Good King Hal

The Parable of the Yo-Yo-ing Henry VIII

2012-01-22T22:30:00.012Z

Good King Hal trying valiantly to out-stare a Triffid.

And Lo, it came to pass, that in the land that is known as Somerset, there dwelt a man called Good King Hal who didst wear tights and impersonate some old Queen or something. And verily he wouldst travel the country and startle children and teachers alike with stories of times past. And e'en now Good King of the Hal wouldst booketh his appearances so that they wouldst all be in the same area of the land that is known as Eng-Er-Land and he wouldst not have to fanny-eth about on the motorway too much. Well, that was-eth the plan. In the month that is January in the year of our Lord that is 2012, it did come to pass that Good King of the Hal had somewhat nausethed up his bookings and lo it did also come to pass that he would be doing a show in the land that is known as Dorset and then immediately have to driveth unto even like the Button that is known as Jensen, and haul his Tudor bottom all the way over to the land that is known as Norfolk in lesseth time than it taketh the on-line supplier, that is known as Amazon, to getteth a new DVD to you, even with their bargain delivery service. And there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth and use of the "F" word. And thou doesn't have to be a mind reader to worketh out what happened next... Here end the lesson.

Yes folks, it was time to get on the road and do some quite obscene amounts of driving. I was heading on the Thursday back to Downlands School at Blandford Camp in Dorset. This was my fourth visit to them, but I only get to go there every two years as I do my show for years 3 and 4 combined. As Blandford Camp is an army base you must sign in through their security post when you first arrive. As it was I arrived at the camp at about 7.30am and presented myself to the security guards. They had not been informed by the school that I was coming but seemed to see this as some sort of fault on my behalf. I was treated with utter contempt by one elderly uniformed creep and with slight disdain by the other hoary old Scottish git. When I asked them what I should do I was told in no uncertain terms to basically bugger off and sit in my car until 8am. This I did, but was then told on returning to the Chuckle Brothers that they had still not managed to get hold of anyone at the school. The elderly uniformed creep had now gone off duty and I was left in the warm tender care of the thistle flavoured one. Eventually word was got to the school and they avowed that I was not a psychotic Al Qaeeda operative with explosives strapped to my codpiece and I was let in.

It was nice to be back at Downlands - the school has been almost completely rebuilt in the two years since I was last there. It looks fantastic! It was a brilliant day as ever at Downlands - lovely kids, great teachers and lots of fun and games. I was warmly welcomed and treated like real Royalty by everyone there, which made up for the rude welcome from the Security Guards. After lunch we had a stunning jousting tournament which was won by a very good Ladies team. The score then stood at:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 15 LADIES

I drove back to Crewkerne and packed a small suitcase and was soon on my way up a rapidly darkening A303 for a trip to Essex. On my arrival I was hugged tightly by my lovely son, always a good welcome.

I was up at 5am on the Friday morning for a two and a bit hours drive up to Martham Junior School near Norwich. My previous two visits to this school had been at the height of summer, so it was a bit of a shock to the nervous system to arrive in temperatures only just above freezing. But the welcome was as warm as the hottest summer day. Martham is a delightful school and it is a real pleasure to go back there every time. It was a biggish group, over 100 children, a mixture of year 5 and 6, and they were fantastic - so full of life and enthusiasm. The noise when they really got going was almost unbelievable and the jousting was of a suitably high standard. At last though it was time for the gents to finally snatch a well deserved victory. So at the end of the week the score is:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 15 LADIES

I drove back to Essex for a couple of days with my lovely son, then this morning it was back to yo-yo-ing up and down the A303 for a return to Somerset and tomorrow morning I am off down to Tiverton in Devon and another visit to Blundell's Prep School. And just to show the yo-yo-ing isn't over, the day after that I have to drive back to Essex for a visit to Wickford School. I really must not organise a week like this again for a while. I don't think my car will forgive me if I do.

Wassail 2012

2012-01-18T20:04:00.003Z

Matthew Applegate, reliable and deeply wonderful visitor services manager at Barrington Court, looking for his "front door keysh... hic!" in his Wassail bowl.

The previous few years, the Wassail at Barrington Court had suffered at the hands of the elements. Strong winds, heavy rain and piercing cold seemed to have been the common denominator. Matthew Applegate, usually the event organiser as well as being the most criminally undervalued Visitor Services Manager in the entire National Trust, was having trouble for this year's event with getting "acts" to come along. In previous years a samba drumming band had been one of the most popular turns, but they were not available this year and so it just seemed that a big public event was not in the offing. It was decided instead to have a private Wassail at Barrington Court, with entry by invitation only. However, the Langport Mummers group which appears every year had other ideas, and put the Wassail show on their official posters and this had garnered a lot of public interest, so it was therefore decided that all those invited should come, and if any members of the public turned up, well the more the merrier!

As it was there was quite a good turn out anyway, mostly familiar figures seen at the Court house throughout the year and at previous Wassails. It was an absolute delight to see Sarah Kennedy there (no, not the former early morning slurring-voiced BBC Radio 2 turps nudging presenter but the close friend of Barrington Court's pommellier, Rachel Brewer - who is currently away on holiday in Thailand hence no appearance by her and her other half Anthony) and we spent most of the evening almost huddled together against the cold. It was quite icy, but the hot mulled cider certainly helped matters.

Well we had the usual Wassail nonsense, a few carols, a poem by yours truly, The Langport Mummers and their play, the procession to the King cider tree, the offering of toast and cider to the tree, and then the firing of guns to scare away evil spirits. Wonderful stuff. If you have never experienced a proper Wassail then mark January 17th 2013 in your diary and get down to Barrington Court, but don't forget a torch and lots of thermal underwear. It can be bitter.

On the drive home various fire engines came roaring past me on their way to what seemed to be a nasty car crash on the back roads near Shepton Beauchamp - I hope no one from the Wassail was involved. Tomorrow I am off to Blandford Camp and a Henry day at Downlands School - looking forward to it!

Penwythnos gwyllt yng Nghymru. (Oh a sioe yn Henffordd).

2012-01-17T12:01:00.004Z

The sort of image that was once banned by the Geneva Convention.

Now try saying the title of this blog entry when you've had a few. Not easy is it. Mind you, it's not easy when you're sober either to be honest. I think the Welsh language sometimes goes out of it's way to be awkward. Last Thursday our story begins, with an early rise and a drive up to Hereford for a second visit to the lovely Riverside School there. I last visited this school back in 2010 and it was just in the final throes of being built back then. Now, in early 2012 it is complete and looks magnificent. It was a big group today, about 60+ pupils but all very lively and articulate. They were very much up for the day and to be honest had to be reined in a little from time to time. But I would always much rather have that scenario, than the one of them sitting in stony silence.

The morning passed fairly quickly, with a slightly extended morning break to allow the school to have an assembly. Lunch was a beef stir fry with noodles, which was surprisingly tasty for a school dinner. Usually there isn't enough salt in one of the meals to harm even the wimpiest of slugs, but this meal was very well seasoned and edible. The afternoon was loud and over-excitable and culminated in another thrilling joust which was won, inevitably it seems, by the Ladies AGAIN. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 14 LADIES

They are escaping. No doubt about it. On leaving the school at about 3.15pm, I was not to head back down the jolly old M5 and home to Somerset - no! I was heading back out to Newcastle Emlyn for a long weekend being spoilt by my parents at their home. I had seen them at Christmas, but had been with my son who takes up most of my time, and my Father was not particularly well, so I wanted to see them and spend a bit more time with them. They had other guests staying with them - their old friends from Essex, Mike and Ros Bloomfield. We had a lovely weekend with a long day out over to Tenby where I managed to get yet more post cards of the Edwardian actress Gertie Millar to add to my ever increasing collection, and then the following day driving to the wonderfully named village of Gwber (pronounced Goober, as in "Goober and the Ghost Chasers" - how many of you remember THAT little pearl of retro-TV?)where we had a delicious lunch at the brilliant Flat Rock Restaurant. I drove back to Somerset on the Monday morning.

Tonight is Wassail night back at Barrington Court, but it is a much more laid back small affair this year, with attendance really only by invite only. I am then back to being Henry again on Thursday with a return visit to Blandford Camp in Dorset and a show at the Downlands School.

Ilchester, sir! Quite staggeringly popular!

2012-01-11T19:35:00.002Z

A tense moment during the opening rounds of "Ye Stryctlye Comme Pavanning" from 1538. Amazingly the programme was being presented by Bruce Forsyth even then. And he was still utter crap.

This was my first Henry show back after the long Christmas and New Year lay off. It was a nice gentle re-introduction with just a short drive over to the town of Ilchester just off the A303. Life would have been easier if my pathetic sat nav could actually find the place I was going to. It had barely heard of Ilchester, let alone the road I was striving to find. Somehow, through a mixture of blind luck and asking a startled looking old man out walking his dog I managed to find a school. Not THE school, just A school. It was Ilchester Primary (Infants) and I was looking for Ilchester Primary (Juniors), so with a new set of directions ringing in my ears I was off again, and very soon at the place I needed to be. I was welcomed and let in by the school caretaker, a lovely friendly lady - which was a nice change. The only previous female caretaker I can recall was the one at Boxted near Colchester who looked like Daryl Hannah (the caretaker that is, not the school).

This is a lovely school, I cannot say how friendly I was welcomed or how kind and generous all the staff were. It was as if they had all known me for years which was absolutely wonderful. It was a big group of children today - over 90, but they were all absolutely terrific. Fun, buzzy and ready and willing to laugh and learn, something that always makes my job so much easier. When I was doing the talk about the fate of poor Anne Boleyn, I did my usual thing of choosing one of the female teachers at random to play the doomed Queen. As I approached the bit about the beheading, a small girl in the audience just dissolved into tears - it turned out it was this teacher's daughter and she was worried I was really going to lop her Mum's head off! The teacher I had chosen had the absolutely delicious name of Mrs Custard! I shall allow my hallowed readers to make up their own jokes at this point, but feel free to post the best ones to me...

Lunch was a delicious roast pork and then we were off and flying for the afternoon session. It was a riot, loads of laughs aplenty and much fun for everyone it seems. We finished off with the inevitable joust which went down to the wire before a very competent ladies team romped home to victory. This now makes the ongoing scores:

GENTLEMEN 11-13 LADIES

I headed for home and then indulged in a highly unhealthy Chinese takeaway, but to be honest I couldn't face the idea of cooking. Tomorrow I am up bright and very early for a drive up to Hereford and a return visit to Riverside School, before then driving on from there to visit my parents for the weekend in Wales. There's lovely.

It's The End of the World as We Know It... But not till later on...

2012-01-06T10:05:00.003Z

Good King Hal, the morning after the 31st December wondering whether the third pint of kerosene was really such a good idea after all.

2012? So what is due? The London Olympics for a start. Not that I have been contacted by the organising committee - it might be a long shot if I am aiming to line up against Usain Bolt in the 100 metres, but I did give them my details a while ago wondering if they might need Henry VIII for some of their publicity. But so far - in the words of Bluebottle - "not a sossige". And what else for 2012? Oh yes, the end of the World. Apparently some Mayan Priests have predicted the end of everything by 2012, which is nearly quarter past eight on the 24 hour clock. So I better have an early dinner tonight otherwise I might be about to meet my maker with indigestion. Very embarrassing.

Professionally, I have Henry shows coming up at Ilchester, Hereford, Blandford, Tiverton and Wickford in Essex for this month and many more next month, which is good. I am also having a fund raising evening for the National Austistic Society masquerading as a birthday party at the end of February at which I am hoping many friends will come along.

But don't forget - for the finest Key Stage 2 Tudor Day for your pupils and at your school then contact Good King Hal either via this blog, at the website www.goodkinghal.co.uk or follow Good King Hal on Facebook.

Happy New Year everyone - have a great year. Until nearly quarter past eight tonight when we're all DOOMED!!!!!!

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday...Oh, it was...

2011-12-26T14:37:00.003Z

Good King Hal wondering where the Hell he left the sleigh. Can you see a chimney anywhere?

This year, being Father Christmas was a much nicer happier experience than last year. One of the main reasons was the almost complete and utter lack of any snow. I personally loathe the stuff and I am still, to this very day, perplexed by the sort of people who pay vast sums of money to travel the globe trying to find it. And when they do find it, they then attach planks of wood to their feet and slide down the bloody stuff. And I am always tremendously sympathetic when they arrive back at Gatwick or Heathrow with compound fractures to both lower legs. I always try to take their minds of the intense pain by pointing out how nice their out of season sun tans look. It doesn't always work to be honest.

The grotto was again located in the Dog Collar Museum at Leeds Castle in the courtyard next to the Fairfax Hall restaurant. It was a nice walk through a faux winter wonderland dotted with deer and penguins. The path was a raised walkway that thankfully only one small child managed to plummet off during our run. The evening shows were again like last year up in the castle only this time no child presented with a name as good as "Lost in Chaos" from 2010, though we did have one little girl bowl up called "Twinkle", which is all well and good when you're 7 years old, blonde and cute. It might be a tad less suitable when you're 36, vastly over weight and with six screaming children running amok in your council flat. I stayed at my sister's house in Stockbury for the entire run this time, failing miserably to get snowed into the castle this time around. I also failed miserably to get a girlfriend to come and stay with me for a romantic weekend at the castle early in the run by getting dumped before reaching the required date. C'est la vie.

Staying at my sisters is always lovely as I am guaranteed a warm welcome from her and my brother-in-law Julian, and their two lovely dogs Charlie and Una. The food is good, the bed warm and comfy and, Eastenders aside, the entertainment mostly very agreeable. The only down side is the effort it takes to get into their house. It is perched at the top of a short steep hill just off the A249 and when it rains the ground and driveway churn up like very impressive impressions of Passchendale during the 1914-18 conflict. Added to this at the bottom of the hill Julian has recently installed a new security gate following recent thefts from his garden by some charming chaps who may or may not have a connection with Dale Farm near Basildon, if you follow my drift. The gate is sealed by a pretty much tamper proof padlock, the unlocking and re-locking of was one of my main duties during all my comings and goings from their house. They had supplied me with a key. On one of my first journeys back to their house in the pitch dark after an evening show, I drove up to the gates, got out the car, slithered and slipped my way to the gate, spent a few happy minutes swearing, sweating and cursing as I attempted to get the very small key into the lock and then coax it into opening. I finally succeeded - so back into the car, drive it through the gates, stop the other side and get out and re-lock the gates. The other side of the gate was even darker and wetter. I got out and immediately put my foot into a huge muddy puddle that sunk up to my lower ankle - good job my boots were high and waterproof. I took another step and instantly sank up to my mid-calf in thick black treacle-like mud that poured into the top of my boot and soaked my feet. My, how we laughed. But it was a small price to pay for such kindness and welcome from my sister and her husband. By the end of the stay my car looked like it had just been dragged out of a swamp - and so did I.

I finished on Christmas Eve at just after midday and drove up to Essex to spend Christmas Day with my lovely son James and his Mother. Tomorrow, the 27th, he and I head off down to Wales to visit my parents for a family New Year gathering at their house which should be very nice indeed. So for all their help and hard work at Leeds Castle this Christmas I would love to say a big thank you to: Darlene, Becky Lander, the incredible Dodd sisters (Becca, Jen and Pip), Sophie, Adam, Dallas for building the grotto, Pat and Alan, Barbara, Marina, Lyn Jones, Trisha, and Helen Ellis for proving that subtlety is just something that happens for other people. If I have forgotten anyone, I apologise.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Ho-Ho-Ho and Ellesmere Port...

2011-12-13T21:50:00.003Z

Now available from BID TV! Your very own inflatable life-size Henry VIII complete with six wives, a chopping block and a Papal Dispensation. Only £9.99 plus postage and packing (immense) - order now to avoid disappointment!

