fairly normal for Hebden Bridge.
Being 42 