Life sometimes tosses us unexpected gifts. My tale began one night as I slept, while my dear friend whispered questions to which I murmured answers in my dreams.
She once asked, What would you most wanta Bentley or some other grand motorcar? All I mumbled back was, A saxophone. The next morning, she told me, and that small, seemingly insignificant midnight exchange altered my life forever.
I had always adored Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones; rock music was my passion. Yet the guitar never quite felt like *mine*. Music mattered, but the instrument had to be one that could truly carry my soul. So I thoughtwhy not a saxophone? It seemed sudden, yet impossibly right.
From then, everything shifted. I took up the sax, attended masterclasses, studied at the Royal Academy. Music became my true calling. Over the years, I was fortunate enough to play alongside artists like Eric Broadley and James Taylor. These encounters taught me music isnt just technique or toolsits a language, one understood by all.
Yet these past few years, Ive spent my days on the streets of London, playing for passersby. Now, Im one of the last buskers left in England. Once, street performances brought decent earningspeople stopped, listened, tossed a few quid into my case. These days, most hurry past as if Im invisible. Still, it wont break me. I play on, because music *is* life itself.
At 72, I still step out with my saxophone, even when the chill drops to two degrees. It seems mad, but I feel harmonythe music fuels me, and the fleeting listeners, those who pause even for a moment, give me reason to continue. Every note, every breath drawn through the brass is a piece of my soul passed along, even if they never realise.
Musicespecially the saxtaught me patience, discipline, honesty. Busking strips away the stage, the spotlightsits just you, the instrument, and the citys hum. In that simplicity lies something rare: a true, unfiltered connection. It reminds me that musics purpose isnt applause or accolades, but the power to touch hearts, to halt lifes rush for just a beat.
I often think back to that night, half-asleep, whispering saxophone. Whod have thought one drowsy word could rewrite a life? It unveiled a path, made me a musician, gifted me countless joys and encounters with extraordinary souls.
Perhaps life isnt about what you own, but what you *do*. Sometimes answers arrive unexpectedlythrough dreams, small signs, people who just *know*. My saxophone story is one of passion, endurance, and how its never too late to follow a calling.
And though the world changes, though people notice less, music remains. It unites, heals, inspires. Im grateful to still play, to step onto the pavement even in the cold, and glimpse the faintest spark of magic in a strangers glance. Because music *is* lifeand as long as I can breathe notes through this brass, I am alive, brimming with energy and joy.
