Wallingford and the petal flutterer

It was an epic Wallingford Bunkfest this year. It’s always amongst the best events of the year but this one was special.  The weather wasn’t perfect but only one Saturday show and film night curtailed, with Sunday turning warm and kind thus allowing people to forget the tempestuous Saturday night. Huge crowds as ever, generous hats and all my extended family in attendance. We all jigged on Saturday night to the compelling and infectious Demon Barbers on the main stage as the rain pelted down.  Their dancers were superb bringing ‘some of the UK’s most exciting young Clog, Sword, Hip Hop & Break dancers onto the concert stage to create the live folk music & dance spectacular of the year.’ Certainly was.

And just as their show finished, as if it wasn’t wet enough, the rains really came down in a torrential storm and a wonderful divine exclamation mark of a lightning flash and roll of thunder finished it all off.  In the lorry soon afterwards there were twelve drenched mammals (two of them four legged ones) sharing towels, tea and laughter and a fire to dry everyone and everything off. A splendid night was enjoyed by all.

The hoverboard really came into its own there this year, as it had at Havenstreet. The lawn-like Kinecroft (the central green in this lovely old town once providing free animal grazing for its medieval inhabitants and preserved today as a community resource) and its criss-cross paths made perfect surfaces for it. I used the hoverboard for shopping into town, for water collection and for breakfast sorties. What a relief for old battered knees.  All you do is think and lean and it takes you there.  I try to imagine myself as a twelve-year-old thinking about this strange and addictive form of transport.  It would have seemed like magic. I always had a fascination for carts and bikes of all sorts, inventing and making soap box carts from old prams with string pulled steering systems.  I’ve always tinkered with bikes and, later, cars. Travelling has always fascinated me and the hoverboard continues the fascination.  Put me down for a driverless car, a personal jet backpack or a Star trek Transporter.

At Wallingford, old friends of all ages venture onto the Kinecroft during the setup and it is wonderful to catch up on their news and see the warmth with which I am held there.  It’s a very special place and my shade will always wander there.

My good friends Ralph and Helen were well and as ever.  Ralph had finished a wonderful prop for the show, with his imaginative expertise with all things electronic.  I have spoken of a new 1914-18 war tribute, using Noel Coward’s evocative ‘I’ll see you again’.  Ralph has created a device which can only be described as a petal flutterer.  It is a device which automatically flutters red (poppy) petals down in front of the moon and back drop on the stage at the end of the routine.  It works completely by remote control too.  I have a little button in my pocket and it just happens.  Genius.

The rest of the routine has been suggested by my good friend and brother in exile, Greg Chapman of Condensed Histories. Google him. Greg worked on the stage alongside during the Isle of Wight Steam Show and we (just about) managed to pass juggle fire clubs during the third show of the day as a climax to the fire routine.  Greg suggested a moving idea which I will work on during the winter for the first part of the 1941-18 tribute routine. Watch this space, but I am hoping it will be rather different from most of the other routines.

So all in all a lovely end to the summer season.  With a few back end fairs left before autumn really sets in, there’s still time for the new routines to become bedded in and some good ideas to work on in winter.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Life-changing happenings

I have previously had one life-changing happening.  I was in my late twenties and at that time lived in Commer Walkthrough lorry with a wonderful Perkins 4203 diesel engine.  It was before my days of trailers and loads of props. I was parked up for the winter close to a pub in Suffolk which was let to some friends of mine and I was using an upstairs room to rehearse.  (Something I remember doing more of when I was young).  I was sitting in the bar enjoying a quiet evening pint when a man rushed into the pub and told me my lorry was on fire.  I quickly reassured him that I had a wood burner inside it and the smoke was from that. ‘I think it’s more serious than that,’ was his terse reply.

The Commer was a raging conflagration by the time I rushed out to it.  Nothing could be done to save it apart from call the fire brigade and watch the spectacle with a terrible sense that my life had just changed irrevocably.  By the time the brigade arrived my home had gone, along with everything I owned apart from the clothes I stood in and the few props I had been rehearsing with.