So this is Christmas. And what have you done? Stuck on a big white beard and headed for Leeds Castle again in my case. Yes, it's that time of year again when parents bring small children into Santa's Grotto and scare the crap out of them. Back at Leeds we were once again in the Dog Collar Museum which has been transformed into a winter wonderland by the genius that is Dallas, the man who always masterminds the building of the Grotto. Again it looks amazing, with the parents and children walking through on a raised walkway surrounded by deer and penguins in various states of deep freeze. I am at the end of the walkway in my large Santa throne with a very impressive Christmas Tree and a big sack of presents. We started on Saturday 10th December and it was busy buy not too hectic. On hand again were two of the wonderful Dodd sisters - Jen and Pippa, plus able support from Lynn Jones, Marina, Trisha and of course, Darlene and her assistant Becky. On the first day we had one very cute little lad in who was a bit gobsmacked when he first came into the grotto but soon got into his stride. When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas he thought long and hard, then said "Thomas". I asked "Thomas, what?" and he replied, after a long silent think - "Thomas pants." Well, you can't argue with that. Over the first two days we had a good few absolutely terrified children, but also lots of very happy jolly ones as well. I stayed at my sister Cathy's on the Saturday night where she cooked a fabulous meal, and then after the Sunday show I drove up to Essex for dinner with my lovely son James and his Mum, Amanda who had cooked a lovely roast beef meal which was delightful.

On Monday I headed up to Cheshire for a Henry show on the Tuesday in Ellesmere Port. I was booked in again at a delightful Travelodge near Chester and spent a not very nice evening listening to Manchester City being unfairly beaten by Chelsea. The main unfair part was that Chelsea scored one goal more than we did. Swines! This morning I headed up to Wolverham Primary in Ellesmere Port, which was a lovely school and met up with Joseph Bullen the teacher who had booked me. He had heard about me from a friend of his who had seen my previous appearance at a school in Cheshire when I was up near Nantwich a little while ago. It was a small group - only about 20 children, all from year 3, but they were enthusiastic, loud and, importantly very knowledgeable about Henry and the Tudors. We had a fun morning before a very nice lunch, then the afternoon started in one of the classrooms as the hall was temporarily in use. So I did the stocks session in there before we headed back to the main hall for a very loud and enthusiastic jousting tournament. It was closely fought but culminated with a good win for a Gentleman's team. As this is the last show before my Christmas break our current score for the end of the year stands at:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 12 LADIES

It is as close as that! I headed out for the long drive back to Somerset at about 3.15pm and made steady if unspectacular progress down towards the M6 - but got held up after a car smash on the A500. I finally made it onto the motorway and began south. Eventually I made it back to Crewkerne at about 7.30pm, tired, hungry but glad that I had not hit too much of the appalling weather we had been promised. Yes, the wind was very strong but there was not the Biblical rain storms that had been hinted at and no snow, and as far as I am concerned that is GOOD! I have tomorrow off, then on Thursday I am off back down to Kent again for the big push through to Christmas Eve in the Grotto.

Edgar Stammers and Southglade (NOT a rock group)

2011-12-07T15:37:00.004Z

Good King Hal and his daughter (Bob) wondering where all the glass has gone from the window behind them. What a pane (geddit???).

I told a friend of mine on the phone the other night that I was off to Walsall to do a show. He asked if after that I was moving on to Gdansk. I had to repeat myself and tell him I was going to WalSALL, not Warsaw. Mind you last time I was in Walsall I had got up so early due to an inability to sleep I probably could have driven to Warsaw to do a show. Not to be caught out again I had decided to drive up on the Sunday and book myself into the luxury that is a Travelodge so as to be fresh and early at the school on the Monday. I booked online and found out to my delight that a room at a Travelodge in Walsall at the beginning of December was only £12. What a bargain! The drive up to begin with was quite nice - cold and bright, with not much traffic on the road. However as I approached the Midlands the sky became black as Newgate's Knocker and the rain just hammered down. I finally sloshed to a halt outside the august portals of the Walsall Travelodge. Now, yes admittedly it was only £12 to stay the night, but they then immediately charged you £3 for the pleasure of parking there. There was a small cafe/restaurant downstairs that offered you breakfast. But this appeared to consist of a rather forlorn looking slice of bacon, a chipolata, some watery scrambled eggs and some toast for £7.95. I'd rather starve, so I did.

I had a comfortable night in my room on the 2nd floor only being disturbed by the drunken shrieking of some demented woman at about 11pm - she wasn't happy about something and obviously wanted everyone else in the hotel to know about it. I got up the next morning and drove round to the wonderfully named Edgar Stammers School. Now to me, the name Edgar Stammers sounds like a 1960's soul singer on the Stax record label rather than a nice primary school in the West Midlands. It was a really fun group on the day - about 40+ children and all very enthusiastic. All was going really well until we got to the end of the morning session. At this point, halfway through my talk, there was a barely audible knock on the door to the hall before it was smashed open and several scary looking women of advanced years and varying degrees of gold dentistry, stormed into the hall and began noisily chucking tables and chairs around while cackling to each other. Tables were crashed down, chairs dragged honkingly loudly over the floor and voices like Thames barge foghorns were projected. I made a comment fairly loudly about them being a tad rude in stomping in like that and was shot a look from one of the teachers that said "LEAVE IT! THEY AIN'T WORTH IT!" As they began to finally (and equally loudly) to leave I called after them "Why did you bother knocking?"

After lunch, and more loud haranguing from the antediluvian dinner ladies ("'Ere! 'Enry! Where's yer Mrs? Eh? Eh?") it was back to normality, or as normal as I can get without using make up. The jousting was of a very high standard and ended up with a good Gents team coming home first. Our score therefore now moves up to:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 11 LADIES

And of course with the next contest coming up very quickly. Edgar Stammers was a lovely school, great children, lovely teachers, and very scary dinner ladies. It was like Jurassic Park with tabards.

I drove from Walsall over to South Witham near Grantham where my dear friend Val Smart lives. We wandered down to the local village pub that evening and had a lovely meal at The Blue Cow Inn. I stayed there once before as you might recall from a previous entry in the blog. It was a cold frosty evening but we sat next to a blazing log fire and had a lovely meal. The only drag was when the pub manager, who looked like a gnome who'd lost his mushroom, noticed my Manchester City t-shirt I was wearing and came over for some good natured banter as he was a Man Ure fan. He then regaled us with tales of his past life, where he'd lived, what illnesses he'd had, which RAF stations his son has been posted to and for how long, why Mousehole in Cornwall is called Mousehole, how many light bulbs they use in illuminating the village in winter... At one point I didn't think he was going to stop and I was seriously considering trying to shove him into the fireplace in a desperate attempt to escape. But we did get away. I slept in Val's spare room on a tiny, but very comfortable bed.

Tuesday morning and I was again up at bloody-hell-o'clock in the morning for a drive up to Nottingham and my visit to Southglade Junior School. This is another lovely school and I was very warmly welcomed by the teachers and staff. The children were unbelievably enthusiastic this day. It was all that I could do to reign them in and keep them on this side of hysteria. They were the same sort of size group as the day before, but about 20 times louder. Perhaps their dinner ladies were 20 times louder as well. I hoped not. The morning did honestly seem to just shoot past and I ended up for the last few minutes being interviewed in the classroom by one of the two classes, as I sank slowly into an unbelievably squashy low chair. Thank God I had my walking stick with me as I might have needed a midwife to get me out of it. Lunch was pretty awful to be honest - an all day breakfast consisting of bacon (OK), wedges (dry), mushrooms (nice), beans (stewed) and two of the most tasteless sausages I have ever experienced in my life. I know schools have to cut down on the old sodium for the sake of the kids health, but this was just taking the proverbial. They were just flavourless greyish tubes full of mush.

The afternoon was predictably loud and popular and the jousting was a joyous occasion as two really good teams fought it out in the final. The ladies came through for a deserved win though, and so our score goes back to:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 12 LADIES

I left the school at 3.30pm and made steady if unspectacular progress, until I reached junction 5 of the M42 where a car had caught fire and two lanes were blocked. I got held up there for just over half an hour. But I was soon on my way again - until the Avonmouth Bridge on the M5 where about 6 or 7 cars had decided to smash into each other and closed another couple of lanes. I was held there for about another 45 minutes. I finally walked into my flat at about 8.30pm - that had been a long long day. But worth it! And I know I am far enough away from the Dinnerladysaurus to be completely safe - for now. Tomorrow I am driving to Essex to see my lovely son and then down to Leeds Castle this weekend for the first Father Christmas weekend of the festive season. Looking forward to grooving on down with my Elves to the "Santa Rap" - HOOO-HO-HO-HOOOOO!

The Maynard

2011-12-02T20:36:00.003Z

Canadian 400 metre underwater shove ha'penny Olympic quadruple gold medallist, Bruce Moosejaw IV comes thundering into the home straight with only himself to beat. And does it convincingly. Meanwhile society hostess Camilla Parker-Pen demolishes another bottle of Bombay Sapphire, while the sun sinks slowly into a pair of y-fronts. And now here's Carol Kirkwood with the weather... Carol?

I have many reasons for enjoying a trip down to Exeter in Devon and my yearly return visit to The Maynard School For Girls. One is their insistence that I don't have to start my Tudor Day until 10am. This obviously involves me staying in bed longer than normal on the morning of a Henry show, but I am prepared to suffer for my art. Secondly is my ever warm welcome from the delightful staff at this lovely school, particularly from the gorgeous Keagh Fry who now greets me on my arrival like a long lost friend. And thirdly it is always just such a fun place to come and work in. It was the usual smallish group today - about 20 young ladies I suppose, but each and every one of them in wonderful Tudor costumes. I started the show at about 10.35am, and by 12 noon we had finished for lunch -my kind of hours! It was another lovely meal at this school followed by a leisurely lounge in the comfortable staff room with it's legendary squashy sofa - the one that nearly rendered me unconscious about three years ago on a previous visit.

Straight after lunch it was a bit of music and chat from the King followed by a raucous stocks session which finished with the Head of the School being pilloried, swiftly followed by the Head of the Junior School taking another ear bashing. Great stuff. We then moved into the final jousting tournament which was loud and exciting but unfortunately can't be added to our yearly score as this is an all-girls school! But all in all it was another fun, friendly and pleasant visit to this lovely school in Exeter and a delight to see Keagh again. One of the young ladies in the group was called Emily and had the sort of voice that could pierce lead screens and reinforced concrete bunkers at a range of anything up to several and a half miles. She will go far, of that I have no doubt. I drove back home and treated myself to a Chinese take-away and an early night, though not at the same time as it might make the bed sheets a bit greasy. My next Henry outing is on Monday at Edgar Stammers School in Walsall. Thought it might be Warsaw. I'd better check...

Dean Close Prep - Cheltenham

2011-12-01T21:17:00.004Z

Good King Hal showing Jane Seymour an old trick he learnt on the "Mary Rose".

Scene: A sun-kissed tropical beach, cobalt blue waters are lapping on shimmering near white sands. Good King Hal is sitting on a lounger chair in his full Tudor robes, with a knotted handkerchief on his head while sipping a large pina colada and contemplating whether to have the langoustines or the curry pot noodle for lunch. Lisa Rogers, late of Scrapheap Challenge emerges from the water in a tiny white two piece bikini. Rivulets of water cascade down her firm semi naked body as she sashays up the beach with a sensual sway to her step. She stops next to Good King Hal's lounger chair and reaches out her hand. The King takes her hand and kisses it. She leans forward and whispers in his ear those words he had longed to hear....

BEEP-BIDDA-BIDDA-BEEP! Garg-thnarg-wassat? Damn! It was all a fecking dream! And what's worse, it is 5am and pitch dark outside AND it's the first day of December. It must be time to drive up to Cheltenham and visit Dean Close Prep. The previous evening Crewkerne had experienced weather of near Biblical proportions. Rain had lashed at my flat's windows most of the evening and a strong wind had been howling round the eaves. I really wasn't looking forward to the long drive if the weather was going to be like that. As it was the morning was cold, but dry. Added to which the roads were staggeringly empty and I made brilliant progress up the M5 towards Gloucestershire. I arrived at the impressive gates of Dean Close at about 7.30am, so I simply parked up on their drive and waited till things seemed to wake up a bit. It was a group of around 30+ children from Year 5. Some were a little over excitable, but mostly they were a friendly good natured group with lots of laughs among them. After the morning opening talk we then had an extended early morning joust in the large impressive sports hall. We took timings of all the children over two runs and totted up their scores, the fastest three gents and the fastest three ladies would go head to head in the final this afternoon...

Lunch was the usual delicious fayre that you get at most private schools - a warming tasty shepherds pie. I sat at a table with a year 6/7 teacher who bore an uncanny resemblance to Jeffrey Archer, but I resisted any temptation to punch him as he was unlike Archer in that he was eminently likeable and self-effacing. After the feast it was back to the Tudor nonsense with a fun stocks session and then the final of the jousting in which the two top teams fought it out in a lively and loud finale. The ladies swept to another comfortable victory. Latest score then is now:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 11 LADIES

I packed my stuff away and began the long journey home. My morning drive had mostly been in darkness, my evening drive was pretty much the same, this time with the added fun of occasional squally showers. Tomorrow shouldn't see me in the car for quite so long as I am back down to The Maynard School in Exeter for a full day. Now all I have to do is find that exotic sun-kissed beach again and see if Lisa Rogers is still there. And langoustines it is!

Bathampton!

2011-11-30T20:09:00.004Z

The Three Degrees about to launch into an eye-watering version of "Whence Will I See Ye Againe, Hey Nonny?"

Do you like the picture above? Taken at the Mistletoe Fayre at Barrington Court last Saturday where you can see me with Diane Collings and Zarrina Bull either side of me in their smashing frocks! Tuesday evening found me back on Pub Quiz territory as my friends from Barrington Court (Rachel Brewer, Anthony, Sarah and another couple we met at the NT quiz last Friday) took on all comers at the monthly quiz at the Phelips Arms in Montacute. We thrashed the lot of them and will be back sometime in the future for another bash at this popular and tricky quiz.

It was back to the schools again today, and on a day of closed schools and much frothing at the mouth by some people about the public sector strikes, I was booked at a school that seemed completely untouched by the industrial action. It was to be a half day at Bathampton Primary School in, surprise surprise, Bathampton on the eastern outskirts of Bath. This is a lovely spot and I arrived in bright early morning sunshine in this small quaint town, with the school tucked away in a quiet lane next to the Kennett and Avon canal, complete with long rows of brightly coloured narrow boats, some of which had early morning smoke rising from their chimneys. Dotted around were gently rolling hills and it all seemed terribly pleasant. The school itself was absolutely lovely. A slowly expanding old Victorian building with various bits being added to it, including a brand new area for the reception classes that I was to open today. I was very warmly welcomed by the head teacher, a very friendly charming man who kept referring to me as a celebrity - I think he needs to get out more! I was with a nice class today, mostly year 3's with a few year 2's thrown in to keep me on my toes. The opening talk was fun, loud and enthusiastically received. Loads of laughs and some fun ad libs as people made surprised unscheduled appearances in the hall. After the mid morning tea break I was then called upon in my "celebrity" status - I had been asked to cut the ribbon on the opening of the new reception class rooms. I was very honoured to be asked to do this and was introduced to the crowd before making my entrance. There was a big group of dignitaries including most of the Governors I would imagine and the local vicar, as well as all of the children from the other classes. I made a quick speech and then cut the ribbon as various cameras flashed away. The children then sang me a song, which was very nice, before I was presented with a thank you card from the reception class and a bottle of wine! I could get used to this celebrity malarkey! After this interlude I was back in the hall with my group for the Tudor quiz before we launched into a very loud and enthusiastic jousting tournament. It was close all the way, but ended with the Gents storming to a well deserved victory. This makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 10 LADIES

Good stuff. The children then sang me another couple of Tudor songs and one little lad showed his early talent by playing Greensleeves on the piano, and then that was that! I packed away and headed for home while the children got stuck into a Tudor banquet. What a fantastic lovely friendly school! The drive home was pleasant and relatively quick. Tomorrow I am going to be up and early for another return visit to Dean Close Prep School in Cheltenham. Should be fun. But to Bathampton, thank you for a really memorable and pleasant day.

Mistletoe Fayre 2011 pt 2

2011-11-27T19:15:00.004Z

The sort of image to make single women quake in their shoes. Good King Hal clutching mistletoe and beginning to pucker up at Barrington Court. Ooh, nasty...

Day two of the Mistletoe Fayre 2011 dawned with piercing bright morning sunlight. Lovely! Today I was to be a lone King - no Diane or Zarrina to keep me company, it just wasn't the same without them, but fun none the less. With no pensioner afflicted trips to a local petrol station this morning I arrived at Barrington Court more or less on time today. Once changed into my "frock" I started my rounds of the Court House. It was much less busy today - Matthew Applegate reckoned on there being nearly 900 people through the door for the first day. I would estimate today's number being more in the range of 500, but all the stalls seemed to be doing great business.

