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,
Mr Alexander