Quintessentially British

Well it has been a while since I put fingers to keyboard.  I’ve just been SO busy.  A couple of days with Cat’s Paw Theatre rehearsing new piece for 16 +, getting all the final bits ready for the summer and trying to rest my poor damaged ankle.  I am pleased to say the last is now almost better.  The swelling has reduced and although it is still painful, especially after a day on my pins, it is much better really.  I can unicycle and do all the high balances so that’s all that matters!

The season has well and truly started with Llandudno a distant past and the Anglesey Vintage Machinery Rally over two weeks ago.  My first visit to this and a most enjoyable weekend all round.  Friendly people and the weather was fine.  Not as fine as the rest of the UK apparently which basked in summer heat.  Anglesey was cloudy and rather windy, but no rain.  Which is not what can be said for the Bank Holiday weekend Saturday at the Hertfordshire County Show.  It was a fine day for the set up when I arrived on the Friday but the rain started in the middle of the night and just didn’t stop.  Well until about 11.00 when a break in the general sogginess meant I could set up shop and announce the first show.  The 12.00 show was very busy and enjoyable, likewise the second, but the third was about half way through when the dark skies presaged a thunder storm of biblical proportions.  The dogs rushed for the safety of the lorry and I rescued props from the deluge!  My occasional call up line ‘The last little show at the end of the world’ seemed it might be very appropriate, and I was seriously worried about the awning which shook and billowed in the angry wind.

But hey, a couple of hours later and a clear sky and open sky sunset and the Sunday forecast was not nearly as bad.  Over 15,000 advance tickets sold and a very busy day.  It’s a lovely County Show, and a really British affair with all the stewards in bowler hats and collars and ties. Very nice!  The shows were packed and I had several very appreciative emails along with an invitation to return next year.  That’s the way to do it!

The other news is that a young film maker called Rhys Edwards (believe it or not, he’s Welsh) is going to make a documentary film about me and the strange life I live!  He is a wonderful cameraman and director.  He recently won a major National film award with a real joy of a three-minute documentary about a sheep farming family near Caernarfon.  The film is called ‘A Good Bitch’ and it is three minutes of real joy.  Check it out on Rhys’ website http://www.rhysedwards.tv

He started filming at the Crich Tramway Village.  Apart from the day he was there, I spent four extremely soggy days there.  But what a lovely place. Check it out on (www.tramway.co.uk). The really great thing about it is the people who work there.  Another army of volunteers all dedicated to keeping the history of trams alive.  I especially liked Phil and Angie who made my stay really special. I was privileged to have the lorry parked in the corner of the tramyard during my stay and every morning the trams were taken from the shed by the volunteers, all in uniform and most in their sixties and seventies I guess, with the occasional young whippersnapper amongst them.  It was like watching Dad’s Army live.  Wonderful and heart-warmingly British.  I love these eccentrics.  The ones who dress up for fun and do something they love doing.  Bury me on their side of the grave yard!

The Village is a wonderful attraction and you must definitely put it on your list of must-go places.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

PS I am adding a photo on each blog called ‘from my window’, so you can have some idea of the fantastic places I stay in.  Today’s is the tram yard at Crich with the Red Lion ( a famous pub which was taken down brick by brick and reconstructed here) in the background and the trams waiting in the shed

Bucket on a pole

The following is a routine I used to do for years.  I thought you might like it.  It makes me laugh anyway!  I use to play the MC, rather formal and proper and haughty, high status, and the window cleaner (WC) was played by my old friend Norman Haddock (yes really) as a low status, clown type.  If anyone would like to play this lovely routine with me sometime over the summer, let me know and I will bring the important prop, which is a bucket on a platform on a long pole.  A really great circus prop, used by many clowns in many circuses for many years.

Window cleaner comes on with bucket on a pole (BP) and a bucket of water. He is looking up in the air.

WC      Any windows to clean? Windows, windows!

MC      What are you doing here? You’re interrupting the show!

WC      Windows ... any windows to clean?

MC      There are no windows to clean here.  This is a show.

WC      There are always windows. 

MC      Well do you mind going away as I have a show to do

WC      (going off) Windows…  Any windows to clean?…

MC      Excuse me but before you go, do you mind telling me.  I’m curious.  Why have you got two buckets?

WC      High bucket high windows, low bucket low windows

MC      I see.  But how do get the water from the low bucket into the high bucket?

WC      Ho do I? … (various attempts to get the water in, unsuccessfully, splashing everyone in the process.  WC looks perplexed)

MC      (helpful suggestion) You need more height

WC      (shouts) More height!  We need more height! (looks around as though height is going to materialise out of thin air)

MC      Do you want to borrow a ladder?

WC      Oh yes please!