I had some fun chatting with Rachel Brewer, Barrington's own "pommelier" and she was joined on her stall by the fair Sarah. The mulled cider tasted as good as yesterday, if not better and really did chase the cold out of your system. We had more musician's today, who added some real atmosphere to the event, and towards the end of the day I was presented with an old fur coat by the lovely lady on the wool stall. She said I could use it to add to any new costumes, which was very kind and generous of her. She then scored even better marks by giving me a nice kiss under the mistletoe. Now that's what I call service.

Back home to watch Manchester City draw with Liverpool and re-affirm my belief that Mario Ballotelli is a prime example of inverse ratio between size of wallet and size of brain, and then to settle down with a nice bottle of Shiraz and watch a repeat of "Ripping Yarns" on TV. Smashing! My next Henry outing is on Wednesday this week with a first ever visit to Bathampton School in Bath.

Mistletoe Fayre 2011 pt 1

2011-11-26T20:47:00.005Z

Good King Hal being an exemplary model of grown up behaviour for a couple of impressionable young fans. Don't worry though, their parents sorted him out in the car park later.

The Mistletoe Fayre was back at Barrington Court again! It must mean Christmas is a coming. To be honest if you believed what you see in the High Street and on TV, Christmas has been a coming since about June. I am amazed there aren't any Easter Eggs in the shops already. On the Friday evening I had been at Barrington Court again for the annual South Somerset National Trust Pub Quiz which I run each year. A good time was seemed to be had by all and there was not a hint of controversy this time around. My mate Matthew Applegate's team won last year prompting cries of foul and that I had been feeding Matthew the questions in our various visits to the local pubs. This year all that nonsense was banished from people's minds as Matthew's team limped home in last place.

So I was due to be up and early on the Saturday morning for the short trip to Barrington. I wanted to be there early as my friends Zarrina Bull and Diane Collings (who had appeared with me at Leeds Castle and Hever Castle during the summer) were going to come down for their first appearance at Barrington Court, and I wanted to welcome them on their arrival. However, I slept through my alarm and woke late. I got ready and shot over to Barrington stopping for a brief period at Merriott for petrol. WRONG. There were only two people ahead of me in the queue, both ladies, both pensioners. The first was purchasing a small bouquet of flowers - she didn't know the price. The lady behind the counter didn't know the price. Hell, even I didn't know what the fecking price was. Finally someone ventured outside to look at the prices on the flowers. Sorted. No. Now she wanted to know if they had any Daily Mail's left as there were none outside. This was taking forever. Finally they assured her that there were no Daily Mail's left and she herself vacated the counter. One person in front of me. She wasn't buying any fuel either, she was interested in the cheap and cheerful thermal socks the garage were selling, but she could only find one pair in her size. Thus a box had to be produced from out the back and the staff went through it slowly, looking for another pair of fecking socks in her fecking size. You could feel the arms on my watch spinning round like helicopter rotors as time roared on. I finally paid and was on my way. Hopefully Barrington wouldn't be too busy. ARGH! Wrong again. It was a massive heaving mass of National Trust members and their cars. I simply had nowhere to park and finally resorted in just abandoning my car on the grass verge where the avenue of chestnut trees used to be. Not very environmental or proper, but I had to put the car somewhere, I couldn't just eat it. Hopefully my tardy arrival would not be noticed. As I walked in through the front door, one of the stall holders called out "'Ere, Henry! Your two wives are looking for you!" Which kind of let me know that Zarrina and Diane were here already.

Yes, indeed they were and they looked stunning in their new costumes - Zarrina in a home made purple dress which looked stunning, and Diane in a Tudor dress she had purchased from Ebay but had massively altered herself to get it into shape. We had a lovely time wandering the halls and rooms of Barrington and the ladies really seemed to enjoy themselves. They certainly added some fun and laughter to the day. We had a pile of photos taken, some of which I shall place on this blog when I get them. I have never seen the Mistletoe Fayre as busy as it was this year, so long may that flourish. It was a fun, tiring day all round and a delight to work with Zarrina and Diane again. Tomorrow won't be the same without them. We finished about 4pm and I was glad to be home, but I am looking forward to part two tomorrow. And Rachel Brewer's mulled cider was STUNNING!

Back to Parkfield

2011-11-24T21:10:00.003Z

Good King Hal helping to hold up a troublesome wall at Barrington Court. If you go there and it's fallen down then you know it's his fault. As most other things seem to be these days.

My visits to schools in Somerset in the last few weeks have really been spoiling me. After the delight of returning to Dunster last week, I was back at one of my favourite haunts in Taunton - Parkfield Primary near Musgrove Park Hospital. The head teacher there is the near legendary Wynford Sides, a name of Charles Dickens' style quality. I was to encounter another cracking name before the end of the day, but more of that later. Quite a bit of building work has gone on at Parkfield in the past couple of years and the place looks really good now. They have a fine looking gazebo for the children to sit in which in the early morning light this morning looked fabulous as it was tastefully lit up from inside. I am also insanely jealous as they also have two fine cricket nets set up on the side of their playing field now. Very nice! I was soon in the staff room enjoying a welcoming cup of tea and a chat with the ever affable Mr Sides. Soon I was re-introduced to Year 5 teacher Mrs Nightingale and she told me we had a lively group today of about 66 children. It was a lovely morning - full of laughter and fun. A really delightful group to work with, which is pretty much par for the course with Parkfield School which surely must have something to do with Mr Sides' rules and style of management. He has been at Parkfield since September 1987 and long may he remain there.

As ever at this lovely school one of the staff had gone to Tesco to grab me some lunch, and would not accept any money for my food. I had a very agreeable chicken salad sandwich followed by a crisp sharply sweet Braeburn apple. Also in the staff room today was a pile of homemade cakes, so I had to have a bash on some of the flapjacks, and they were stunning! The finest I had ever tasted.

Back in the hall after lunch I was doing the talk about Tudor crime and punishment, and the little chap I had picked out the audience to be my unfortunate victim of the beggars punishment had the colourful name of Dylan Thrasher - you just can't write stuff like that, can you? The jousting was equally colourful and noisy and finished with the gentlemen finally winning a tournament - the first in a long time. They are still lagging behind, but have closed the gap at last. Our score now is:

GENTLEMEN 8 - 10 LADIES

The next chance they get to win again is next Wednesday at Bathampton School, near Bath. Tomorrow night I am at Barrington Court hosting their annual Pub Quiz event for the South Somerset National Trust. I have another good quiz lined up for them and hope they enjoy it. This weekend I will also be at Barrington Court as it is the annual Mistletoe Fayre which is always a delight to appear at. Hopefully see some of you there.

How Very Parochial

2011-11-23T16:25:00.004Z

The Mona Lisa before she had a shave. Notice how the eyes follow you round the room? That's detached retina's, that is...

The school I was visiting on Tuesday, has to have one of my favourite names of any school I go to. This was the delightfully named Amberley Parochial Village School. Anything with the name parochial in it immediately sets me to thinking about Father Ted. But rather than being marooned on the shores of Craggy Island, Amberley is a beautiful Cotswold village, halfway up a big hill in Gloucestershire near Stroud. Strong Laurie Lee country which is always good news for me. However, as the dark morning drive up from Somerset gave way to a pale early light, I might as well have been in Catford for all the scenery I could see. Fog, fog, thick, thick fog. My previous visit to Amberley had been back in 2009 and on that day I had arrived on a piercingly bright autumnal morning. My arrival on Tuesday was in a thick fug of dampness and low visibility. However, the warmth of my welcome was as nice and generous as had ever been. Miss Hyland who booked me at this school was there again and I was soon gulping down generous cups of tea whilst setting up in their charming hall. The group of children, year 3 and 4 combined, were mostly good natured and fun to work with. One little girl burst into tears as soon as I started and continued in this fashion for the rest of the day - usually spending most of her time with her fingers in her ears, but she did laugh a lot as well folks, don't think me some kind of sadistic monster.

On my previous visit to this school I'd had to take a drive out to purchase some lunch, and what with their being no local shop my choice of sandwiches had been reduced to some curling relics on the shelf of a nearby petrol station. Therefore, forewarned against this I had come fully armed this day with a tin of mulligatawny soup (made with real owls) and some crusty bread. Lunch was very warming and spicy and went down a treat.

The afternoon was a little fractured and unsmooth due to a late start back in the hall, and then having to finish very promptly for an end of school assembly. The jousting was fun but ended controversially when a very good lads team had to be disqualified for blatant rule breaking - not a popular decision on my behalf, but rules is rules folks. So with the ladies winning by default the score on our accumulator is now:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 10 LADIES

They're getting away again and the lads are on a bit of a slippery slope it seems. I began the drive home slightly worried - I was driving down one of the hills when my car seemed to start making an alarming metallic grinding noise, almost akin to an angle grinder. I soon located the noise - a man in a garden very close to the road using an angle grinder. Ah, that would be it then. Silly me. I got home in the evening and watched a rather poor Manchester City get deservedly beaten by Napoli in the Champions League, and thence to bed. Did some voice over work for my friend Greg Stevens at Radio Sherborne this morning, and then out again tonight. Tomorrow is a return to another of my favourite schools with my annual visit to Parkfield Junior in Taunton and the near legendary Mr Wynford Sides. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Dunster and Dunsterer...

2011-11-16T09:22:00.003Z

A lonely ancient mottled thing in the gardens of Barrington Court. And behind him is a sun dial.

Cough. Cough - wheeze - splutter. Gad! Will this horrible chesty cough EVER finally clear off? I have no other symptoms of a cold now - not a thing. But this cough... If I try and laugh at anything I end up hacking away as if I am about to barf up a lung. But all that aside I was in good heart for an early morning start and a drive over to Dunster near Minehead. This was the eighth year in a row I had visited this fine school and as ever I was really looking forward to it. The weather was bright and clear first thing and I made good progress even through that perennial bottle neck called Taunton. As I approached Dunster itself the elegant castle perched on it's rocky outcrop above the town was being picked out, spotlight style, by the first rays of the morning sun - it looked beautiful. As I pulled up at the rear entrance to the school I was greeted by three of the teachers I had seen over the previous years. Coming to Dunster is like coming back to an extended family - everyone is so welcoming. I got set up in the hall, got changed and then awaited the children. It was a small group today, just about 25 of them, all year 4's, but impeccably behaved and some of them showing a very good knowledge of the Tudors. Lunch at Dunster was, as ever, a real treat - home made lasagna with crusty bread and a crisp green salad on the side. I sat with the head teacher, Mr Hoyland, and we got on like a house on fire as we always seem to, even if he is an Arsenal fan.

Back in the hall after lunch I had invited the year 3 group to come and watch the jousting as I would be seeing them the following year. This injection of more children and the appearance of several more teachers managed to push the volume level up through the roof and we ended up with a brilliant tournament. Honours again went to a very fine ladies team who galloped away to a deserved victory. Our score is now:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 9 LADIES

Normal service is now resumed.

I drove back in a fairly easy untroubled way and then spent the evening with Matthew Applegate at the Duke of York Pub in Shepton Beauchamp being told various ribald old jokes by Geoff the Builder. Splendid! I shall be going to visit my friend Pete Flanagan today to see how he is getting on recovering from his car accident. Perhaps like Stan Laurel I should bring him hard boiled eggs and walnuts.

Dr Walker's, Fyfield

2011-11-11T19:51:00.005Z

Good King Hal, attempting to blend in with the autumnal foliage so that he can leap out on unsuspecting females, whilst clutching a huge ripe courgette, screaming "LOOK OUT MISSUS! THE MARTIANS HAVE LANDED!" It's a hobby, I suppose.

The long week with the never ending coughing fit continued apace with a first visit to the wonderfully named Dr Walker's Junior School in Fyfield, near Ongar in Essex. I think this week was another "first" as all four schools I did this week were new to me - I had never visited any of them before. Quite a rarity these days. My drive over to Ongar from Basildon was not as straightforward as it should be. The usual route would be to cut through Wash Road and Lower Road in Mountnessing - the very road I grew up in! However, halfway down Wash Road they are doing huge great earth moving things, and the road is completely closed. So I thought I would be smart and would cut down through Billericay and go via the back roads round St Giles' Church on the outskirts of Mountnessing (where I got married BTW - I hope you're all making notes about this). All those roads were closed as well. What the hell is going on? Are they extending the Central Line on London Underground? Anyway, I eventually had to drive up to Ingatestone and cut through to Fyfield via Fryerning - all very picturesque and nice, but hardly an expressway. I finally found Dr Walker's School - not a posh private school as the name seemed to suggest, but a very pleasant, relatively modern state school. I was warmly welcomed by the staff, particularly Gemma Smith who had booked me, and was soon in the main hall with the children. It was a small group, only about 25 children, but they were quite a handful - prone to shouting out and getting carried away with the excitement. But they were on the whole very nice children. We had a really fun morning which seemed to shoot past, and the only real headache was my occasional coughing fits with the remnants of my cold. Lunch was a lovely big baked jacket spud drowned in beans and cheese - Nom! Nom! Nom! Had a pleasant chat with one of the senior teachers at the school, a lady who had worked at the same school for the past 30 years. Blimey, she needed either a medal or shooting. There was also a very friendly supply teacher there, a nice chap from Braintree who bore a worrying resemblance to Pa Boswell from the comedy series "Bread".

The afternoon was amazingly loud for such a small group - in fact the group had got even smaller as some of the children had gone off to a cross country tournament. Lucky them... (not). We finished with another amazing jousting tournament, they've all been very memorable this week. This ended with another victory for the ladies. Our score is now:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 8 LADIES

The boys winning streak hasn't lasted long and the ladies are back in the lead again. More to come this week with my next visit being to Dunster School next Tuesday.

I drove back to Somerset this morning after dropping my beloved son James at school. He cuddled up in bed with me last night which was lovely. I know he is getting older so rapidly now and these wonderful innocent times won't last forever, so I make the most of them while I can now, treasuring every second he still considers me cool. He's about the only person who does. He seems hell bent on trying to be a comedian and makes up jokes sometimes. But these are usually jokes utterly devoid of humour - but being a good Daddy I tend to laugh at them anyway. His current favourite self penned joke is: Why did the Alligator punch the car? Because he felt like it. BA-DOOM-TISH! I thank you. And you lot thought my jokes were lame? Now you know who I have passed the genes on to...

Mike Farley, Good King Hal - a singularity in Somerset, News at Ten.

If It's Tuesday It Must Be Thorpe St Andrew...

2011-11-09T19:15:00.006Z

An image giving a rough estimate of the amount of mileage covered by Good King Hal this week, and his current whereabouts.

Having four shows in four days would be enough to test the physical stamina and mental fortitude of someone in the peak of physical fitness, of a young age and without porridge for a brain. Which was a real shame as I entered this week full of cold, self doubt and feeling every day of my 44 years of age. I drove up to Essex on the Sunday and saw my beloved James. As usual I received the now traditional welcome of being thrashed mercilessly at Mario Kart on the Wii Console by him, but it was good fun none the less. I was up at the crack of dawn the following morning for a drive up to Melbourn (no, not the one in Australia as that has an "E" attached on the end), but is a small place near Royston which is either in Hertfordshire or Cambridgeshire, depending on who you speak to. Melbourn Primary School was an absolute delight - friendly, welcoming and with a nice bunch of children. I felt like death warmed up on my first arrival at the school, but by pouring large amounts of Lemsip down my throat I managed to assume a vague appearance of humanity. A splendid day was had all round with lots of laughs and ended up with a great jousting tournament that culiminated with another victory for the gentlemen. This made our scores for the year:

GENTLEMEN 6 - 6 LADIES

So the Gents finally pull level for about the first time in over two years. Heart stopping excitement, eh? Eh? Oh wake up for goodness sake. The Monday evening I drove over to Hitcham in Suffolk to see Sue English and Ian Weston, my old friends who run the brilliant Portals to the Past group of re-enactors. I was warmly welcomed by Sue and later on Ian arrived and we ended up heading down to Hadleigh in Suffolk where they treated me to a delicious Indian meal. It was great fun catching up with my old friends and sharing stories about our re-enactment experiences.