The following day with a horrific hangover from the whisky I had been plied with I sifted through the charred remains.  The ironies of fire leftovers must be legion across the history of humanity.  For me, a book ‘How to Repair and Restore Practically Anything’, a porcelain ocherina charred from it’s third firing, blackened but still playable. And my birth certificate, slightly singed but readable and which I kept for years until it was eventually lost by VOSA.  That same afternoon the pitiful remains were towed away to the scrap yard, leaving a burnt patch on the ground which was almost immediately covered by the first fall of Suffolk snow that year.  It was time to move on. Which is what I did, to Edinburgh and another major chapter of my life.

It was exactly the same sense that my life would never be the same again which hit me hard in the abdomen as I came out of my lorry yesterday to discover my theatre trailer had been stolen.  I cannot describe the process and the physical pain I went through as I desperately looked around in the various places in the vicinity it might have been moved to, all of course without any sense of logic or possibility.  It was gone.  My theatre, my life, all my props and costumes, everything I do, gone forever.

What one does at these moments is significant.  I had no sense of what to do.  I phoned Hilary who is always there for me at these desperate times and of course she said calmly that I should report the theft immediately to the police.  I was half way through the call (I was later told off for dialing 999 rather than 101) but to me it was an emergency.  I had the feeling that squads of Police cars, Batman and Superman should be deployed without delay and the felon might be caught fleeing down the motorway with my life hitched on the back of a battered white transit van.

So half way through the call my neighbour at the yard, a quietly-spoken sanguine joiner and maker of replacement windows said he had seen the trailer being hooked up not half an hour previously by a man with a black Suburu pickup.  He also said the man had nodded to him and hadn’t looked as though he was doing anything wrong.

The penny dropped. The clang was one of such gigantic proportion the sound could probably have travelled miles had the penny been real. The effect on me was palpable. I doubled up with the pain of relief.  I apologised to the police for the wasted call and immediately phoned my trailer service agent who twice before had picked up the trailer from my yard for its annual service.  Yes they had picked up the trailer this morning.  An apparent misunderstanding in their office had led to them collecting it.  I had spoken to them the day before and told them I would be bringing it myself but the message had been misunderstood.  I phoned Hilary again to admit my stupidity.

The memory of those few minutes will stay with me a long time.  Yes of course I will change my habits of security (I admit to being far too trusting of my fellow humans).  But more than that, I will try to detach myself from things in general (as we must all do sooner or later) and remember that when the chips are down it’s the people we turn to who matter far more than the things to which we attach ourselves.

And the show will now go on.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Hello Lincoln, Goodbye Monmouth

As the summer season draws to a close at the start of the back end fairs I can look back at 2016’s gigs. The weather has been a bit unkind to me this summer.  I haven’t had a single gig with no rain, although Shrewsbury Flower Show came close. But despite that the season has been enjoyable and challenging.  Just how I like it really. 

I’ve learned finally that two separate bookings in one weekend is now impossible for me, which has been a lesson I should have learned some time ago.  The Witney/Southwell Racecourse weekend in July was very uncomfortable and meant I couldn’t spend as much time as I would have liked with my friend Pedro at our annual meeting in Witney. 

It was almost as difficult going from Monmouth’s one day show last week to the Isle of Wight.  The rain started towards the end of the pack down at Monmouth which delayed my planned exit from the showground by fifteen minutes and I was convinced I wouldn’t make the last ferry.  I arrived at Portsmouth as they were loading it and they let me on, but it was a very close thing.  The poor dogs were crossing their legs as we hadn’t stopped at all and they had been inside for most of the damp pack up too.  However we arrived at Havenstreet in time for last orders at the beer tent and a lovely welcome from the folk there. The dogs could have a well-earned walk somewhere they have come to know well.  The reorganisation of the rally field has meant the stage is more visible and after some jiggling with sound levels between me and the arena it was all good.  The stage now faces the afternoon sun which means the audiences aren’t squinting and I have great natural lighting.  Four days of great shows and good attendances.  It’s one of my favourite places.

It will be the last Monmouth Show I can attend though as they have decided to move it from and August Thursday to the first Saturday of July and I couldn’t let Hollowell Steam down.  It is a one day affair too, and I am trying not to take on any more of those.  Shows come and go though and it is great now to have started at Lincoln.  I played there twice this summer, the first at the Castle and then at the Museum of Linconshire Life, an attractive and free-to-enter museum in an old barracks.  Lots to see there and despite a first day of bad weather the second was warm and allowed the organisers to see the stage.  Small but very appreciative audiences.  I got to know the city a little and it is well worth a visit, the cathedral and the castle being wonderfully imposing and the little narrow streets full of interesting shops.  Before visiting Lincoln I assumed it was very flat, but was surprised to find it is built on steep hills.  In fact there is one street which is called Steep Hill and it certainly lives up to its name with helpful handrails to ease the climb and descent.

