Loanhead for you, Loanhead for me
I worked my way north for four days from
Ilfracombe to Loanhead last week. The
longest trip ever between gigs in my travelling life, it was both relaxing and
enjoyable to watch Britain unfurl through my lorry windscreen. The best was the last day of course. If you are ever planning a road trip to
Edinburgh from anywhere in the West of Britain, I thoroughly recommend the A701
crossing from Moffat. There is always a
temptation to cross further South from the M6, but the A701 is by far the most
sensational route in terms of scenery and natural beauty. It is also not such a major hurdle, once you
have made a reasonably easy climb out of Moffat, the remainder of the trip
follows the peaks of the hills with some amazing vistas opening at every turn.
Scotland’s galas are special, and
Loanhead’s one of the best I have attended. I think they are closely tied into
ex-mining communities and a way which historically they allowed hard working
families to have a day to really look forward to every year, and which allowed
for one local family’s child to be promoted to Gala Queen for the year. It is a fascinating tradition and galvanizes
the community in a way which doesn’t happen elsewhere.
I arrived a couple of days early which allowed
a slow and easy set up on the field, the town’s Memorial Park. The day before
the gala all the local schools (during school time) arrived for a special show
in the park. Part of the show involved
them all singing the Loanhead Gala song
Loanhead, Loanhead Gala Day (repeat three
times)
L-O-A-N-H-E-A-D
Loanhead for you, Loanhead for me
I had the song earworming through my head
for the whole stay.
The gala day itself is over almost before
it has begun. A big parade to the park
arrives at 1.30, three shows with the last one at 3.30 and then everyone was
gone. Luckily the promised rain didn’t
arrive and the afternoon ended in warm sunshine and very well-attended
shows.
Also on the field was a colleague, Andrew
Van Buren with his illusion show, and it was a great pleasure to have a few
minutes to catch up with him. Andrew’s
father Fred started a family tradition of illusionists which is wonderfully
told in a DVD which Andrew gave me.
Andrew is establishing a celebration of the life of Philip Astley (1742
-1814), the ‘father of modern circus’ in Astley’s home town of Newcastle next
year and I look forward to being involved with that.
As I was setting up on the field the day
before the usual line of portaloos were being run alongside my pitch. As I watched it became obvious that the line
of toilets would reach right into the space that my audience would occupy. I went over to the men and asked them to stop
as it was obviously some mistake. The
leader of the men was a Glaswegian and built like a brick version of the
plastic toilets he was unloading. He
also had anger management issues. Why is
it that Glasgow male citizens often have this classic character trait?
You can imagine the situation as I remonstrated
that the line of toilets couldn’t come into my audience space and he insisted
that he was placing the toilets where he had been told to do and I could just
‘F*** off’. I managed just in time to
find a committee member to ask angry toilet man to put them elsewhere, but not
before he threatened to drop a toilet which he had lifted single-handed from
his truck onto my head.
Oh the joys of open-air entertainment.
All the best from a road near you,
Mr Alexander