The following morning Ian and I were both heading up to Norwich to do shows - Ian in central Norwich and me to Thorpe St Andrew in the north eastern suburbs and St William's School. This was another new school for me and this one was another wonderful find. If possible they were even more friendly than the previous day at Royston and the children here were brilliant. So funny! The absolute highlight of a lovely day was when during the question and answer session at the end of the morning some of the children asked me questions about different sports in Tudor times. One little girl asked was it true they used a pigs bladder when they played football, and I assured her it was true. They'd remove the bladder, empty it, steam it, turn it inside out and then stitch it up and inflate it, before kicking it around. Sounds delightful. A moment later another little girl asked about the pigs bladder, only this time she asked "did it hurt?" - I told her it didn't do the pig any good, which reduced the teachers to tears. The little girl had meant did it hurt kicking the bladder, but it was too good a feed line to miss. Another child asked if the Tudor's ever used children for jousting, but I assured him they only used horses. Our joust was another classic and wound up for another victory for the Gents. Unbelievable stuff. So after so many years of trailing in the ladies wake, by half way through this week the Lads find themselves in the uncharted waters of leading! The score after Tuesday was:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 6 LADIES

I drove back down the delightful rain and lunatic addled A12 and back to see my lovely son James again. But there is no let up this week for the wicked old King. After another brief night of sleep I was again up with the lark (and still down with the lurghi) and driving this morning towards the Eastern coastal paradise that is known as Harwich. As I drove up the A120 in the early morning grey light I pondered as to when I last visited this town. I reckoned my last visit had been in 1975, when at the age of 8 I had travelled with my family at the start of a holiday in France by going to Harwich to catch a ferry, and staying in the deliciously named "VIKING MOTOR LODGE" or something. It was every bit as grotty as the name suggests, but I was just so excited to be on holiday and staying somewhere that had the name VIKING in the title. I had a little trouble in finding the school this morning - the Mayflower Junior. My sat nav took me to a school, but the wrong one. I eventually found what I was looking for and managed to park my car right by the back doors to the large hall. Another welcoming cup of steaming Lemsip helped my human being impersonation again. Once more I was welcomed by lovely staff and some great kids - all in brilliant costumes, something that every wonderful school this week has managed. We had a really fun day and despite my cough nearly knackering me this afternoon I managed to make it through without too much hassle. We had a fine jousting tournament which went right to the wire but was won by a brilliant ladies team. And so we find ourselves level again:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 7 LADIES

And all that and one more school to do tomorrow this week. I am off to Fyfield tomorrow near Ongar for a first visit to the delightfully named Dr Walker's Church of England School. Should be more fun.

As some of you may or may not know I had recently started dating someone. This was the first time I had managed something like this since about the mid 17th Century and I was jolly pleased with myself, particularly as the other person was particularly attractive - the words "punching" "above" and "weight" came readily to mind. However, I am back to my usual status again as this situation has now come to a close. So women of Britain, be aware - I AM SINGLE AGAIN! Yes! Lock your doors, hide under stairs, hammer large bits of wood crookedly across windows and doors... Unless of course you are interested in dating a man who looks about 400 years old, is ginger, so large he appears on Ordnance Survey maps as a shipping hazard and wears tights for a living. Gosh, you can see why I am constantly fighting the women off, can't you? As I only ever seem to find a woman who is brave enough to date me once every five years, I am thoroughly looking forward to a brief two week period in 2016 when I shall be able to take a lady out to dinner three times. And when you look like me, that's about as good as it gets! GOODNIGHT EVERYBODY!

Return to Knightwood

2011-11-03T21:52:00.003Z

"And that" said Good King Hal with a certain glint in his eye, "is when you know you have the woodworm completely surrounded. Now release the hounds!"

Ah, dear old Knightwood Junior in Chandlers Ford. Chandlers Ford? Why would candle makers want to have a ford? Answers on a post card please to: Candle Makers And Their Ford (Not a car), Good King Hal, c/o Hampton Court Palace, Hampton Court Palace Road, Near the maze, London. Anyway, whilst pondering that, dear reader, also ponder on this - today's visit was my 7th appearance at this lovely school. SEVEN? I can't believe it. The drive down was, in comparison with the forced march to Ventnor on Sunday evening was a doddle. I arrived at about 7.45am and was soon inside and re-introduced to the caretaker of the school, the highly esteemed Lee. This gentleman is a real gem (I have to say all this as I know he reads this blog - hello Lee!). As ever he warmly welcomed me and soon had a welcoming cup of tea in my hands. What a star.

It was a lovely group again today - about 60 kids, the vast majority of them in fabulous Tudor costumes, and though they had only recently started their topic there were some real gems of Tudor knowledge out there already. True, there were also subtle moments of gob-smacking daftness as well. For instance when I was explaining about Henry and other rich Tudor's eating habits, I mentioned about some of their nasty habits of over-eating and then...er..."purging" themselves by forcing a long feather down their throats. I began this innocently enough by just showing the children a long feather and asking them what they think Henry did with this long feather half way through a meal. There were the usual answers such as "write a letter" and "tickle his tummy", but I told them he tickled something else with it. One little girl then shouted out in a triumphant voice that she knew the answer - Henry very obviously stops a heavy meal to nip outside and tickle a horse with a feather. It was so blatantly obvious I was amazed I had never thought of it before. The genius of children.

The afternoon session was a pleasure and ended with an inevitably loud jousting tournament that ended with another victory for the gentlemen. This makes our latest score:

GENTLEMEN 5 - 6 LADIES

The drive home was frequently threatened with lumpen grey skies that promised vast amounts of rain. But there was the occasional downpour, but nothing long term. Eventually the weather cleared and my journey was rewarded with a quite stunning sunset as I drove along the A303. A lovely end to a good day.

I am up to Essex on Sunday to see my lovely son, James, then I have shows at Royston, Norwich, Harwich and Fyfield on the Monday through to the Thursday. I shall be rich and exhausted.

The Long March

2011-10-31T22:40:00.002Z

Good King Hal attempting to finish his cocktail whilst pretending to play a stunning Tudor tune on his dordrecht. Dirty boy.

There have been a few miles added to my car in recent weeks. I had been to Leeds Castle a couple of weeks back for an evening corporate do - I wasn't actually on until about 10pm, and then only briefly, but the group seemed to enjoy it, even the Italians who were there and didn't speak much English. Shortly after this it was half term and I was off with my lovely son James for a visit to his grandparent's house in Wales for a few days. We had a great time and James even managed to produce a fabulous oil painting with my father of his cat Dru. It turned out to be a true masterpiece and now has pride of place in his Mum's front room. It was also nice to find James getting on so well with his reading, something he was really struggling with till recently. Whereas before when he would do anything to avoid reading in front of us he now almost has to be reigned back in, such is his desire to show off his new skills. Bless him.

After a brief day in Somerset to try and catch up on life, I was off down to the Isle of Wight again for a return visit to St Francis' School in Ventnor, only this time, my life was going to be a lot easier as the teacher from my previous visit Hannah Larkin, had offered me a room for the night before. Therefore there would be no getting up in the wee small hours for me - oh no! No, I would have a nice gentle drive down on Sunday afternoon, enjoy a relaxed crossing of the Solent and then pootle across the island to Ventnor, enjoy a large glass of wine or some such, exchange a few bon mottes with my hosts and then sleep a long restful sleep, safe in the knowledge there would be no early morning rushing about. Well, that was the plan. I left Crewkerne at about 4.30pm, booked as I was for the 6.30pm crossing from Lymington to Yarmouth. The weather was a bit grim - a mixture of rain and fog in places, but I made steady if unspectacular progress. That was until I got on the area of road between Wimborne and Bournemouth where the traffic ground to a halt. Various emergency service vehicles roared past us as we sat there - a huge smash shortly further up the road had closed the carriageway in both directions. Time plodded on and after an hour it was pretty clear I had missed the 6.30pm crossing. It was just after this that the Police came along announcing that the road would remained shut for some time and we had to turn round and find an alternative route. I cut across country for a while, but loads of other people had the same idea and masses of cars suddenly descending on narrow country lanes in fog and rain was a recipe for problems, and so it proved. After less than five miles there had been two other minor shunts as cars bumped into each other. I tried various turnings down anonymous pitch dark country lanes and succeeded in merely finding myself back on the blocked main road I had started on. I headed back to the last major junction I had gone across before heading onto the cursed road only to find this gridlocked with cars descending on it from all directions. I'd just about had enough by now, so I gave up and headed back home. By the time I got back home I had found I had driven just over 100 miles and got precisely nowhere. I phoned Hannah on the Isle of Wight and she encouraged me to try again by a different route later as the ferries ran until quite late into the night, so after a quick bite to eat I set out again, this time along the A303 to the A36 and then head down towards the ferry via Salisbury. All was going well and I arrived finally at the ferry terminal at about 22.32 to discover that the previous boat had sailed at 22.30 and the next one was not due until 23.59. Bugger. Buggerbuggerbugger. I phoned Hannah again and she sounded exhausted and near sleep, so she couldn't guarantee there would be anyone up to meet me when I arrived. I finally crossed the inky black Solent and was on the island, but this then necessitated a 45 minute drive from Yarmouth to Ventnor. Hannah sent me another message saying if there was no reply when I arrived she would leave the front door open and lights to lead me through the house to my room. That made sense. I found the house and called the mobile number, but inevitably there was no reply. So I wandered up the driveway in rain spotted darkness to be confronted by a front door left wedged open and a series of lights up a range of stairs. I walked slowly up the stairs praying that this was the right house and I wasn't about to be confronted on the steps by some irate home owner with a shotgun and a real bad attitude towards Tudor impersonators turning up in the middle of the night. I found my room, clambered into bed and fell into a deep and very welcoming sleep. It had taken me until quarter past one in the morning to get to Ventnor from a 4.15pm start. Now that was a Long March. Eat your heart out, Chairman Mao.

After that sort of start the actual day at the school could only be a bit of an anticlimax. They were an odd little group of kids today - relatively quiet and not seeming really on the ball. But they laughed in some of the right places and even fed me one of my best comic lines in ages. I was doing the question and answer session just before lunch when one little lad pointed to my new big shiny blingy ring on my right hand and asked me why I was wearing a girls ring on my right hand. I told him it was my feminine side. This garnered me a round of applause from the teachers. Thank you! The cheque is in the post. The afternoon whizzed past and culminated in a stunning win for the ladies in a fine jousting tournament. This makes our score for the year now:

GENTLEMEN 4 - 6 LADIES

The drive home threatened to be as bad as the drive down to the island with stark warnings on the radio about appalling traffic on the A31 AND the A303, but luckily by the time I got to the A303 it was clear and I shot through to Crewkerne and found myself at home before 7pm. Heaven. I made a few phone calls, ate some dinner, watched a bit of TV and comforted myself that being three floors up in my flat and with a broken front door bell I wouldn't be disturbed by bloody trick or treaters. And very soon I intend to go to bed and sleep until my name becomes Rip Van Good King Hal. Next show is on Thursday with a return visit to the lovely Knightwood School in Chandlers Ford.

Oh, and I nearly forgot - Manchester United 1 Manchester City 6. Bliss!

Royal Wedding!

2011-10-17T22:41:00.002+01:00

The entire West End cast gurning outside Northcote House at Sunningdale Park! The handsome devil standing behind the King is the Groom, Mr Roland "Man of a Thousand Audio Descriptions" Bearne.

Just a quickie my friends. On the 9th October 2011 my very good friend Roland Bearne married the delightful Sallie Stone at Northcote House in Sunningdale Park and they very kindly invited me to come along and be announcer/master of ceremonies for the day as Henry. It was a fantastic wedding and a good day all round. The evening reception was wonderful as well as a whole load of the Knights of Royal England jousting team turned up and made a proper party of it. It was one of the finest weddings I have ever been to and Roland and Sallie made a wonderful couple - thank you both for a very memorable day!

St Cecillia's Junior, North Cheam

2011-10-05T20:12:00.004+01:00

Mary, Queen of Scots, busking outside Hampton Court just before being moved along by the Police and her subsequent triumphant residency at Fotheringay Castle.

If it's October then it must be a visit to St Cecillia's RC Junior School in North Cheam, near Sutton in Surrey. This was my EIGHTH appearance at the school, if you can believe it. Eight long years since I first arrived there. Of course coming all the way from Somerset does warrant a bit of an early start, to say the least. When the alarm clock went off at 4am it was a bit of a shock to the system. However, having said that, there is no finer time of the day to be driving up the A303 - the place is decidedly quiet and empty and all the better for it. I made very good time and was soon on the M3. This is really the only part of the journey where one might hit trouble and sure enough it was very busy, even at 6am in the morning. It made a change to turn onto the M25 and find it was a quieter road. It would be like moving to Kabul and finding there were less explosions there. Mind you, if you lived in Basildon during the November 5th period, then it might just work.

St Cecillia's is a fine school and it was a delight to be back - I was warmly welcomed as ever by their friendly care taker. I have absolutely no idea who this gentleman is, but he is always a delight to talk to and is welcoming and friendly. He let me drive my car in and unload the props, and then it was time for a very welcoming cup of tea. I was then introduced to the two teachers looking after Year 4 at St Cecillia's this year - two new ladies who had never seen my show before. They were dressed in their Tudor finery as were all the children. It was a group of about 60 pupils, all full of beans and dying to know more about Henry VIII. During the morning session I was telling the children about the horrors of the plague hitting Tudor England and about some of the insane "cures" people tried to come up with, one of which was they thought the plague was being spread by cats and dogs. So they slaughtered all the cats and dogs, and of course the rats (whose fleas were really spreading the plague and were having their numbers kept down by the cats and dogs) quadrupled in their population size and the plague got ten times worse. Well, I had just mentioned this information when a little lad put his hand up with a question - I asked him what it was. He said "what about the tigers?" I was a bit confused. Tigers? Yes, he meant tigers. What about them? Well, he said, they're a type of cat, so what happened to them? This really tickled me. I suddenly had all these ideas of the Tudors keeping Tigers as pets. i.e. taking them for walks and being horribly mutilated/trying to put the cat out for the night and more mutilations. Great stuff.

I munched some lunch in the staff room then it was back for more amazing Tudor revelations. I was doing my musical talky bit and playing my instruments and I was asked by one child if all the Tudors were musical, I mused that they probably were to a lesser or greater degree. Another child put his hand up. Yes? Did any of them play the spoons he asked. I told him Mary, Queen of Scots was a sod for whipping the spoons out at most social gatherings. I did various impressions of her singing such great Tudor melodies as "Take Me Back to Dear Old Blighty" and "Let's All Go Down the Strand, Have a Banana". The jousting was good, but ruined in the final by the gents team cheating unashamedly and thus being disqualified. This let a very good ladies side in for an easy win. Our score is now:

GENTLEMEN 4 - 5 LADIES

I am next on parade at this weekend for my mate Roland Bearne's wedding in Surrey. Should be lots of fun.

Today has been nice and relaxing, I did some shopping over at Tesco's at Ilminster and was alarmed to discover that Uncle Peter from the "Smell of Reeves and Mortimer" had decided to have a sex change operation and then work on one of the tills there. DONKEY! It's amazing who you meet.

St Paul's School, Shepton Mallet

2011-10-03T20:36:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal blowing a raspberry on the back of Anne Boleyn's hand.

The weather is very slowly coming back round to being the correct temperature for this time of year. But it was still uncomfortably hot today for my latest visit to St Paul's Junior School in Shepton Mallet. Thank the Lord for air conditioning in cars, that's all I can say. The drive up the A37 can be a bit of a bind sometimes, but today wasn't too bad at all. I arrived at the school almost smack on 8am and parked round the rear near their outdoor swimming pool. I signed in and soon had everything loaded into the main hall. The staff are so generous and kind at this school and they soon had me supplied with cups of tea, jugs of water and somewhere to get changed for the show. I was put on hold for a while as a school assembly took place, but was soon out and on show as the day began. They were a very lively bunch - about 60 of them all from year 4, and full of giggles - almost too many at times. It was a fine and loud morning - I got changed into my civvies for the lunch, which turned out to be a very tasty quiche, but I sat in with the children in the dining hall for this. Not a good move. Frequent cries of "HENRY!" or the more puzzling one of "You know you're not the real Henry VIII!" - as though I wasn't aware, constantly ringing in my ears.