I took advantage of the flat tarmac of the barracks at Lincoln to hone my hoverboard skills and I am now reasonably confident I can manage over most surfaces, bumps and curbs.  The great thing about it is the saving of my poor over-worn knees as travelling on it only involves standing and leaning slightly one way or the other.  I would thoroughly recommend it as a form of travel for older people though I’m not sure they will take up my suggestion as they seem to be the envy of the young and probably the occasional early fall as you master it might put most older people off.  I have made the box that hides the board for the Toulouse Lautrec walkabout character and my wonderful scene painter friend will paint it to look like a paint-spattered trunk on which the diminutive artist will stand.  Watch this space for developments.  I now need to find a suitable costume, wig and hat for him.

Verity emerged briefly one more time at Havenstreet, but I still need the courage to come out in her more often, if that's the right expression. I also need a dresser to do up the costume but I think that may just be an excuse....

And so to Wallingford, the first and favourite of the back end fairs. Next week’s blog and I will almost be caught up…

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Shrewsbury seguay sensation

Shrewsbury Flower Show has seen the flowering of a new mode of travelling life for Mr Alexander.  I’ve blogged about the hoverboard/seguay/electric skateboard previously and my walkabout burlesque character Verity who inspired its original inclusion has come out at a couple of venues this summer, but it has not been until Shrewsbury that the device itself has really come into its own.  I love it.  I’ve spent a lot of time practising on a range of surfaces and now feel very comfortable on it.  Not without a few bad falls initially but that’s only to be expected. It is so wonderful to use, quiet, easy and fast and personal energy saving, and even more significantly saving on knee use. And my poor knees do suffer from all I expect them to do. Local travelling around a show site will certainly never be the same again.  It is controllable, safe and wonderfully economical and eco-friendly. It also provides a small additional height so provides a kind of mobile stage, on hand, or rather feet, at any time. I have been using the off-road version for floating around the showground and travelling into town and the smaller wheel version for onstage experimentation.  I can ride to the shops or for a drink and carry it inside without anyone even noticing and it hides under the table until I leave.  (Yes I’ve had the occasional beer this year.  Nothing too dramatic but an occasional pint or two. It’s nice to be back in the pub.)

I am going to spend some time choreographing a dance using the smaller board on the stage to Noel Coward’s moving and emotional  ‘I’ll see you again’.  It emerged as these things do with the computer on shuffle play.  I think I need a prop that will work with the floating quality of the movement the board allows. And maybe a story.  Perhaps a theme linked to the First World War.  The variety theatre has always been a vehicle for examining war and I came of age with and loved Joan Littlewood’s ‘Oh what a lovely war’.  Noel Coward wrote Bitter Sweet in 1929, but it still has a flavour of the war which had finished eleven years earlier and offers a wonderful possibility for a story.

Anyway the potential for the board is great and I think by Wallingford Bunkfest I will feel confident to use it comfortably in shows as well as between times and I am developing some other characters with elements that hide the board.  I have to avoid overusing it though as I’ve not had so much fun since I learned to unicycle and it’s tempting to try lots of different routines on it.  I’ve managed juggling on it. And bending down keeping the balance on it is interesting, especially when the ball is four inches below the feet and I’m standing on wheels.  The sort of thing I like experimenting with.

The Shrewsbury show was very enjoyable.  It’s not been a great season thus far but this show changed things.  The weather has been pretty dreadful and my state of mind has matched it, but I now feel things are on the up again.  The weather was warm without rain (the first of the season when it hasn’t rained at sometime) and I felt good about things. It’s about time.  Family and friends have kept me on the positive side this season and I will always be grateful to them.

