It all started like this.
Friday, May 9
Day off due to a double booking. That won’t happen again.
Saturday, May 10, Yangebup Morning Markets
I jumped out of bed with a spring in my step, feeling fresh. I stepped into a pair of jeans and threw a jacket over a long-sleeve denim shirt. I quickly had a bite to eat and was on my way with the van packed. No need for battery-powered speakers today, as I knew I’d be using my van to power my Bose L1.
I arrived at the park to find no one there. I thought this was strange, as it was in my planner that the markets were here. I rang Jodi to see what was happening. “Oh, hi Hayden, it’s in Thornlie today,” she said. “No worries, I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” I replied and calmly began my journey through the suburbs, arriving with 10 minutes to spare. Jodi waved me in, and I cautiously drove my van through the market, setting up near the public restrooms. The place was already bustling with market-goers as I pulled my van into position. Jodi had the 3×3 gazebo already set up, so I was playing by 8:20 a.m.
The day before, I had created a QR code linked to the Stripe app for on-the-go tipping. I’d gotten the idea from Prita Grealy, a fellow solo artist I came across through social media. This is literally a game-changer—people can use their smartphones to scan the QR code and tip a minimum of $3. It worked very well and saved me from having to stop performing if people wanted to tip virtually.
From my location, I could see the city’s high-rise buildings through the park’s trees. The sun was shining brightly, and the day was shaping up to be a beauty. As I plucked the notes to Stairway to Heaven, I could see people stop and turn their heads toward me, listening curiously. One man, with his dog tied to its leash, stayed for the entire song and the next. As he headed off, he reached into his wallet, unfolded a five-dollar note, and placed it in my tip jar. “Thank you,” I said while strumming the intro to the next song. I had a good earn in the tip jar and a few friends and followers came along for support. Before I knew it, it was time to head home for a quick nap before my next gig at the Exchange Hotel at 5:30 p.m. that evening.
Exchange Hotel, Pinjarra
I arrived to see an artist playing the early time slot, and it was their last set. I trolleyed my equipment to the back of the hotel where the outdoor drinking area was and waited. I checked my phone for emails and updates while sipping water. Soon, the artist performed their last song, packed up, and left. I strummed my first chord at 5:30 p.m. I was happily plunking away when a very intoxicated woman came up close to me and stood there staring. I thought she was going to eat me. She then tried talking to me midway through a song. I couldn’t understand her, so I stopped playing and asked her to sit down. She was right in my face and tried to kiss me. I had to push her away. She became argumentative, and eventually, I lost my patience. She was very annoying. I asked Di, the bar manager, to intervene. “We don’t tolerate that sort of behavior around here,” she said, and the woman was whisked away. I strummed the last chord at 8:30 p.m. and was happy to head home. I slid into bed and soon fell asleep, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
Sunday, May 11, Honeywood Morning Market, Mother’s Day
I jumped out of bed, got dressed, packed the van, and quietly pulled out of the driveway, making my way down the Jarrahdale hill. Thirty minutes later, I arrived to see most of the stallholders already set up. Jodi was there again, and my gazebo was ready to go. I parked close by and ran a power extension lead from my van. With my trusty Bose L1, I commenced playing my first song at 8 a.m. Mother Nature provided another amazing day for the market. The morning sun warmed one side of my body as I sat strumming away. I felt quite hot, so I took off my jacket. The scene of parents, children, and infants wandering through the day was heartwarming. People sat at tables eating food, with smells of coffee, soups, and pizza wafting through the air. Liquid Green was there selling their hemp gummies and oil, so I stocked up and stashed them in my van’s fridge. I then bought a pizza, ate a few slices, and finished playing at 12 p.m. I packed up and headed to my next event for the day.
Pink Duck, Rockingham, Still Mother’s Day
I snagged the prime parking spot right in front of the venue. No need for the trolley, as I was less than 5 meters from the door. I set up and had time to chat with a fellow drinking pints, perched on a stool at the tall tables. The owner of the Pink Duck bought me a pint of beer, so I sipped away, watching the Eagles go down by 2 points against Richmond at the MCG. Perfect timing—as the final siren blew, it was time for me to strum it up just inside the main door. Friends and followers came to see me play, and the usual locals sat and listened.
It was nice spending Mother’s Day doing what I love, but it kept me from spending a special day with my Aunty Ann. It was her 80th birthday, and my Uncle Stephen (Bub) had organized a surprise party for her at her house in Wembley. My mum, sister, brother, nieces, nephews, aunties, uncles, cousins, and relatives from all over were there to celebrate her special day. I was saddened to miss it and shed a happy tear as I looked at photographs on Facebook that family had posted of the party. The smiling faces reassured me that she was happy and had a great day. Happy birthday, Aunty Ann.
That concludes my blog entry. I’ll be back next time.