The afternoon was equally deafening and ended with a good jousting tournament. This got off to a slightly truncated start when during the first gents race both teams managed to get themselves disqualified - a first for me! I re-started the race and we got on our way. It was closely fought throughout but ended with another win for the Gentlemen. So our scores are now all square again.

GENTLEMEN 4 - 4 LADIES

A nice drive back through the warm early evening sunshine. I cooked a pasta bolognese containing Quorn mince for my dinner. I am sorry, I have really tried to like it, but Quorn just tastes disgusting. Not for me any more.

Tomorrow it is a very early start for a drive up to St Cecillia's School in North Cheam in Surrey - my EIGHTH visit to this fine school.

Chut Fest 2011, Barrington Court

2011-10-02T21:46:00.002+01:00

A Cinemascope version of a Tudor King.

The annual chutney festival at Barrington Court, lovingly known as Chut Fest, is always good fun. True it causes traffic jams (Jams? Geddit?), can get you in a pickle, (Pickle? Geddit?) but I always look forward to it with considerable relish. (Relish??? Yes, I know...). I was a little disappointed that I missed the first day on Saturday, but then I was having a splendid time at the new Museum of Somerset in Taunton, so I had a good excuse. I wasn't being saucy. (Saucy? Alright, I'll stop now). As like the previous few days at Cheltenham and Taunton, it was unseasonably hot and very humid, but luckily as the afternoon wore on a slight breeze blew up from somewhere, which was a real relief.

Loads of familiar faces at Barrington Court today, and lovely to see them all as usual. It wasn't as frantically busy as it has been at previous years, but then I think the very hot weather didn't do us any favours. People take one look at the hot weather and then leap in cars heading for the direction of the coast. I personally think they want locking up, but each to their own I suppose. Quite a few of the visitors I spoke to today had been at Taunton yesterday and one even asked if I was the same person. The same person to who? But then conversations like that get very confusing, almost as confusing as the final episode of Doctor Who last night, but lets not go there as I might start going insane.

It was good to see the "Blackdown Babes" (as they call themselves) with their fine collections of food and other exotic yummy stuff, and it was a real pleasure as ever to see the lovely Rachel Brewer, Barrington's very own "Pommelier" (that's a cider making expert to you and me!). Her little stall was bedecked with all the latest awards her fine drinks have earned her. I started at 11am today, but by 2.30pm my previous few days wandering round in a fur coat during a heat wave caught up with me, and I'd had enough. So I said my farewells and headed back to my own personal Hampton Court.

Monday see's me at St Paul's Junior in Shepton Mallet again, and Tuesday will be an early start and an 8th annual visit to St Cecillia's School in North Cheam in Surrey. Lovely. Right, I am going to really concentrate now as I am going to watch the last episode of Doctor Who again now. If you hear someone gibbering later on, it will be me trying to work it out.

St Edward's Junior, Cheltenham & Museum of Somerset

2011-10-01T21:20:00.002+01:00

Good King Hal indicating where a large UFO carrying Bigfoot, The Loch Ness Monster, Lord Lucan, Father Christmas and Cardinal Richeleu has just flown past very slowly behind the cameraman. Again.

Back up at the crack of dawn again. Yes, it's time for Good King Hal to hit the road and head up to Gloucestershire. I hadn't visited St Edward's Junior in Cheltenham before, but my crappy sat nav had by some miracle managed to find the address for the school, so it seemed to be a relatively easy hour and half drive up the M5 to find it. What I wasn't expecting was that the school was located somewhere up a very posh private lane that half way up it was a road block. Yup, a big barrier in the road for no adequately explained reason. Perhaps it was one of those ones that if you drove up to it slowly it would just raise for you. Wrong. I tried re-programming the sat nav, but it wouldn't have it - as far as she was concerned this was the way to get to the school and tough bitties if you wanted to go another way. I sat in the quiet leafy posh road scratching my head and wondering how the hell I was going to get past this. I drove back down to the main road, but my sat nav was screaming about doing a u-turn. So I turned round and went back up the posh road, and it was as I was slowly driving up this paean to capitalism that I noticed a very small worn road sign. It suggested if you wanted to get past the road barrier it was best to go in through an alternatively named road (the name escapes me at present). As my sat nav has not the best grasp on finding obscure rural roads I did wonder if it would work, but it did! I followed the directions and lo! There was the school! St Edward's Junior is a lovely school and I was very warmly welcomed by Lin Davis, the lady who booked me, and not the similarly named Olympic Long Jump champion from 1964 who also just happens to be my cousin. As is Lily Cole. But I am getting distracted. We had the main school sports hall for the entire day and it was great - a nice big hall, great acoustics and a good lively group of about 40 children. We had a fine morning, lots of laughs and good fun. Lunch was spent in the school hall being cross questioned by various children as to whether I really was the REAL Henry VIII. The afternoon was a short session, as they usually are at private schools and culminated in a very loud and enthusiastic jousting tournament. This was won by a mile by a very good ladies team. Our score for the year is now:

GENTLEMEN 3 - 4 LADIES

More intrigue. My next Henry day is on Monday with a return visit to St Paul's Junior in Shepton Mallet. Watch out for the score at the end of that.

On the Saturday I was invited back to the Museum of Somerset for their grand re-opening. As I stated in the last blog entry this re-launch of the Museum has taken about three years and millions of pounds, but it looks brilliant. Loads of interactive stuff for the kids, large airy rooms full of interesting nuggets to search out and packed with great local finds, from pre-history to the second world war. I was there as Henry, generally meeting and greeting, and then doing three half hour talks, one at 11am, one at 1pm and one at 2pm. Well over a thousand people came in during the day on this unseasonably hot 1st October. I absolutely sweltered, but it was great fun and nice to see the old place so packed full of excited new visitors. The Museum of Somerset is a big hit and well worth a visit - so get yourself to Taunton! Tomorrow I am back at Barrington Court for the Sunday of the Chut Fest 2011. See you there.

BBC Somerset, Yetminster, Somerset Museum and TIGHTS!

2011-09-29T21:16:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal attempting to hide his four and a half ton body behind a painfully thin quintaine pole. It didn't work.

YETMINSTER! Home to Yeti's. It is! Honest. Well, the Yetties actually, who if you're not entirely sure who they are, they're actually a sort of Happy Shopper version of The Wurzels, which is no great recommendation if you're a music lover. Well I was back at St Andrew's Junior School in this delightful little town/big village just over the border from Somerset into Dorset. I was last here back in September 2008 (see this blog for my rave review of the place!) and it was good to be back and welcomed by such lovely kind and friendly teachers. It was a biggish group - years 3, 4 and 5 combined for a total of about 90 kids, and they were fantastic! All but one of them had dressed up in brilliant Tudor costumes, some of which you could tell had been lovingly made by a member of their family. Great stuff. We had a fine morning, but stiflingly hot! This is supposed to be September for heaven's sake! I suppose it is God's way of letting us know that the cricket season is over. I was very grateful for a fan being supplied for me for the day which I constantly had running trying to stop me spontaneously combusting. I had a school dinner, and whilst waiting for this one of the dinner ladies came up and said "'Ere, is that padding or all you?" pointing at my stomach. Without waiting for an answer she poked me. I pretended to grab for her ample bosom saying "My turn!" I was talking to some of the other dinner ladies about my recent gall bladder health problems and my low fat diet, when they brought my dinner out - a burger, salad... and chips. Oh well. The original dinner lady who wanted to poke my midriff snorted at the sight of my dinner. "I spose you're gonna tell us them chips is low fat, eh?" Now I don't mind ultra skinny people making derogatory remarks about my ample size, but this woman could easily have worked as a body-double for the R101, so she was on no moral high ground I can tell you. "Probably not" I said, looked her up and down and said "So what's your excuse?"

The afternoon was great fun - but even hotter, and we then had the wee ones from year 2 come and join us for the final joust. It was another rollicking affair with some very closely fought contests, but finished with a win for... the Gentlemen again! This year it seems they're inseparable. Current score is:

GENTLEMEN 3 - 3 LADIES

Next Henry show in a school is on Friday at St Edward's Junior in Cheltenham. Watch this blog for the latest score and results.

Today I was in Taunton bright and early for an appearance on the BBC Somerset Emma Britton Show, except that Emma is currently off on holiday, so it was actually the Vernon Harfield Show. Vernon is a very professional presenter, but like a lot of BBC presenters seems to think that he is actually the natural heir apparent to Jeremy Paxman. Anyone he interviews he plays the Devil's Advocate and keeps asking them probing annoying questions. We were doing an interview about new electricity pylons being build across Somerset and what people felt about them, and a couple of times Vernon kept asking protesters questions like "how much extra would you be prepared to pay for no pylons and all the electrical work done in tunnels?" to which the protester would begin to answer and Vernon would leap back with "You're dodging the question - HOW MUCH??" as though he was trying to skewer a slippery Michael Howard. Chill, Vernon! After the show I walked round to Taunton Castle and the new Museum of Somerset which is reopening this week after a multi-million pound three year re-fit. I met Steve Minnitt, County Head of Museums outside, it was good to see him. And Carrie Blogg, the project manager for the whole thing was there too - hadn't seen them in ages. Inside - wow. The Museum is STUNNING. The money has been well spent and it is breath taking. I shall give a proper report of it on Saturday when I am appearing there for a couple of shows. Great stuff. It was nice to see the original scroll that I signed at the launch of the project there on display with all it's signatures. It was partially unrolled at the top so that all you could really see was the signatures of Mick Aston, Tony Robinson and Helen Geake from Time Team - and ME! Fame at last. In the afternoon I nipped over to Yeovil for some new tights - a King's outfit is not complete without fresh tights!

Even now this evening it is still sweltering here. After Cheltenham, I am at the Museum of Somerset on Saturday, and then at Barrington Court for the Chut Fest 2011 on Sunday. Hope to see lots of people there, especially if this weather continues.

South Green Billericay and a perfect time to PARTY.

2011-09-25T20:07:00.002+01:00

Good King Hal, just checking his roof for nesting Catholics. As you can see, he was on his way to the stock exchange. The writer of this blog would like to apologise for the previous joke, it was nicked with much love from a very reasonably priced Christmas cracker.

Good heavens! Back in Essex again. There should be a law against this sort of thing. It was lovely to see my son again and he took great delight and no little time in once again thrashing me at Mario Kart on the Wii. I also let him scoff large amounts of my Chinese take away on the Thursday evening. What a nice Daddy I am. On the Friday morning I was off over to South Green Junior in Billericay for my fifth visit to this lovely school in as many years. Once more I was very warmly welcomed, only this time with words of warning by the fine teachers there - the group I was to see were apparently quite....er... challenging, which is I think the P.C. and polite way of saying they were quite a handful. So I was a little nervous about what to expect - but I really needn't have worried, they were a lovely group all in all! We had great fun in the morning session and even though the children had only relatively recently begun studying the Tudors properly, they showed tremendous early knowledge. Lunch was that lovely good old fashioned Friday staple of primary schools - fish fingers and chips! Back in the hall we had a fairly riotous afternoon session culminating in the inevitable roof-lifting jousting tournament. The final outcome was another victory for the ladies - their first for three schools. Our on-going score now reads:

GENTLEMEN 2 - 3 LADIES

I am next on show as every one's favourite Tudor despot with an appearance at Yetminster in Dorset. Look out for a blog coming your way soon.

Saturday morning I took James into town for breakfast, and he insisted on going to McDonald's. He was only out of the will during the meal, don't worry. Saturday evening I was down at my sister's and brother-in-law's house for my sister's birthday party. Her 46th birthday - yeah, that's right - 46th. Poor old dear. I should have bought her a zimmer frame and some dentures. The party was lovely, just a smallish gathering of close friends and with lots to drink and eat. Among those attending were Michelle Coda and her other half Matt (late of Hever Castle jousting tournaments!), and her cute daughter Victoria; John and Viv Rich who had only just got back from their holiday in Somerset where I had seen them last week; and Ann and Dave Turner-Maynard from Chelmsford who are always great fun to be around - so a splendid time was guaranteed for all. I drank an industrial amount of good red wine and felt tremendoushly schplendid for it (hic). A truly memorable and fun party.

I drove back to Somerset this late morning feeling slightly fragile, but as the day has progressed so I have got better and better. In fact I feel just about strong enough now to go to bed.

Cheshire, Oldbury and beyond

2011-09-22T10:18:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal, walking through the streets of Bridport with a large tree growing out of his head.

It is always nice in this business to visit new areas that you don't really know. So what did I know about Cheshire? Grinning cats? Check. Some sort of cheese? Check. Home for a lot of overpaid morons living in posh houses chasing inflated pigs bladders round a field? Check. Well, there you have it! All you need to know about Cheshire. I am of course, joking. I really honestly didn't know what to expect. I was heading for Nantwich near Crewe, which to a soft southerner like myself conjured up images of shunting yards and industrial landscapes. How wrong I was! True the weather when I drove up on the Monday was filthy - pouring with rain and miserable as sin. But the countryside did seem very pleasant with some lovely houses. I was booked into another luxurious Travelodge (ah, the excitement of showbiz folks) and for once it was quite nice! It seemed to be a brand spanking new build and seemed slightly better fitted out than some of the ones I have visited recently. Some of the usual things were there as ever - the confusing shower/bath combination thing that would need someone like Professor Stephen Hawking to work out how to make it work, the hot water that either comes out cold for several hours, or is immediately the same heat as volcanic magma and strips the flesh from your hands. But for once it was not just a lonely building in the corner of an industrial estate or a cow field - there were facilities! True, one was one of these God-awful plastic "family pubs" called things like "The Jolly Farmer" or "The Badgers Nadgers", and another was a Subway outlet selling sandwiches so full of salt they could exterminate an infants school with one mouthful. But there was also a nice looking Chinese take away and a Co-op Supermarket. Being the health conscious King I am these days, I put on my blinkers, walked straight past the Chinese and headed for the low fat food in the Co-op. What a good boy I am. I spent a restful evening watching "X-Men: The Last Stand" and having very naughty thoughts about Famke Janssen. (Dirty boy!).

The drive to St Oswald's Worlstone Primary was quite painless the next morning, though the rain was continuing to fall mainly in the downwards direction. It is a lovely old Victorian school building in a very leafy country lane seemingly miles from anywhere. The teachers who greeted me were lovely and friendly and it seemed pretty certain I was on for a good day. And I was right! It was a group of about 35 children and a mixture of years 3, 4, 5 & 6, and though they began the day a little subdued, they soon got into their stride! We had a fine morning,with lots of laughs and were even delighted to notice that the sun was coming out! Hoorah! Lunch was a delicious spaggy bol, and then it was back to the hall for more Tudor mayhem. The concluding joust was close, but won in the end by a very fine Gents team - and about time too! Our score for the year at this point was then:

GENTLEMEN 1 -2 LADIES

I packed my stuff away and headed for an hour long drive down to the Frankley Services on the M5 and yet another rendezvous with a Travelodge. This was much more like your usual text book Travelodge. A bit run down, a surly receptionist who kept tutting if people asked her questions and once you got into the corridor towards your room, an over-powering smell of fetid dampness. Frankly, Frankley Services were enough to make you want to chew your own foot off. We did have facilities! You could dine in the sumptuous surrounds of Burger King, or play very loud flashing fruit machines. I instead headed for the near deserted Marks and Spencers food outlet and purchased some more of my low fat grub. There was no Famke Janssen to keep me company this evening, so I ended up retiring to bed at 9.30pm (yes, it's that wild showbiz, rock'n'roll lifestyle again folks!). I am currently reading "1,000 Years of Annoying the French" by Stephen Clarke, which is a mildly diverting book about our "entente cordiale", or rather lack of it, with our Gallic chums over the channel. It is a hefty tome of some 700 pages, and I tend to lie on my back in bed when reading, but this does then bring you the danger of when you're nodding off of dropping your reading matter on your face. Not so bad if it's a newspaper, but a 700 page anti-French comedy book can do some serious damage. After bashing myself on the nose for the 4th time I decided it was time for sleep.

