Sweet and ancient dance band music was tumbling through the doorway of the Oxfam shop and spilling out a little onto Drury Lane this afternoon. Bright and busy, a man in a loud New York accent, a louder jacket and an inexhaustibly affable manner was running the place like an old-fashioned carnival stall. A young couple were browsing menswear and he called over, “Hey, if you can tell me the title of this tune, you win a prize.” Dismissing their blank shrugs, he was already on to me. He saw the saxophone case slung across my shoulder. “Well I bet YOU know what this tune is. There’s a prize!”
“Maybe”, I said. “What’s the prize?” I was fully prepared to withhold information until I had ascertained the quality and suitability of the prize. I was, after all, in a branch of Oxfam, quite literally a repository for stuff that other people have already designated as surplus, and I have Quite Enough Stuff.
“Trust me”, he said.
“Well, it’s Benny Goodman. Stardust”. I hummed quietly along a bit, bobbing my head to the landscape of the melody as it floated over our heads and out towards Holborn. He was delighted, and ostentatiously reached up to the display shelf of little chocolate bars.
“Beside a garden wall, when stars are bright, you are in my arms”.
