Hardship

Dear Diary,

Awakened unto a gloriously sunny summers day, Maxy Waxy went into town to meet Gulliver the fiddler. A friendly cellist was there talking to him, we all agreed that the band that had set up were very average sounding. These old boys played "What shall we do with a drunken sailor?", very loudly amplified. The moment the 'banjo player' picked up his instrument he played duelling banjos: telling us his worth, which was zero. They then played Old Joe Clark, very ropey. As Gulliver said, if you play that tune you had better have some balls. They are all crap. They also put the cello player and us out of business. The beggar in the alley had also stopped us from making any money. Life is so hard at the moment. I am starving, wasting away slowly.

Even so, we played extremely well at the café. The pay is about a tenner a week, and they fed us, twice. I get this food, and that is what I live on, all week. It is so tough being me, beggars, amplified very average musicians, they are the bane of my life. I don't care, once I get my degree I want to be an AL or a Don, even if I have to go to the Middle-East to do it. It doesn't matter. Being a history teacher there is better than wasting away as a musician here.

We met up with the artist's artist M.T. yesterday, went swimming and spent the tenner on booze. It was like a dream, good friends, great times. M.T. has done a painting of me, it is incredible.

Max.