My second show on the road was at Perryfields Primary in Oldbury in Birmingham. To get to this place I had to drive down the M5 for about five miles to the next junction and then turn round and come back again up past the Frankley Service area where I had stayed the night before. It was such a delight to be on the motorway with all those friendly midlands motorists. I'd particularly like to say a big "hello" to the utter Merchant Banker in his glistening silver BMW who seemed to think he had a God given right to drive wherever he fecking wanted on the road and tough luck if you're in his way. I can only wish him my fondest regards, and hopefully terminal dysentery. The school was lovely - I was greeted by Miss Bridgewater who had booked me for the morning and was soon in with the 60+ children from years 3 & 4 combined. We had a great morning - really terrific fun. But the whole thing seemed to pass in a flash and before I knew it, it was over and I was on my way home! The jousting was a close run thing and had to go to TWO ride offs to find the eventual winners which was the Gentlemen AGAIN! So we are now at:

GENTLEMEN 2 - 2 LADIES

All square as I now head to Essex for a show at South Green Junior in Billericay this Friday.

Wednesday evening I met up with my friends Viv and John Rich from Crawley who are staying in Somerset for a little holiday at the moment. We went to the Mason's Arms at Odcombe near Yeovil and had a lovely meal, which John insisted on paying for. What a nice man! I hope they enjoy the rest of their stay.

On a final note I would like to send my best wishes for a speedy recovery to my old mate Pete Flanagan who is currently in hospital after a very nasty accident when he had his leg crushed by a car that hit him while he was out walking his dog. Hope you are soon back and firing on all four again soon, Pete.

Shillingstone, Cowboy, Hat - just a normal weekend really...

2011-09-17T20:58:00.003+01:00

An extract from Good King Hal's diary: "Day 34 of low fat diet. All going well, still enjoying myself, most symptoms of gall bladder pain now utterly subsided." "Day 35, lard roasted ham... nom nom nom." "Day 36. AAARRGGGH! GALL BLADDER!"

After the first school back on Tuesday with West Leigh, I was now back in Somerset and time for my first school visit here. Well, actually if you're being totally pedantic it was actually in Dorset, but you know what I mean. On the Friday morning I was due back at Shillingstone School just to the north of Blandford Forum, it's a very pleasant drive down to this school through some charming west country scenery - even going past deer park where you can see... yes, you guessed it! Herds of deer! Delightful. The last time I had visited Shillingstone School was a good couple of years ago and they were housed in a tiny Victorian building, flush against the main road and with no parking. Back then I'd had to park about 100 yards down the street and carry my props up the road to the school. They have now moved to a brand new building about half a mile away and tucked away in a quiet side road. It is a stunning new build - bright, airy and full of interesting shapes and angles. The view from the classrooms is of the ancient Wessex landscape - one hill dominating the surroundings has a fine looking bronze age enclosure on the top and various tumuli here and there... (I know you're still reading this, I can hear you breathing...).

It was a great day at the school with a combined year 5 & 6 group of about 30 children. They were quiet to begin with, but once they got going there was no holding them. We had a riotous morning - I even did the Tudor Quiz as a sort of re-enactment of the old "ITV" kids show "Runaround" with the children deciding which large floor mat they would run to for each of their answers. Great fun! The jousting tournament was as ever a loud and exciting affair, and unsurprisingly the ladies won AGAIN. This makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 0 - 2 LADIES

My day was not over. On the Friday evening I was due down at Bridport in Dorset for the launch of the 2nd Annual Bridport Hat Festival. I was to go on stage at the Arts Centre and introduce legendary British country and western singer Hank Wangford and his backing band The Lost Cowboys. I got down to Bridport and wandered up to the Arts Centre. Hank and the band were ripping through a sound check so I took the opportunity to nip into the dressing rooms and get changed. I met Hank who seemed like a lovely bloke, as did most of his band. There was also a strange lady dressed in a sort of florid burlesque gear with a fascinator on her head, who at half time was apparently going to do a little dance about hats while pointing to the words projected on a screen behind her. She spent a short time before the opening of the show asking Hank's puzzled looking drummer if he could play various rhythm's for the different hat dances she was going to perform. The long winter evenings in Bridport must just fly past. Well the time came and I was on stage with main festival organiser Roger Snook doing a sort of cross talk routine as we introduced Hank and the band. And that was it! On came Hank, launched into a song and I was finished for the evening. I drove back to Crewkerne and stopped for a Chinese. Parked outside the restaurant was a tractor - how very Somerset I thought. Inside was, I assume, the driver. He was an enormously pissed neanderthal, perched on a bar stool supping lager from a pint glass while his lady friend moaned about drunk he was. I sat waiting for my order as the neanderthal and his lady continued mildly arguing, with the neanderthal only pausing to belch or fart thunderously. What a talented chap he was. I went home, ate Chinese food and passed out in the "coma chair". What a talented chap I was.

This wasn't the end of my contribution to the Bridport Hat Festival, oh no! I was there all day on the Saturday! I drove down at about 8am in the morning to make sure of my parking spot - they are at a premium during the festival. I got changed in a small room at the back of Roger Snook's hat shop but was soon out pounding the streets, shaking hands and being photographed. If you have never experienced the Bridport Hat Festival on the main Saturday then I urge you to rectify this as soon as possible. It is terrific fun - everyone, but everyone, is turned out in brilliant hats - you see the lot. Pith helmet, fascinators, flying helmets, top hats, deer stalkers, big fancy wedding hats, bowlers, derby's, trilby's... the lot! There was some terrific acoustic live music in the delightfully named Bucky Doo Square, including a great turn from the Dub Liberators who do great acoustic versions of songs like "Anarchy in the UK", "London Calling" and "The Ace of Spades". The weather was on the whole very kind to us and it was a good day all round.

Next Henry appearance is on Tuesday when I up in Cheshire visiting a school for my first ever show in that county. Should be fun.

Leeds Castle and West Leigh

2011-09-13T22:01:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal's front room. Notice hot and cold running stocks and huge fold back speaker. Nice!

So after all the fun and games of jousting at Hever Castle this summer, it was time for one final tournament - this time back at dear old Leeds Castle. It was all to kick off on the Friday evening with a "Sunset Joust" - this was like a normal joust only done in a sort of hazy twilight. Probably quite romantic with the Castle in the background, but you did feel that most of the Knights would have been within their rights if they'd claimed for bad light and walked off. I was on the microphone for this whole weekend which was great fun and I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed myself - I hope the public did too, they didn't seem to run off in any great numbers which was a help. We'd only just started the show when one of Leeds Castle's hot air balloons suddenly came looming over the castle before coming to Earth with an undignified thump in the field just one up from our arena. We finished the show as the light was finally completely fading, and were then replaced in the entertainment stakes by the showing of "A Knight's Tale" on a giant screen next to our arena. I had an appointment with a bottle of Shiraz at my sister's house, so I made my farewells and left.

The final Saturday and Sunday were back to the usual set up for jousting at Leeds. Two shows each day, one at 12.30pm and one at 2.30pm - except on the Saturday the second show was put back to 3.30pm to accommodate a visit from some kids from Kent Youth, or some such organisation. Such was the ill behaviour of some of their number, then a visit from Genghis Khan and his Mongol Hordes might have produced less bad language and partial destruction of my costume. I have nothing against youth organisations, but I do feel the rest of us should have been issued with Luger pistols to give us a fighting chance.

I had my own little tent down on the site for, initially getting changed in, then also with my old throne from the "Henry's Horrid History" shows back in February (see this blog from February for details!) on a raised dais with the idea that I would have people coming to be photographed with The King. It was a nice little bolt hole as well at lunchtime. However on the Saturday night, long after I had gone, while the Kent Youth yobs....I mean kids... were still on site the heavens had apparently opened and some of the little darlings had taken refuge in my tent. This I discovered on the Sunday morning when I found my costume bag completely rifled, some of my clothes on the grass soaked in dew (I hope) and my hat crumpled up into a ball and had apparently been kicked around as well. Bless 'em. All four shows on the Saturday and Sunday went really well. My old friend Clara turned up with her kids on the Saturday, then on Sunday Greg and Diane Nash, who I have been friends with since I lived in London back in the 80's turned up with their sons Barnaby and Joseph - both of whom were primary school kids when I last met them, but who are both now at University. Where does all the time go..? Also Michelle Coda, her partner Matt and daughter Victoria, fresh from being Anne Boleyn at Hever Castle came along to see all the jousters with a view to Michelle doing some of the sound system work next summer at Hever. Much fun was had with all. I was also accompanied by The Tudor Roses, two fine ladies who turned up in brilliant Tudor apparel and were my Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour for both days. There are apparently three of them in total, but I only got to meet two of them as one was away in Cyprus! The two I met were Emma and Katherine (I think - HUGE apologies if I have either name wrong!). They looked fantastic - please check out their Facebook page.

It was a fitting end to the summer season, the final show being very much a "end of term" event with lots of in-jokes and larking about, but the audience seemed to really enjoy it as well. Sir Stephen of Porlock was over joyed to see Michelle back in the audience and promptly let her have another of his stunning ditties, even if it was a bit rude (he obviously struggled to find something to rhyme with "ditties"). He also spent a large part of the final tournament wearing a big frizzy yellow wig which caused him to bear a startling resemblance to Yazz from "The Plastic Population" circa 1989.

Monday was spent up in Basildon seeing as much of my lovely James as possible. Tuesday (that's today to you and me) and it was my first visit to a school for this term and I was back at West Leigh Junior School near Southend in Essex - a school I last visited back in about 2008. It was great to be back and I was very warmly welcomed by the charming staff. It was a very large group, about 128 of them in total, of Year 3 children, but they were brilliant. Great fun, very fizzy and full of laughter - we had a superb day. With such a big group the afternoon was a rip roaring affair and culminated in a deafening jousting tournament which, predictably (if you go by previous years scores) was won by the ladies. So after the first show of the year, our opening score is:

GENTLEMEN 0 - 1 LADIES

Who knows where it will go this year. I am next back at Shillingstone School in Dorset on this Friday (16th) and then that evening and the following Saturday I am appearing at the Bridport Hat Festival. Come down and see some big hats, Hank Wangford and yours truly strutting my stuff.

Hat's All Folks...

2011-09-08T00:15:00.002+01:00

In a couple of weeks time I shall be appearing at the Bridport Hat Festival, but this evening just gone I have been to one of their "warm up" events - a hat auction. My dear old friend Jill Beed is one of the main organisers and she invited me down for dinner with her, her husband Mark and son Thomas. After this we wandered down to the town for the charity auction. The Hat Festival has been organising a hat amnesty - people have been handing in unwanted and now unloved hats, and tonight with them all collected together we were going to auction them off. When Jill and I got there, we found there was 102 lots going under the hammer! As the auctioneer was a bit late I did the first lot, but by then he arrived and took over. Much fun was had, silly bids made and lots of jokes. There was one very drunk older man there that no one actually knew who he was - but he bid on and won stacks of hats, both men's and women's, and ended up with them stacked one on top of each other on his head. I'd love to know how he explained all of them to whoever he had at home waiting for him. By the end he had more hats than you would normally expect to see on Ladies Day at Ascot. I went mad and bought one hat!

To see more of details on the forthcoming hat festival and my involvement then go to http://www.bridporthatfest.org/ and any money raised from tonight's auction and other events at the festival go towards a very worthwhile charity - check out their web page here www.hammerout.co.uk

At Leeds Castle this weekend for the jousting, then next week I have school shows at West Leigh in Essex and Shillingstone in Dorset, then it is the Hat Festival at Bridport on the 16th & 17th. See you there?

For Hever and Hever...

2011-08-29T09:23:00.004+01:00

Anne Boleyn beckoning the photographer over. A pagga then ensued. Ruddy paparazzi.

And all of a sudden, it was the last weekend of Hever jousting! I couldn't believe it had come round so quickly. The weather had been looking vaguely threatening all week - could our luck of just one really wet weekend hold out? It didn't start well - a journey up to Essex to see my beautiful son was certainly damp, and our shopping trip to Toys R Us was similarly moist. However, James came away with a "Pirates of the Caribbean" Lego set AND a box set of "Pirates of the Caribbean" DVD's (can you see a pattern here folks?). James is now convinced that he is in fact Captain Jack Sparrow, and can even do the Johnny Depp walk/run perfectly. He is also madly in love with the idea of dressing up as Prince Edward to my Henry VIII - should be fun.

Friday at Hever was damp to begin with, but luckily the rain held off for the entirety of the show, which was a real blessing. After the success of handing a glove to Sir Stephen of Porlock as a "favour", Michelle Coda came up with the idea of more gifts for the Knights from Anne Boleyn. This time she had been on a shopping trip to a local charity shop where she had purchased a simply enormous pair of flowery knickers. These were simply industrial in size and probably best described as apple catchers. Somehow Michelle managed to roll/fold these down to a size that she could secrete them between her boobs in her Tudor dress and produce them (the knickers that is) at will when the time required her to dish out the Queen's favour. Once more it was decided that the prize should go to the Knight that won the "Challenge of the Rings" in the arena. This time Sir Jasper de Barry (Jeremy) was the winner and approached the Royal Box with some trepidation. Michelle handed him the rolled up knickers and he said "ooh, socks!" However, just after he climbed back into the saddle of his horse he unfolded them. A huge cheer went up from the crowd as he displayed the passion killers above his head! How on Earth could Michelle top that???

On the Saturday we were back at the Castle and Michelle was there with her daughter Victoria (delighted that Mungo was back in the show after a day off) and her partner Matt. This time Michelle had purchased some large jelly snakes from a sweet shop. She rolled one of these into a ball and once more it was stuffed between her boobs. Again the weather held off for us, despite early heavy rain showers. The show was a good one today - fast and funny, with a brilliantly responsive crowd. The tournament of the rings went down to a ride off between Sir Jasper de Barry and Sir Stephen of Porlock. We were delighted when Sir Stephen won and once more he approached the Royal Box - Michelle managed to make the removal of the snake something of an artwork in itself and there was much laughter from the crowd as Sir Stephen claimed his prize.

It has been a fantastic summer at Hever Castle and I have enjoyed every single minute. So a big thank you to all the ladies who have been Anne Boleyn this summer - particularly Michelle Coda, but also Lisa Hudson, Tamsin Lewis, Zarrina Bull, Diane Collings and Sarah the steward from Hever! I couldn't have done it without any of you. A final celebratory curry was had at my sister's house on Saturday night and I was off back to Somerset on the Sunday morning. I am next working with the Knights at Leeds Castle on the 9th, 10th and 11th September for a tournament. Come along if you can!

All that AND Tottenham Hotspur 1 - 5 Manchester City. Wow.

Hevery Little Thing She Does Is Magic...

2011-08-22T17:22:00.008+01:00

Good King Hal and Anne Boleyn being stalked through the grounds of Hever Castle by an Italian Fashion Victim of uncertain vintage. Jimmy Saville also appears to have eaten all the pies in the background.

Can a man get tired of Hever Castle? I hope not as I seem to be spending every waking hour at the place just lately. And it has been terrific fun. It was back for another Friday, Saturday and Sunday at the Castle this last weekend, again accompanied by the wonderful Michelle Coda and her cute daughter Victoria. I had spent the Thursday with my beloved son James in Essex where I took him to the cinema to see "Mr Popper's Penguins" as he was absolutely "busting to see it" - his words, not mine. Well, that was nearly two hours of my life I won't get back. But James enjoyed it immensely and we did have a very nice meal at Frankie and Bennie's before we went into the cinema.

On the Friday we had a large crowd for the jousting show, which was good fun, and it was nice to have William of Antioch back with us again, though his participation in forthcoming shows maybe somewhat limited by the fact that he is about to become a Dad at any second. Michelle and I mucked about shamelessly before the show. We were in our little Tudor drawing room, waiting to be summoned to meet the masses, when Michelle lent out of the window to wave at some camera wielding tourists. As they turned away after taking our photos, and with Michelle still bending over leaning out of the window in front of me, I pretended to be a very naughty King and did something that would only be allowed on television after the watershed, but happened a lot in the "Tudors" TV series. Cue much guffawing and f'narring from Michelle and myself. Well we repeated the gag every single day this weekend and so far have not been photographed by a startled tourist yet - we hope. Well, what did they expect Henry and Anne get up to in their spare time? Play shove ha'penny?

