It was Saturday night. The sun had set a few hours before but the Southbank was still bustling and warm from the heat of the first day of spring.
I was performing my last set down by the Hungerford Bridge and there was a crowd building; first in a semi circle around me, then people stood on the bridge above, leaning over the barrier to listen.
I strummed my last chord to a gentle applause when I felt a figure appear next to me, apologetically she said “please, can you play 1,000 Years by Christina Perri?” I nodded and as she walked away she said something else, but I didn’t catch it.
As I started to play the song the couple she had arrived with began to slow dance, she had clearly requested it on their behalf because this song was special to them and I was glad to be giving them such a special moment. More and more of a crowd had began to gather; listening and watching this couple dance. He lead her slowly into the centre of the audience and knelt down on one knee, holding out ring and a smile. The crowd erupted when it happened and she threw back her head, her eyes filled with tears. She nodded and the crowd cheered again.
As for me, I was trying to keep singing 1,000 Years by Christina Perri, without much luck. I was practically sobbing. I love my job.