MC      Well wait a minute (goes for ladder.  WC makes faces at audience)

MC      (brings on ladder) Here you are, now please go.  I’ve a show to do

WC      (looking at ladder) I’m scared of heights

MC      Scared of heights?

WC      That’s why I’ve got the tall bucket.

MC      Scared of heights, you’re a window cleaner!

WC      (All sorts of improvisation possibility here eg he was force to do it as a child by his evil stepmother or whatever) (Cries)

MC      OK look I’ll help but then you must go I’ve got a show to do

WC      You’ll help me?  Oh thank you thank you (hugs MC, instantly happier)

MC      Alright alright.  You you take the low bucket

            (business with bucket and steps – WC climbs ladder with BP.  Realises he is too tall) 

WC      You need more height.  More height! More height!  We need more height!

MC      (becoming exasperated) Look you take the high bucket

WC      (sings) and I’ll take the low bucket and I’ll be in Scotland….

MC      No the other way round

WC      (turns round) The other way round?

MC      Enough! Now you stand over here.

            (business with bucket and ladder – MC climbs ladder shakily (without the bucket of water and WC stands too far away)

MC      (getting angry) Over here!

WC      Over here, over there, make up your mind!

MC      (has forgotten low bucket) Agghhh! Pass me the bucket!  (WC gives BP)

MC      The other bucket!

WC      Make up your mind!

            (business with bucket as water is splashed deliberately )

MC      (angry)  Give me the bucket!

WC      OOOooooh Temper temper!

MC      (Yoga breathing, trying to calm himself) Stand here!

            MC pours all of water into BP (then business with last few drops – asks audience whether to pour over WC head?)

WC      (Cries) I’m scared of water!

MC      Scared of water? You’re a window cleaner!

WC      (same impro as above)

MC      Don’t start again! Don’t be such a baby.  Now go and clean your windows!

WC      Hey did you say this was a show?

MC      (suspicious) Yes why?

WC      Well I do a trick for a show

MC      Oh nonsense! This is a serious professional show!

WC      You don’t want me to do my trick? (starts to cry)

MC      NO I DON’T

WC      (cries more)

MC      (to audience) You don’t want him to do his trick, do you?

Audience        YES!

MC      Well I must say I’m disappointed.  I thought you were a quality audience.

            Alright then what are you going to do?

WC      I’m going to balance this pole on my chin.

MC      You’re going to…?  Oh no (WC starts.  The pole is very wobbly. It is going to fall over the audience...

MC      (tries to help)

            (Climax to routine as bucket falls showering audience with confetti)

MC      (chases off WC)

Of course the bucket on a pole is feked so all the water is funnelled into the pole itself and the dry confetti from the bucket showers the audience. 

If you’d like to make the prop email me and I will send you the plans…

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

A personal note to my mystery benefactor

No of course you can read it if it isn’t you, but this is especially to the person who has sent me mysterious messages some with more materialising money.  I am pretty sure you are reading this as I have the feeling that you do follow my life quite closely, so I will make the assumption that you are an internet user and will read this blog soon. 

Thank you for your latest investment. I intend to buy a fez with some of it, which accords rather well with the theme of the writing inside the accompanying card.  For anyone else who is reading this, the handwritten message inside the card read

Honouring His Hat

His Hat Holds His Head

His Hat Holds His H’apennies

Holding His Hat High

He Hears Happy Hurrahs

Hatted He’s Humble, Honest, Hopeful

Hatted He’s Handsome, Heroic, Hilarious

Here’s Honestly Hoping

He’ll Have Huge Happiness

Hats H’off 2 Him

H. Hardhat (Hat lover)

The fez will be used in the new routine that has emerged over the winter (without me really doing anything to provoke it).  It’s a tribute to (but not a parody of) Tommy Cooper who was always a favourite performer of mine, and the fez will centre the routine appropriately as it has an eastern theme.  I hope you have a chance to see it sometime soon.

I agree totally with the message on the front of the card.  Einstein also said that ‘Imagination is more important than knowledge’, a quote I always had up on my classroom wall when I taught for a living.  Without imagination, there is nothing and you certainly have more than an average portion of it.  Your intreaguing clues tantalise provocatively.  I am particularly beguiled by the South of England theatre connection.  It may be a smoke screen but I think that is where you are from.  Of course it could just be a red herring set up to make me think that… and is the ‘Hat lover’ a clue?

However I do need to say, on a serious note, that, much as I am touched and moved by your words (and enclosures), and will make good use of the investment, I would hate to think that you are depriving yourself of anything as a result and in many ways would rather say a proper thank you in appreciation and maybe offer you something in return for your gifts which have certainly helped me through a difficult period.  However, now that I am bringing in the occasional ha’penny, perhaps you feel you can say, if only privately, ‘OK it was me’ and allow me to thank you in person, and sleep at night without worrying that you might some day need that dosh yourself and I would have no way of knowing or being able to return the compliment/s you have paid me.

