My young fans
I received a lovely email and will copy it
here. It was from Kirsty, whose fabulous
wedding to Lawrence I was lucky to attend and entertain a couple of years ago.
Kirsty
wrote about her daughter Evelyn who I think is nearly three.
"Evelyn just said to me: "I want to
see Alandar"
I was stumped.
"Amanda?", I asked, thinking it might be a child from school.
"No!" was the response. "Alandar" she repeated.
"Alandar?", I asked. "No" was the response again.
Evelyn tried a
different tack: "I want to see 'one alligator, two alligator'.
"Yes!" says
Evelyn. "Can we take our coats?’ “
I
love the final comment about the coats.
I’ve no idea what it meant but I love the wonderful innocence in the
non sequitur. For those who don’t know
the alligator reference comes from one of my routines which had obviously
been particularly memorable for Evelyn.
And
of course I love working with children, even though in my shows, as they run,
I tend to perform to the adults in my audiences and assume the children will
also follow on too. It’s a
psychological thing. I am not only a
children’s entertainer. I play to the
child in everyone, including the children, and this is the difference I
think. I try to entertain the children
and amuse the adults. Or is it the
other way around?
Many
adults tell me they love the expressions on the children’s faces as they
watch and of course, once in a while, I stop my show’s frantic gallivanting
to notice it too. I try to look at
myself through those wide eyes and their burgeoning view of the world. I worry what will happen when the children
who receive the million pound note I sometimes give as a prize present it at the
checkout with a trolleyfull of toys. I grieve over the early loss of
innocence brought about by our connected lives and I worry about the planet
we are leaving for them. But for that
half hour I know that I seem to be able to weave a spell that suspends time along
with the harsh realities of our lives and creates a world that echoes the
innocence and wonder with which children view everything. It’s that world I
try to draw the adults into as I perform, and it seems I am progressing in
that life endeavour. Practice makes
progress.
It
certainly had a lot of practice at Shrewsbury, the first syllable to be
pronounced I was firmly told, as the small rodent and not to rhyme with
‘show’. The Shrewsbury Flower Show was
lovely. The stunning Dingle garden in
the park where the show takes place is an award-winning masterpiece, timed to
look its very best for the Flower show.
The marquee displays are worth the huge entrance price I guess, but
£26 for an adult is by far the largest entrance fee at any show I attend. Maybe I’m just moving up in the world. At least the children come in free which
means there are many of them for me to play to and for. As a bit of a gardener myself, I gazed in
awe and wonder at the displays of vegetables and fruit, the cut flower creations
and the immaculate bonsai.
Much
like the awe and wonder with which the children, my young fans, along with
many of the older ones, gaze at my show.
So it’s all good.
All
the best from a road near you,
Mr
Alexander
PS Sorry about the strange formatting in this chapter. I've tried various ways to solve it without joy and have given up trying! |