At my sister's place on the Friday night she had a dinner party with her friends Darren and Karen as guests, as well as me and herself, and husband Julian. We had a lovely evening, loads of laughs and probably too much wine was had, but it was splendid none the less.

The Saturday crowd at the Castle was large but strangely quiet and reserved, but Sunday's crowd more than made up for it. Sunday was a really good show, I hope everyone there enjoyed it as much as we did. Michelle offered the Queen's favour (a white glove with "AB 4 S of P" on it!) to Sir Stephen of Porlock, who was most moved! I drove back on the Sunday afternoon, delighting in listening to Manchester City taking Bolton Wanderers to the cleaners. I was up bright and early on Monday morning for an appointment at Yeovil Hospital for a scan on my troublesome gall bladder. Thankfully I got the all-clear with no stones, but I shall continue to eat my new super healthy diet as I am really enjoying it and feel remarkably healthy. I have also lost about a stone and a half since I began doing it five weeks ago. I might have to invest in some pillows for stuffing up my Henry costume if this continues. Hever again this weekend, just on the Friday and Saturday. Should be fun, but be careful when looking in the windows of the castle... ;-)

I leave you with a lovely picture of Michelle's daughter Victoria with Sir William of Antioch on the right, and on the left - James, aka Mungo, one of the Knight Marshalls of the Tilt and Victoria's first BIG crush! It truly is love. Bless!

Smarter Than the Hever-age Bear...

2011-08-15T22:15:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal and Anne Boleyn launch into an eye watering rendition of "Riverdance" during their "live" appearance at Hever Castle.

Another weekend, and another trip down to Hever Castle. The Friday (12th August) was proving a bit dodgy as I was suddenly short of one Anne Boleyn. I tried many friends and finally had to admit defeat. I called Hever Castle with the news on the Thursday, but they were wonderful and said they'd ask some of their staff to see if someone was available - and they came back with good news! A lovely lady called Jane, who happened to be one of their senior stewards, volunteered and arrived just before the show was due to start in her own costume, and she looked brilliant. We had a fine day with not too much heat and a relatively good turn out for the show. We were short of William of Antioch, which is always detrimental to the shows in my humble opinion, but he was due back on the Saturday and Sunday.

For the Saturday and Sunday I was to be ably supported by my dear old friend Lisa Hudson who was going to be Anne Boleyn. I was so pleased she agreed to come along and do this for me as I knew she'd look fabulous in the costume - as you can see from our "Riverdance" picture above - she did! We had a little trouble getting Lisa sorted in her costume as she is relatively short, but is also very large in the chesticles department. We therefore had a fair old battle lacing her into her corset top, but she looked beautiful when finished! Lisa was an absolute star on both days and we had a real laugh doing both the shows. The kids we posed for photos with really warmed to her and she even got one little girl wanting to keep hugging her! Lisa's husband Adam (an old cricket team companion of mine from The Hoop Cricket Club) came along on the Sunday along with their lovely kids Luke and Joe.

We managed to get another "real" injury on Saturday, to compliment Sir Stephen of Porlock's dislocated shoulder at the previous show! This time, doing one of his spectacular falls, Sir Ashley of Hampshire managed to cut his head badly on the inside of his jousting helmet. Blood everywhere and five stitches were needed - he completed the show with a large white bandage on his head which prompted the commentator to refer to him as "Ahmed of Hampshire" first of all, and then later on as "Sir Ashley bin Laden". He was back to his usual "ruggedly handsome" self on the Sunday.

Changing the subject, as some of you may or may not know, my personal life is somewhat fraught at the moment. However, I have been overwhelmed with messages of love and support from so many friends over the previous couple of days that I am truly very touched and moved. It is at times like this that you do discover your true friends, and I am lucky enough to say I have many. You all know who you are, so thank you one and all. (Moves right and brushes something away from his eye, which is not a tear... honest. I am a roughtie-toughtie King FFS).

Anyway, Manchester City thumped Swansea 4-0 tonight, so that is enough to put a smile on my face for a little while. And now to listen to "Your Dictionary" by XTC - a lot.

Honiton Museum Day

2011-08-03T16:35:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal, not sure about his future with current wife Anne Boleyn, keeps a close eye on a possible part-exchange model called Jane Seymour.

No Hever this weekend as all the jousters are heading off to Blenheim Palace for a tournament over there. Jeremy did ring me up and ask me if I'd like to come along and commentate, but I had already committed myself to a weekend and more of looking after my lovely James and taking him down to Wales to see his Nanna and Bapa. Therefore my only Henry booking for this week was a long standing obligation to appear at Honiton's All Hallows Museum for a couple of Henry's Horrid History talks. I was looking forward to this as I had been booked through Russ and Mary Wardell, a lovely couple who I often see down at Barrington Court and thought it would be a fun day. Well, it most certainly was, but it wasn't quite as successful as we hoped it might be.

I drove down to Honiton which is a lovely little town - reminded me a lot of Bridport - and then began the search for the museum. Finally located it and got in. I was stuck in a side room where the local history group normally meets which I could use as a dressing room. Not sure what the local history group gets up to in there at their meetings as all their seemed to be were lots of maps, microfiche and a naked female mannequin model with huge prominent nipples. Ooh er!

I walked outside and spent some time in the High Road as a kind of benevolent Tudor press gang, cajoling people into coming into the museum for the talk. In the end it didn't work very well as we only had less than 10 people, but they all seemed to like it and there were lots of laughs. I changed for lunch and Russ then took me for a meal at a local wine bar, which was delicious, as was the brunette waitress with the tight skirt. In fact, one of the things I liked best about Honiton today was the preponderance of gorgeous ladies! They were everywhere. One young lass I spoke to during my afternoon on the pavement trying to sort out an audience looked just like a young Rachel Weisz! She was on her way home from her first day at a new job in a local coffee bar and was all excited. Bless! The second show didn't take place in the end as we only had two punters - an English ex-pat who lived half the year in Honiton and the other half in California (sounds like a good mix to me) and her excitable young son. So instead I had a little chat with them and played them some tunes on my recorder which actually seemed to delight them!

I went outside after this for a final recce on the High Street, and who was sitting out there on a bench eating an ice cream? Fiona Bruce! Fiona-bloody-Bruce! Fiona-Antiques-Roadshow-BBC-News-Looks-a-bit-saucy-Bruce! I said a hello and asked if she'd like to see inside the museum, but she politely declined. This was proof, if I needed any, that it was time to get changed and head for home. So that is exactly what I did.

Tonight I am off up to Essex to collect my lovely son, and then bring him down to Somerset for a little holiday, and then on to Wales this weekend.

Where Hever I Lay My Hat...

2011-08-01T21:21:00.005+01:00

Good King Hal and Lady Rochford launch into an impromptu version of "Tubthumping" by Chumbawumba before putting on a show in the barn with Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney. The wall plug behind them is a genuine Tudor power supply. Honest.

So it was back up to Essex to begin with - how well I am learning this route. But it was worth it, for more time with my lovely son, James. He is my everything these days. I had fun taking him to the bright lights of Festival Leisure Park in Basildon (known locally as Bas Vegas) and we played on the air hockey games as usual, but for a rare change I won - even though I tried to lose. James was very good at scoring own goals. We then had a bite to eat at a Chinese restaurant for lunch and then took him to see the movie "Cars 2". He seemed to enjoy it, but ended up making about 4 trips to the loo after drinking one of the industrial sized cartons of 7-Up that the cinema chain laughingly refer to as "Regular".

Back at Hever I was on for three days, the Friday, Saturday and Sunday. My two lovely Queens from Leeds Castle joust (Zarrina and Diane) were coming along, but due to my general fuzzy headedness and idiocy I had told them the event was on on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, rather than the true days. Therefore I was a Queen short for the Friday. I asked my friend Kiri Bloom whom I worked with at Rochester Castle last year if she could make it, but she was busy, but she suggested a friend of hers called Tamsin Lewis. I spoke to Tamsin on the phone and she was available on the Friday and happy to come down. Gawd bless yer, ma'am! I offered to pick her up from Edenbridge railway station for the show at Hever. She texted me and said she'd be there at about 11.30am. I drove up to Edenbridge and followed the signs to the station. I parked up at about 11.35am and of Tamsin there was not a sight. I tried to phone her mobile. No reply. I texted her and asked her where she was waiting at the station as it wasn't very big and I couldn't see her. She replied and told me she was standing outside the ticket hall. She wasn't. I asked her what the name of the station was where she was standing. It was Edenbridge. I was at Edenbridge Town. Bugger. I asked a local idiot in a local sandwich bar where Edenbridge station was and he gave me directions. It was only about a mile away. Why does a town as tiny as Edenbridge need two stations FFS? Anyway, I found the correct station and I found Tamsin. Bless her. Well we had a great day, lovely turn out, not too hot and I think Tamsin enjoyed herself. I dropped her back at the correct station after the show and headed to my sister's for the evening.

Saturday and Sunday was with Zarrina and Diane from Chippenham. They were great - fantastic costumes as ever, Zarrina in a brand new blue creation as you can see from the picture above. There was a nice breath of wind on the Saturday which made the hot weather a lot more bearable. Sunday was much more muggy. The Saturday night was spent at my friends John and Viv's in Crawley where Viv cooked a fantastic meal of tandoori Monk fish steaks with raita, salsa and guacamole dips and hot flat breads. Mmmmm! We then drank almost our entire body weights in rioja and decided this was the perfect warm up for sitting and watching "A Knight's Tale" on DVD. I think I managed to remain conscious for the first 20 minutes, but missed the rest. Viv only managed 10 minutes. John watched the whole thing and then put on another movie. What a guy! The Sunday at Hever (hang over conquered at first) was good, but marred by two unfortunate incidents. First Sir Stephen of Porlock (the wonderfully nutty Steve Beart from Porlock in Somerset) had finished a ball and chain fight and several jousts, when he wandered back to his squires and as a joke decided to pull his tabard over his head, a la a premiership footballer after scoring a goal. He succeeded merely in dislocating his shoulder and had to be treated by medics at the side of the arena. He looked in agony as he left. Poor man. On the walk back to the castle after the show we were photographed by lots of lovely people - plus one total bastard of a family who's feral kids ran riot, asked rude questions, kept trying to steal our hats, invade other people's photographs and generally behave much as flies do round a horse's bum. And the eldest of the kids was probably only about 12 at most. And of the parents? Well they seemed to think it was hilarious. Scratters. It was a delight to get back to the calm cool order of the Castle afterwards. I drove back to Somerset that evening and was delighted to be home, if alone. As ever. I then had to starve myself for 15 hours after 6pm on the Sunday as on the Monday morning I had a blood test at my Doctor's for my ongoing gall bladder fun and games. Professionally life is great at the moment, but everything else seems to be falling apart, including me. I literally have no idea what life is going to throw at me next, but knowing my recent luck, it won't be good!

A weekend off from Hever this weekend so I am traipsing halfway across England again to see the lovely James, and then I will take him away for a holiday down in Somerset and maybe down to Wales to see his Nana and Bapa. He and I will enjoy that. On Wednesday this week I will be at Honiton Museum in Devon for a couple of talks. Come along! Poke my gall bladder! Enjoy yourselves.

The Hever Ending Story...

2011-07-25T21:17:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal suffering a severe attack of the gall bladders during a particularly violent jousting tournament earlier this year.

I had a few days back in Somerset trying to dry out after the downpour at Hever the previous weekend. Someone had said we were going to get an Indian summer, I had no idea it would be a bloody monsoon. I had also noticed that I was in pain. Shortly after my show at the Somerton Festival earlier in July, I was aware of a certain uncomfortable pain in my side - sort of in the liver area. I was hoping, as most men do, that it would just go away and there would be no need to go and see something as terrifying as a Doctor. On the Monday after the previous Hever weekend I woke up at about 6am thinking that I had just been stabbed in the side. I had a sharp jabbing pain in my side running right the way round almost to my back. Classic signs of a gall bladder either packed full of stones, or just grumbling. Time to do something I should have done months ago - EAT HEALTHILY! It was time to go on to a fat free diet. Goodbye butter, cheese and anything else that might contain saturated fats, and welcome to dry bread, skimmed milk and water. Well, it's not as bad as that and I am actually quite enjoying the healthy eating option. Who knows, next time you see Henry VIII he might bear a striking resemblance to Twiggy, or Lily Cole.

Two days after the gall bladder shenanigans I was back at BBC Somerset for another appearance on Emma Britton's show. It was another good programme - our discussion topic was "Is suicide a selfish act?" - which seemed to get little reaction from the callers of Somerset. Our secondary topic was about should you have to pay to use your local civic amenity site (formerly known as a "DUMP"). The phones simply rang off the hook with outraged callers. Hey-ho. It was nice to see the lovely Emma again - such a good presenter. From the BBC Studio I drove up to Essex to spend a couple of days with Amanda and James in lush tropical Basildon. It was great to see my lovely son and he got such a glowing school report for his end of term - so, so proud of my little man. He has really pulled himself up by the bootlaces this year and shown everyone what he is capable of - we always knew he was a smart little cookie. Now the school can show the evidence as well. Nice one, Monkey!

Saturday it was time to drive back down to Hever Castle for another show with the Knights of Royal England. This time for a change I was to be Master of Ceremonies for the shows on both days. This was a daunting thought and was even more worrying when I sat and read the script that Jeremy had sent me from the jousting team. However, I have seen the show on so many occasions when compered by the brilliant Roland Bearne, so I simply went along with his style and chucked in a few jokes of my own. I was accompanied again by the delightful Michelle Coda as my Anne Boleyn. Both the Saturday and Sunday were a triumph for me - great shows, good turn outs and warm on Saturday and boiling on the Sunday. It was also nice to see my dear old friends Viv and John Rich at Hever on the Sunday! I drove back to Somerset on the Sunday evening a very tired, but happy King. I didn't even worry about the Doctor's appointment I had this morning about my gall bladder. But even that went OK - I am back next week for some blood tests. Probably to ascertain that I am actually a homo sapien and not some neanderthal left over, but I shall keep you posted. Hever again next weekend - Friday, Saturday and Sunday this time. Come and say hello!

Oh, by the way, the smashing picture above, taken at the jousting at Leeds Castle earlier this year is now on Flickr and is by Blindluckphotos who are brilliant! Check out their piccies!

Happy Hever After!

2011-07-17T21:01:00.003+01:00

(left) Good King Hal and Anne Boleyn, having a searingly tender moment at Hever Castle whilst standing next to Wee Jimmie Kranky. In a tabard.

This has been a very hectic couple of weeks. We begin last Saturday when I did a "Walky Talky" visit to Barrington Court. It was a lovely day - bright and sunny, and not too hot. I spent an hour or so wandering round the delightful gardens of this lovely house, and then did another performance of my one man show "Henry's Horrid History" just as I had done at the Somerton Festival the previous evening. It was another great show - lots of laughs from a packed audience and a long ringing round of applause at the end. Lovely! From Barrington I headed straight up the M5, then over the Severn Bridge and into wild Welsh Wales and to my parent's house in Newcastle Emlyn. It was a big family get-together of both my sisters and their "other half's" (namely Ian and Julian) for my eldest sister, Susan's birthday on July 13th.

It was so nice being together as a family again and we spent the week having laughs, and probably eating and drinking a bit too much. We had a fabulous meal on the Tuesday at the Daffodil Inn at Penriwllan where my old friend Carole Davey (now Carole Evans!) from Skandia now works - though not for much longer as she is leaving as of this weekend (Stay in touch, Carole!). Before too long it was the last night, and we had a final blow out meal cooked by my sister, Cathy - fish pie for the majority of people there, but for me (who doesn't really like fish) a quite stunning home made burrito. Delicious!

On the Thursday I drove back to Essex to spend a couple of days with my precious lovely son, James. It was lovely to see him and he is growing so fast. On the Friday I was back to being Henry again at a new school for me. Arthur Bugler Junior School has a wonderful name and is based in Stanford-le-Hope near Basildon. It is a delightful school with some brilliant kids there, great fun and lots of laughs. The teachers were a delight as well and made me most welcome. The morning session was a cracker - it just seemed to whizz past at a staggering rate of knots. After lunch it was back in the hall and the noise just got louder and louder, until we reached an absolute crescendo with a brilliant jousting tournament. This culminated in a win for the Gentlemen in a very closely fought finale. This makes, what I think will be the final score for this year as:

GENTLEMEN 26 - 31 LADIES

Well done, Ladies. A very commendable win for the second year running.

