From beneath the neat, narrow brimmed, grey trilby smiled a handsome face with kind eyes which betrayed a weariness, suggesting that life had not been easy. His dark, weathered complexion indicated eastern European origin. Two days without shaving had resulted in a thin covering of white stubble that seemed to glow in the sunlight. His grey, pinstripe jacket, worn over a diamond pattern woollen cardigan, had once been half of a smart suit. When he jammed the violin against his chin, the full picture of gypsy folk musician was complete. The music he played may well have been a Romanian traditional dance.
I dropped a pound into his violin case and showed him my camera – asking with my eyes and facial expression if I could take his photo. He understood immediately and, still smiling, nodded his permission without losing any timing.
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