My wondrous new website
Well the old one had done great service. The result of a short course a few years back at the local college where I learned enough HTML to cobble the thing together but it was certainly showing its age. (No parallels please) So it was time to move up and engage the professionals. After a little research I discovered Verb Marketing (verbmarketing.com) in Liverpool and they have created new Mr Alexander smart phone friendly website. Please do check it (mralexander.co.uk) and them out. I am very happy with the result, although as in all things there are always possibilities for improvement.
I wish the Royal Mail would improve a bit. For the second time in a couple of years they have lost an important parcel sent to me and intended to arrive by their guaranteed next day delivery service. A long story which I wont bore you with but the gist is that Timpson’s had to send my repaired Loakes (Quality Shoe) to me as they had delayed mending them. Royal Mail failed to deliver and they have still not been returned. Which meant I had to dash out to buy a new pair. Now I love Loakes Shoes. Hand made, British and quality. A bit like I aspire to be. But they need to be worn in. Ideally slowly an hour or so at a time, building up to a full day, with manipulation of the leather between wears. They then mold to your feet with the attention of a dear close friend and last more than a lifetime. I had no time, so the battle between my new Loakes and my feet is on and currently the Loakes are winning. I am at the wonderful Crich Tramway Museum and the road from the lorry to the stage is a painful half mile. Timpsons, to their great credit, have offered to buy the shoes for me. A tidy £165. My grandfather, himself a shoe salesman, would turn in his grave at that price. If the others do come back I shall be a man of two pairs of Loakes. A sure sign of success in life you must agree.
The layout at Crich needs some improvement too. Although I really love the place I still haven’t found my spot. It often takes a few years coming to a show every year to find just the right site for the stage. It has to face the sun, sit on firm level ground, be easily accessible with the lorry and away from other distractions, particularly noisy ones. So this year I’m definitely in the wrong place. A vehicular song and dance to pull on, facing South East, on extreme cobbles and with a Gavioli organ alongside. I hate fairground organs. Well let me say I hate them next to my stage. I like them in small doses if they are a way away. The incessant 4:4 time, driven I guess partly by the demands of the machine, always reminds me of soldiers marching to war. I deliberately try to walk out of sync with it when I leave, yearning for syncopation and offbeat mellow jazz. It also means that I have to leave to preserve my sanity and can only work when my show is timed and they turn the thing off. For many entertainers this is fine. It’s what they do. Half hour spot then sit around drinking tea until the next timetabled spot. Not this entertainer. I love the times between shows when I can play and practice with my props. Many of my best routines have been developed improvising in these interludes. But the sudden blast of Colonel Bogey from the Gavioli puts paid to all that and I am forced to sit around and drink tea like other entertainers. My body and mind go cold and bored and it takes even more effort to rise up for the next show.
Maybe next year they will find me somewhere to fit in. I love the place and apart from the exact location I fit the place like a glove. Or maybe like a pair of well worn Loakes. I can dream of and work towards both.
All the best from a rather painful road near you,