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  • Outside the Palace, the man had set his own stage, a pile of umbrellas as set dressing in the pool of light thrown by the theatre doorway, and a single flipper on one of his bare feet. There he cavorted and tossed the brolly in his hand watching it tumble ungraciously out of his grip to the floor and then hampered by the flipper would go shuffle-flap to retrieve it only to cavort again.

    He wasn’t singing, and it wasn’t raining, and it wasn’t really clear why he was doing it as he didn’t seem to be either busking for money or selling umbrellas. It certainly was a show though, of sorts. And I kind of liked the chutzpah that would make someone stand outside one of the largest most expensive theatres in theatreland and do their own thing.
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