So come on, own up... take me out of my suspense... I promise I wont tell anyone or reveal your identity on these pages.

All the best from a road near you, maybe…

Mr Alexander

For those who kindly wished me a speedy recovery from my recent injury, thank you, it is mending slowly and although still very swollen, my ankle is going down gradually with the thrice daily application of the frozen peas.  I am hoping to be almost better in time for Ilfracombe and will struggle on till then!

Almost avoiding ambulances

I’m sitting writing this with my ankle strapped in a bandage and feeling rather sorry for myself.  Just ten minutes into my set up on Friday last I was carrying a heavy box and missed a hidden hole in the grass and went over on my ankle and realised immediately from the intense pain that this was a bad sprain. Despite immediate application of a packet of frozen peas the swelling was extreme.  A huge bump on the outside of the ankle and the impending impossibility of the rest of the setup, not to say the shows themselves, became instantly worrying.

I do have a weak right ankle.  Actually my whole right leg is a bit of a state generally, but the ankle is definitely one of the weaker elements.  It all dates back to a bad twist that I did in a show years ago in the middle of nowhere in Portugal.  I was with two other nomad performers doing a tour of that beautiful country, but specialising taking theatre to the tiny villages and outback communities.  It was in the mid-nineteen seventies, we were young and had the missionary zeal of those days (and the haircuts to go with it) and the place was almost medieval.  Children without shoes, ox carts and strange sports centres built by the recently deposed communist regime.  It was these sports centres we were playing, free to anyone who could come.  I remember one show.  We used to use a sawing the lady in half box which has always been an impressive routine.  We used to do it in role reversal with Pedro being sawn in half and coming out in drag.  Ah those were the days!  Pedro was in half in the box.  We had radio-controlled feet which wiggled realistically. Suddenly the whole audience was on their feet invading the stage, looking around the box, dumbstruck by the strangeness of the effect and crossing themselves.  Most peculiar.  A powerful demonstration of the suspension of disbelief.

Anyway, it was in one of these shows I landed badly off the unicycle and twisted my ankle.  It swelled up very similar to Friday’s experience.  But of course the nearest hospital was half a day away and no local doctor.  Apparently the only person the local people used was a sort of vet who treated people too.  Well I will try anything once.  A trip up the mountain with our Portuguese-speaking guide led us to a ramshackle two-storey building that looked like a barn with smoke drifting from on corner of the roof.  Downstairs was a barn, where the animals were kept.  Upstairs a very basic two or three room place with a hole in the roof to let the smoke out.  An old guy was THE man.  He looked at my ankle and made a few comments in guttural portuguese.  He handed me a bottle of clear liquid. ‘He says, drink this’ said the guide.  It was a very strong home-brewed alcohol called burgaso.  I had no idea what was coming next but he poured some burgaso over it and went to work on my swollen ankle, manipulating it with strong farmer’s fingers.  The pain was excruciating. ‘Drink more’, said the guide and I did.  After what seemed like hours but was probably two minutes he stopped the terrible ordeal and he bandaged my ankle and told me to return the next day.

I almost didn’t go back.  Fear of that pain repeated was almost as bad as the pain itself.  But isn’t that how pain is? I faced my fear and did go back.  The old man took off the bandages, offered me Burgaso which I took and he looked at it at length.  My heart was pounding. He then quickly re-bandaged it and sent me away saying it would be OK in a week.  No repeat manipulation and it was better in a week.  I think the manipulation was what he would have done to an animal with a  swollen joint, pushing around the fluid to help reduce the swelling.

There was no such medieval medicine available in Birkenhead on Friday. I was on a scouting site preparing celebration of ninety years of scouting in Birkenhead.  Luckily there was a GP on site and an ex H&E nurse (both Guide leaders) so I was able to have some advice and a proper bandage.  After about an hour of rest I tried to stand and managed it with some difficulty so decided that the show must go on and the rest of the set up must continue.  The shows went well considering I could hardly walk and of course I had the sympathy vote so was paid in full despite not being able to unicycle.  I did do the three chair balance which almost freaked the GP who had seen the ankle and know something of what I was going through!

And today the swelling has gone down a bit, though not as quickly as I remember it did in Portugal all those years ago.  Either the years are taking their toll and I'm not mending as fast or he knew what he was doing, that old vet.

All the best from a road near you,

Mr Alexander

PS Just told my friend Suzanne, who as well as being a great cabinet maker was also a physiotherapist, about the vet in Portugal.  She was horrified about what he did all those years ago.  She has prescribed frozen peas (applied not eaten) three times daily and keeping my foot high.  A good excuse to catch up on all those tv series her partner Russ has put on my hard drive!