Now we are a month in, it is time to get organised.
I have dedicated the desk in my living room to The Butter Mouse. The only remaining items on the surface are my laptop, the pack of cards, his book, and a lamp. A cork board fresh from the packet hangs on the wall above. Any thoughts and thematic memorabilia will get a place. A small print out of a unicorn is already attached with a pin. Over time this will grow into a collage that provides constant inspiration. A fitting shrine for the year.
To find initial ideas I searched online for all of the variations of ‘Butter Mouse Clifton’, ‘Butter mouse Bristol’, ‘street performer Bristol’. I shook the internet, and turned it upside down. But no luck.
So the next additions to my board are my own piecemeal memories. I write these on post it notes, and arrange them in a square.
Alongside Princess Victoria street, I remember him setting up his table in Victoria Park, near the gap where the path joins the grass. He had a neat line of packs of cards, all covered in wavy symbols. I suppose I have my own set now.
This is only hazy, but there was a time on the Downs where a group of people sat around him in a rough circle. His arms blurred, and three red and yellow balls were in constant motion. Everyone smiled. Maybe it was a kids party. Maybe he was that charismatic.
Something in a hall. I cannot remember where. A Christmas fete, or summer one. Indoors either way. A girl whose age was still in single digits, with ginger hair and a stripy dress, used a teaspoon to flick paint onto cards hanging from a washing line. Her parents laughed. Later on a chubby kid with glasses brushed past me clutching a paint spattered card. God I want one of those..
The last memory is strong, and I definitely clutched a comic in my right hand when it happened. There is a mini roundabout near Christ Church, and I spied The Butter Mouse walking across the painted centre. He wore his brown suit, and slung over his arm was a bag of food. The golden elbow of a baguette poked out of the top, hard to get in those days. Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his body lacked its usual bouncing rhythm. But he was still the Butter Mouse.
That is all I can remember for now. More will come. My board will grow. But we need to press on.
I had a lot of fun with the exercise this month. You can find out what you need to do next time .
