ANTWERPEN, BUSKERS PARADISE.

INSPIRATIONAL EPISODES #4.

N.B. ….. No you didn’t miss #s 1,2 & 3 - they were all on the Kingstown Boathouse.

PROLOGUE :- Bavaria 1980. A clear balmy day, the Rose of the Heavens smiling and benign, casting her pleasure on the gentle winds that drifted over those rolling fields all along the B2. Upon this ribbon a feelgood breeze carried a cyclist southwards, his feet somersalting pedals below piston knees, he sang “doode doody dodu, aaaha. dubbi dodoh yahya” Scraps of rhyme blooming into words, stanzas, taking form, shapeshifting. Pulling into a quarried layby, extracting writing materials the thing transformed from audible to visible, the forerunner of more things to sing.

"I'm a travelling man, yay a travelling man,
An I do what I can, wherever I am,

I'm a travellin, trahavellin, terravolin, oh man.

Feller offered me, a job one day, but , I loved his wife an lost my pay,
Then I rollin stoned off on my way,

Aah man, ahm a lovin man, lovin where oh ever I can,

Got a change of clothes, an a sleeping sack,
most o' what Ah owns, rides on my back,
The road donates anything Ah lack,

Cos I am, for sure, a wanderin, ponderin, oho a travelin man,

There's a lot of bars, downlong the coast, an Eye knows each n'every host,
Guess as my high, bin drunk in most,

Cos harm a drinkin man, hic s'what are am, beer ana dram, oh damn,

Ain't got me know reglar girl, reglar girl she gimme hell,
Anyroads I prefer, to see the worl'

Worl's biggest fan, this travelerleeeeenohoho man, 

When Ah finds me, a nice small town,
Jes fer a while, Ahl stick aroun,
Sometimes think to settle down,
S'when they'll put me underdeground,

Y'know Y'know, Ahs gotta gogo gogo go
Aye a wanderin, squanderin, ponderin alongagin,
Travatravatrava, Travalin, unravelina javelin,
One day I'll come around, agin,

Oh we both know, jes what I am." 

INTERIM :- So, back on the bike and off to Salzburg, where you have to have employment to rent a room. Worked for the lousiest pay ever as an unqualified chef in a fake Mexican kitchen - breakfast 4+hrs and evening 9+hrs, 8 days a week. Two 5 hr breaks. Afternoons spent cycling the mountain - 3 hrs up, 25 minutes down, exhilarating. UNTIL...... A double parked car beyond a blind bend..... AAAAAGH !! Upper arm 3 breaks, half my ribs bust, shoulder ball pulverized, months in plaster, no insurance, no job, no money. Left the bike at my digs until whenever, hitch-hiked to Manchester for Xmas. Therapy was gonna be tough - 18+ months. Nuts to that, figured a supertough regime would fix me faster. 2nd January, hitched to the Hebrides to pick shellfish. A twelve mile over wild terrain to the nearest shop. Five months permanently cold and wet, sea and rain - I got fit - and made good money at it too. My final week, four young Nederlanders walked into my camp. We fished, swam and laughed a lot. "Come visit us" they said. I did. One lived in Antwerpen, Belgium. I arrived late evening, only to discover he was studying mushrooms in the Brazilian jungle. Oops, needed a crashpad. Walked to the city centre, found a bar full of buskers. Ergo crashpad sorted. I hired the kitchen, fed the buskers, they taught me to play guitar, to sing my poetry. Met a girl, from just across the Dutch border, broke my rule, stayed nearly 6 years. We have a son, who eventually presented me with Grandchildren. So I returned to watch them grow, while I sit and write my stories, including those of such Inspirational Episodes that have shapeshifted this t'Otherwith Boy. Here we go....... ANTWERPEN :- Buskers are usually travelling men, a few are travelling women. A kind of Modern Hunter-Gatherer… There is a tendency to build a circuit, some places you go more often. Antwerpen is like that, turns you into a yoyo, back then the city had a community of yoyos. "Hey man, where y'from ? wanna beer ? whaddaya play ? Looking for a crashpad ? Welcome to Antwerpen. There I was 11pm that night in the Billekletser Cafe (Billen= buttock, Kletsen= small talk). Sat with Tommy Yates and Sonja, he was a Yorkie, like me, she a local girl. Couple o’beers n’off to Het Musiek Doos (Music Tin / Can). Irish on a reefer in the street, we made it a joint venture, Everybody’s stash is everybody’s stash in the Lowlands low.

Tommy on stage, sweetest guitaring I ever heard. Sonja bottled the crowd, enough for more beer, and tomorrow's lunch. "Wow Tommy, y'got some talent" Tommy gets angry "Bollocks talent, 25 years hard work !" I sold earrings, slept on their couch for a week. Found a flat, holes in the walls where the weather came to visit. Cathedral Bells woke me Every Sunday at 7am, just as I was drifting to slumberworld. No restriction then on cafe hours. 24/7 drinking. Play & bottle, play and drink, play and smoke, keel over and play again. Play the cafes when it's dark or raining. Play the streets or terraces when the sunshines bright. Jugglers, magicians, living statues. And the cops. Leave you alone if you had a crowd. Hustle you if you didn't. Free bed for the night you if you argued. Deport you now and then, no sweat - do an Arnie "I'll be back." 

Selling my earrings……

Sometimes a stranger would walk into the Billy kitchen, cook a meal for friends. I asked Luc, the owner if I could cook for the buskers. There was enough over for a second night. Luc offered to rent me the kitchen. Cooked for the tourists who paid, and for the musicians who showed me how to finger the chords. In between the music, two of the gang would walk outside, then one would walk back in, give someone the nod. He’d walk out and the other would return. Nobody played Bogart, but we kept the Billy and the Doos clean.

Every day it seemed a new instrument breezed in. I had a six room crashpad for travelling troubadours. there’d be maybe a hundred passing through the way station every year. Some found a girl, stayed a while, or yoyo’d. Some returned bringing a girl with ‘em, meet the gang. Scouse Mick brought a florist from Driffield. Gentleman John Brought Geraldine from Bristol. Scots Andy brought three. Welsh Gareth brought a supermodel from Fishguard. Hannah came on her own, frequently. Bonnie arrived and got glued to the scene a spell. We all fell for her Music, Robin fell for her spell, wrote her a love song……

“American superstar, how lovely you are,
You shine so clear and bright, heavens above me,
And oh, you're a woman of feeling,
And oh, you're an angel of light,
Those boys, y'got 'em Rocking and a Reeling, 
In the Old World tonight." 

Tommy had taught Robin to play years earlier, back in Blighty. They stayed in touch, then Robin came for a visit. He's the only one of us who is still there... Recently won Belgium's Blind Auditions / The Voice.......   Have a happy listen......

Those years in and around Antwerpen taught me so much. The CREATIVITY, joy and madness. The love, inspiration and introspection. The Catharsis. This was the most prolific time of my life, writing songs and poetry, producing simple works of art. I also wrote about my DESTRUCTIVE experiences fighting in desert warfare. “To protect British Interests” they said, without specifically stating “To protect Oil Industry shareholders incomes”. I know which of these two lives I prefer. Peace, Maurice.

NeXt UPDATE ON LIBRE LIBRIS COMING SOON. Books and Artprints.

NeXt HEAL OUR WORLD, Sun 10th Mar. T.B.A.

NeXt t’OTHERWITH TALE, Weds 13th Mar. A Uniformed Sort of Madness.

NeXt TALE OF TWO FAMILIES, Weds 20th Mar. A Shipwrecked Sailor from France.

Thankyou for your interest, for being here. See You on the Boulevard, Maurice.