Scenes from the city: Homeless musician

There’s a faint drizzle falling on a grey day.

Opposite the art gallery is a park. Verdant grass, proud trees, clumps of flowers in well-cared-for beds. There are deep basalt steps leading to a paved bluestone terrace and a large granite pedestal upon which sits a statue commemorating King Edward VII.

It’s a life-size bronze of Queen Victoria’s eldest son in the full dress uniform of a British field marshal astride a horse, baton in hand and battle sword by his side. A king who loved drinking, gambling and his many mistresses. A king for the people.

In the shadow of the statue, huddled against drizzling rain is a homeless musician. His meagre belongings stuffed into four dirty bags. His battered guitar case is open and he is trying to tune a worn-out guitar.

Humming to himself as he plucks at the strings, twists the tuning pegs. Notes are slipping between his fingers as the rain continues to fall.