Poor Billy Morrison

He sits in the market bar every other night playing his guitar (and bloody well too), but does he know that we sit and listen and call him a legend? Are the bandages on his fingers the result of some circulatory disease brought about slowly by years of drink and the elevation of his hand to work the fretboard? Does the music mean so much to him that he battles through the pain? Does he play the blues because it sounds nice or because he has no choice?

I found myself being gripped by melancholy tonight watching him work between thirsty gulps of his pints (Didn't phrase that too well. I should explain I wasn't drinking his drink. That would be the final insult.)