The ‘last show of the day’ has changed.  I feel I am discovering something really positive, different and creative with it.  First show three chairs ‘Showbusiness show’, second two, ‘The Classic’ and the third no chairs.  A silent show.  And a change of costume. Quite a different feel but I am enjoying it with potential for improvisation and experimentation.  It met with approval from the cognoscenti Shrewsbury audience if their generous contribution to my hat is anything to go by.  Apparently I’m ‘quite good, sometimes’. I’ve always said you’re as good as the money in the hat and this weekend has been very pleasing in that regard. I don’t do what I do for the money but there are times when I need money more than others and this year has been and continues to be a difficult one for me financially.

Anyway enough of all that.  Without these challenges life would be far too easy and we couldn’ t have that.  Creativity comes from chaos. The best things in life are hard.  Nothing good ever came easy. Certainly true of the hoverboard.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

Netley to Hinckley to Heckington

It’s all in the location. Not just the style and theme of an event but location can make a huge difference to the success of my contribution.  I have been concerned for a couple of years about my pitch at Netley Marsh Steam Rally and this year it was made considerably more difficult.  I am beside a main ‘road’ leading to and from the main arena and this year was at least a yard closer to it.  This of course resulted in problems for the vehicles coming past my audiences.  At times it felt like perfoming on the M6. At least the organisers this year closed the road for the middle part of the day but it meant the exhibitors had a slightly longer detour to the ring and expressed their dislike in no uncertain terms.  I thought one man would have a heart attack as he lambasted me for having the audacity to prevent his tractor taking the route they had always taken.  His wife even said that if she had children there was no way she would let them watch my show.  It is fascinating how shows bring out all the best and worst of people.  The showground becomes a microcosm of the world as a whole.

The location in Hinckley is as near perfect as I could wish for.  A gently sloping market square with a level patch at the top for the lorry and stage.  Easy access and the sun facing me and not in the audiences’ eyes.  Travelling performers must have occupied this spot for centuries. I love the few town centre gigs I do. Britain’s town centres are in sad and rapid decline due mostly to the ease of out of town shopping and the burgeoning of the superstores.  Towns like Hinckley are becoming ghost towns with mostly charity shops and only the usual national chain stores. The town centre managements who are addressing this issue may be fighting a losing battle but I applaud and support their efforts.  The management of Hinckley Town Centre are brilliant.  Helpful, supportive and imaginative.  The result a sweet stand and good audiences. Hinckley used to be sock central for Britain.  All the sock makers have left town.  I bought a pack of socks from the town’s TK Maxx.  They were made in Taiwan.

And so to Heckington Show in Lincolnshire. This was a new one for me and I had been looking forward to it.  Advertised as the ‘largest Village Show in the country’, it certainly was big.  I was to be part of what is called the Heritage area, and had offered to come for busking money only as it was on my route south from Hinckley, I wasn’t booked that weekend and they wanted to see whether the show would fit into their Victorian theme for 2017.

Maybe because they weren’t paying me, maybe because this year's World War I theme didn’t quite fit what I did, maybe it was the style of the area which was populated mostly by re-enactors and there wasn’t a lot of available space (strangely as there were large open spaces alongside the area), but all in all it was a disappointing stand.  There were other performers on the area who all needed their time slots so I could do no show buildup or wind down.  No improvisation between shows so I just was standing around for much of the time.

The worst aspect was that there were fireworks on the Saturday night and everyone there said it was usually the best display around.  So I made plans to leave in plenty of time with Mimi and Blue.  Heckington has a railway station so we caught the train to the nearest small town Sleaford and enjoyed a meal near the station in a sunny pub garden.  The event organiser had said the fireworks were scheduled for 9.45 and the last train was due back at Heckington at 10.15 so it all seemed good.  When we arrived back at the station and walked into the village the place was deserted.  This was unsettling because if the fireworks had finished the place should have been heaving with the 30,000 people who attend.  I met another dog walking couple who told me the fireworks were late and had not yet started. They were heading home speedily.

This was a nightmare as I was in a strange village late at night with two dogs who become very disturbed by fireworks.  We started walking away from the show site but hadn’t gone very far when the display started.  My two started shaking and fretting and all we could do was hide behind a transit van at the side of the road and sit it out. Horrible for them.  Blue shook so badly I thought she was going to have a fit. When I returned to the show site afterwards my neighbours said the horses in the ring who were there as part of the World War 1 show had been so terrified they had almost broken out of the ring. 

I wont be going back to Heckington.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander