omhoge - we have corroborative evidence for your theory, but not strongly so. This was a British Bank Holiday weekend, an event which also attracts bad weather.
It rained continuously from our setting off to arriving home. Tents these days are built using kite technology - lightweight flexible spars lending structure to a thin skin of nylon. It would not surprise me a bit if one could attach a string to a tent and fly it in a decent breeze. We pitched ours in a windswept field. It was mad fun!
(I just found this (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9hH3EtfKWo) on YouTube.)
The organisers did not have any particular Plan B for if the busker could not play outside. As it turned out, they did not particularly need a Plan B as there was only one option anyway. There was a DJ playing downstairs.
So I played in the box office - fortunately it did not have protective glass, just open arches above the counter. Having negotiated the burly bouncers the audience would enter via a short corridor, passing by the box office as they turned 180 degrees to go down the stairs to the bar and main performance area. The space in the box office was the width of a bar stool. I filled it with two, one for my amp, one for my effects. My theremin occupied the entrance, just peeking over a half-height door or gate, and I stood behind it, in the cloakroom. The place was dark and dingy. I wore a black t-shirt with a white theremin logo on it and a pair of violet mirrored wraparounds.
Doing my best to be an animatronic diorama in a Museum of the Weird.
Which is how it felt.
I kind of sprang to life when the next batch of cold, wet, thirsty people came in, headed for the bar, with its warmth, seats and drinks. Trying something different each time to see if there was anything that would distract them from their goal. A few, momentarily. In the circumstances I consider that a success.
Still, it would have been nice to play outside and draw an audience.
As the show was starting my family turned up from the rather nice Italian meal that had occupied them, eager to return to the tent and play backgammon on a printed beach towel - it was an over 18 venue, so we could not stay. I packed up and slipped downstairs in time to see Sarah play the first few bars of the Donna Summer number I Feel Love. I would have liked to hear all of it, but I waited until she had found her intonation, and then I felt I could go.