Saturday morning I was down to Hever Castle near Edenbridge in Kent for a jousting tournament with Jeremy Richardson's Knights of Royal England team that I had worked with before at Leeds Castle. I had had one bit of trouble at the beginning as the original lady who was to work with me at Hever as Anne Boleyn sadly couldn't make it, so I ended up phoning round loads of friends trying to see if anyone was free at very short notice to don a Tudor dress and be my wife for the weekend! Unsurprisingly there were very few takers! However, I phoned my dear old friend Michelle Coda to see if she knew anyone, but she didn't, but eventually after some cajoling from me she agreed to come down to Hever and be Anne for me! And she looked brilliant as you can see from the picture above. It was good to see the Jousters again and everyone at Hever made us very welcome. On the first day there was no Roland as master of ceremonies, but Jeremy had brought along a new man for his first appearance. He did very well for a first show, but struggled to remember all the characters names, bless him. The weather was a bit rotten when we first arrived, but cheered up a little in the afternoon. We only had a small crowd for the show with people obviously put off by the bad weather. However, if we thought that the weather was a bit pants on the Saturday it was nothing compared to Sunday. It was like a monsoon and Michelle and I got absolutely soaked during the afternoon show. Michelle's seriously cute daughter Vicky came along on both days and played our "lady in waiting" dressed in a tabard! It was a great couple of days and I am delighted to say Michelle and I will be back at Hever Castle again next weekend for two days more of jousting. I have promised Michelle the weather will be better, and she has my full permission to beat me senseless with a stale French baguette if it isn't. I'd better keep an eye on the long range weather forecast, and ensure all French baguettes near Hever Castle are fresh.

Somerton Summer Arts Festival 2011

2011-07-09T09:50:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal warming up his vocal chords with a few drinky-poos before his latest show. How to make a Good King Hal cocktail: Take one pint of Adnams Broadside, drink it, repeat until floor leaps up and hits you on the head.

For the past few years, quite often when I have happened to drive through the pretty town of Somerton I have noticed signs up declaring that their "Summer Arts Festival" was either, "coming soon" or "was a great success". I have always fancied the idea of appearing at various festivals during the summer, so last autumn I contacted the organisers and offered my services as Henry. They got back in contact and after some discussions it was decided I would do my one man show of "Henry's Horrid History" as part of the Summer Festival 2011. Last night was THE night! The show started at 7.30pm but it was requested that I be at the venue (The Parish Hall) by 6pm. I arrived on time and was even lucky enough to find a parking space right by the front door. The Parish Hall is a nice venue and, at a push, you could probably squeeze about 100 people in, but that would make for a very intimate atmosphere to say the least. For my show they were limiting the amount of seating to 60 people. As it was over 70 tickets were sold and more seating was needed.

The show itself was a great success, the audience laughed and enjoyed all the necessary silly bits, and also enjoyed the slightly more serious historical bits. At the end of the show I got a large and generous round of applause, and then I waited by the front door and thanked everyone who had attended as they left. I also posed for a few photos. I was thanked by all the hard working staff of the festival committee, was given a cheque for my performance and was then on my way home. I stopped for fish and chips en route, which were very welcome as I had not eaten since lunchtime and it was now nearly 9.30pm. So the Somerton Summer Arts Festival was a big success for me, and this was just the opening night. The festival continues for another couple of weeks with lots of diverse and different acts and events to tickle your fancy. Have a look at their website on line and if you're in the area go and see something mind blowing. Including one tribute band called "Two Beatles". Yep, you got it. Two blokes who couldn't find two other blokes, decided that backing discs and a big dollop of imagination would be enough to get them through a Beatles tribute concert without anyone asking too many searching questions about their lack of personnel. Of course if they were going to be totally honest they should impersonate the two remaining Beatles - Paul and Ringo. But an evening of just drumming and bass playing to the tunes of "Octopus's Garden" and "Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da" would be enough to make any true music lover want to chew their own foot off.

Henry's Horrid History is on again today at Barrington Court near Ilminster. Come and say hello!

Green Rock Junior, Walsall

2011-07-08T10:15:00.003+01:00

King Henry VIII and Queen Elizabeth I. Typical. You wait for one famous historical monarch for days on end, then two turn up at once. Tut.

Early nights. I don't like them. Not on my own, anyway... But then I don't always go to bed alone, no some nights I have Judie Tzuke with me, or Kate Bush. Last night I had all of Jools Holland's Rhythm and Blues Orchestra with me, which would have been a little crowded if they hadn't been on my Walkman. Just don't tell the News of the World or they'll do a shock expose about the King's nocturnal habits. Well, they would do if Rupert "Cover My Back!" Murdoch hadn't sacrificed an entire newspaper to keep Rebekah Brooks in a position so that she shields him and his repulsive son (for now) from being forced to fall on their own swords. But we can live in hope...

Anyway "why the early night?" I hear you ask. It was for an early start to get up to Walsall in the midlands for a first ever visit to Green Rock Junior. I set my alarm for 4am and then did my usual trick of putting my alarm clock the other side of the room so that when it did go off, I had to get up to turn it off. Well I would have done if I had ever actually managed to get to sleep in the first place. My brain decided it was time to start questioning why I was going to sleep so early, what would happen if I slept through the alarm and such things, until my mind was a whirling maelstrom of thoughts, ideas and panics. I lay in the dark urging myself to fall asleep, but to no avail. I even tried the coma chair, but for once it failed me. I probably managed a total of about an hours sleep, but by 2.30am I was furious and ready to give up. So I had a shower and a shave and got dressed. By 3am I was ready, and so thought what the hell, let's go. It was a wonderfully easy drive at that time of the morning and I was soon in Walsall. I won't lie. It isn't the prettiest town on Earth. In fact it probably wouldn't be the prettiest town on Mars either. By 5.30am I had found the school, so I settled myself down in the car, set my alarm for 7.30am and finally, thankfully fell asleep.

The school was a delight - it appeared huge but apparently only had a roll of about 250 children. I was very warmly welcomed by the lovely teachers. It was great - the children were hilarious, very fizzy and full of energy, plus they all absolutely adored the Tudor period. We had lots of fun and laughter with everyone joining in. Lunch was delicious - cottage pie, one of my all time favourites! The afternoon session was incredibly loud and the jousting was a pulsating tournament that culminated with ANOTHER win for the gents! Two on the trot now - but have they left it too late. Our score is now:

GENTLEMEN 25 - 31 LADIES

I am next appearing tonight (Friday) at the Somerton Summer Arts Festival at the Parish Hall doing my Henry's Horrid History Show. Come along if you're in the area. On Saturday I am back at Barrington Court for a walkabout and another performance of Henry's Horrid History at my favourite National Trust property! Next school visit is next Friday at Arthur Bugler School in Southend in Essex.

Edinburgh 1987 and a Lovely Wedding...

2011-07-04T10:09:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal, suddenly remembering he left the spare key for the castle at the BACK door, and not under the portcullis. What a twit.

Let me take you back, if I may, to August 1987. I am 20 years old and have just written and produced a show which is going to open at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe on the 16th August. It was a tremendously exciting time in my life, when everything seemed possible and my dreams, such as they were, were not sullied by the disappointments of age or clouded by experience of rejection. I wrote the show with my friend Steve Newman and we were quite genuinely convinced we were going to go to Edinburgh, make vast sums of money, become famous, get given our own BBC TV comedy series and then probably end up on "Whoops Vicar, My Kilts Exploded" or some such other daytime "entertainment" show. Looking back now, nearly 24 years since that time I can't believe we were so naive. Our show called, brilliantly originally "The Revue" quite naturally bombed. When you go to do the Fringe you need something to grab people's attention, whether it be something they already know, or something to intrigue them. Having a show simply called "The Revue" is not going to be noticed by anyone. When you do the Festival Fringe, unless you are someone staggeringly famous already, you share your venue with countless other shows, and we were no exception. On before us each night was a show called "The Ballad of Halo Jones" based on the 2000AD comic strip of the same name. Each and every night they were packed out, purely because people knew the name. We went to see the show one evening. It was total crap. BUT, and let's face it folks, it's a BIG BUT, the show may have been total crap, but they had bums on seats and were making money. We'd come on at 10pm to do our show and there's three drunk students, two deaf old ladies and a small Cairn Terrier called Ernie. If we were lucky. And they never charged for the dog. But I had a thoroughly enjoyable time, possibly the best two weeks of my entire life. I was 20 and I was doing comedy, in Edinburgh, with some very groovy people and I was drinking too much, sitting up all night and it felt really bloody good! And the main reason for all these reminiscences flooding back now, is that from dear old Ebay the other day, I managed to purchase for the princely sum of 99p an original copy of the "Edinburgh Fringe Festival Programme 1987". It was fun flicking through it seeing all the names that at the time were struggling but are now TV stars. I had great difficulty in finding our show, but then, under the banner of the Theatre we were working in (Theatreworks, based at St Paul's & St George's Church Hall in York Place) was our listing. Now, when you place your advert in the programme you have only I think a maximum of 15 words for your placement, so it has to reach out, smash potential ticket purchasers between the eyes and drag them bleeding into the hall by their thousands. So what did Steve and I come up with? I had long forgotten, but there in slightly faded black and white in the Fringe Programme the stark reality of our folly glared out at me. It read: "Busty Norseman, Stig Volvo, has totally surrounded Edinburgh. Seeks medical advice." And we wondered why no one was coming to see us? I'd love to have another bash at Edinburgh, take my Henry's Horrid History Show up there sometime. Who knows, maybe next year...

Back to now, I was asked some time ago by a lovely couple called Corinne and David to be master of ceremonies at their wedding reception at Dillington House near Ilminster. I was delighted to oblige and last Saturday the day came. The weather could honestly not have been better, bright and sunny, but not too hot with a slight breeze to help Corinne looked stunning in her dress and David and all his ushers and male family members looked very dashing dressed in fine kilts and waistcoats. It was a magical day with a super mixture of the two families, one from Somerset and the other from Ballymena in Northern Ireland. I was on duty so to speak from about 12 noon to 7pm, and can honestly say it was one of the nicest weddings I have been to anyway, and was fun to work at!

Next Henry appearance is on Thursday this week at Green Rock School in Walsall, followed by my appearance at the Somerton Summer Arts Festival on the Friday evening. I am then at Barrington Court on Saturday for another outing of the Henry's Horrid History Show.

Wolsingham? Canny!

2011-06-29T19:25:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal (right), checking the number of fingers on Ms Boleyn's left hand, just to make sure it is really her.

It would seem that the repercussions of my visit to James' school for his "Bring Dad to School Day" were still being felt. One of the other Dad's there on the day was the former Catholic Priest who worked at the school. By all accounts during his time working there he was quite strict and pious towards most of the families. But, Lo! It came to pass that this priest didst gaze upon one of the single mothers attending the school and thought "Phew, what a scorcher!", tore off his dog collar and moved in with her. He is now a good little secular step father. He came to the "Bring Dad to School Day" and during the bit where we all had to stand up and tell the others what we did for a living, he announced how he used to be the Priest for the Catholic school but was now training to become an Anglican Vicar. Putting on my best stentorian and outraged Catholic voice, I shouted "GET OUT!" and pointed at the door, which brought loud guffaws from everyone else in the room. He looked daggers at me and has now probably booked me a nice little spot in Hell for judgement day. Still, I am sure it was worth it for all the laughs I got from the other fathers.

And so it was time to be Henry VIII again. On the Sunday morning I left for the long drive up to County Durham and my appointment at Wolsingham Primary school near Bishop Auckland. I was heading for Sedgefield as I was booked into another "luxurious" Travelodge - but this time for the bargain basement price of £15 for the night. Last of the big spenders, that's me. The journey up from Essex to County Durham was relatively easy, but very warm on one of the hottest days of the year. I reckon the highlight of the long drive was being overtaken by a gleaming De Lorean sports car looking as though it had just come off the set of "Back to the Future". I stopped off for some petrol and food for the evening when I found the Travelodge. I knew I was in County Durham for sure as on my arrival in the shop, the man behind the counter hailed me with a "Afternoon, wee man." And when I mentioned how hot it was he described the weather as "right canny". He could of course have been a stereotype placed there by the County Durham tourist board, but he wasn't just wearing a t-shirt and didn't refer to me as a "shandy drinking cockney man woman man". Or something. The hotel room was stiflingly hot and had windows that you could only open to a very small degree for "health and safety" reasons. So they save you from plummeting to your death, they just let you cook slowly instead. So I set myself on at gas mark 4 and went to bed.

I had a half hour drive over to Wolsingham, where the school was, the next morning. It was a pretty little town/large village, and the school was tucked right away down a tiny back road. It was a very small group today - about 31 children and they were possibly the quietest group I have ever encountered. I was a little worried about them at some points during the day, but they kept reassuring me that they were enjoying themselves. After a delicious roast dinner lunch the day finally got some noise with the stocks and then a rip roaring jousting tournament. Amazingly enough and for the first time in what seemed like ages, the Gents won! But only just. This makes the score now:

GENTLEMEN 24 - 31 LADIES

The journey home to Somerset from County Durham was going to be a long one. I left the car park at the school at approximately 3.15pm. I arrived outside my flat in Crewkerne 350 miles later at nearly 9pm. About the only thing that kept me going was listening to the frequent traffic reports of the 20 miles of virtually stationary traffic crawling away from Glastonbury after the festival ended. As I neared the end of my journey home down the A34 and A303 I saw many a "crusty bus" clanking along looking all funky and crap heading east back towards London and the home counties. When I stopped for petrol at the end of the A34 there was a young lad in the queue in front of me at the pay desk obviously on his way home from a long hard festival. His trousers were those trendy sort that look like they are riding at half mast, giving the poor unfortunate git behind him (i.e. Me) a fine and totally unwanted view of his grundies. He had purchased £10 worth of petrol, a bottle of mineral water, a can of Red Bull and some mints. His card was now being frequently and loudly declined by the machine by the check out. He eventually wandered off muttering like Kevin the Teenager about life's unfairness. As I got to my car he was leaning into the car n the bay next to mine trying to rouse two comatose travelling companions with oft intoned whiny nasal implications as to if any of them had any "wonga". Ah, the joys of youth.

Home for now, with my next Henry appearance this Saturday when I am working at Dillington House near Ilminster at a wedding, which should be great fun.

Thundersley Junior

2011-06-24T11:34:00.003+01:00

The good citizens of Thundersley were delighted to see Good King Hal back for a fourth year in a row.

I had initially come back to Essex (again) for a visit to my son's school in Basildon. He attends St Ann Line Roman Catholic School and they were hosting a "Bring Your Dad to School Day". Therefore I found myself in a school and for once, not dressed as Henry VIII. The father's were corralled in the main hall at first before being met by our children who then took us to their class room. After the children had done register we then had in turn to stand up and introduce who we were, what we did, what we liked and which football team we liked best. After that we took part in a treasure hunt around the school grounds which, amazingly, James and I won! James was so excited, but slightly less so when he discovered the prize was to take Dad over to their allotment and dig up some potatoes. As we walked back with the spuds he kept muttering loudly "I was expecting gold coins, not stupid potatoes..." which could be the sub-title for the next "Pirates of the Caribbean" movie.

Speaking of Caribbean I saw a brilliant sign in a pub in Somerset last week. I was at the Dinnington Docks Pub near Ilminster and they have a very big selection of food on blackboards for your perusal. This includes a "Curry Night Special" board which had amongst it's choices that of a "Trinidadian Curry" which promised a "flavour of the Mediterranean". Close, but no cigar.

On the Thursday of this week I took a break from frequent thrashings at Mario Kart by my son to visit Thundersley School in Southend. This was my fourth, or even possibly fifth visit to this lovely school. It was a biggish group of about 60 children, all turned out in fantastic Tudor costumes. About 90% of the kids were very well behaved, almost too quiet, but there was a small minority hell bent on being over involved and mouthy. This was one of my first experiences of, once having moved a child, having to then move them again, and then AGAIN as they continued to have an attitude. What a shame! The rest of the day was fine though and again an enjoyable experience. After lunch the hall was soon booming to the noise of another great jousting tournament. It was a close run thing but culminated in yet ANOTHER win for the ladies. There is just no stopping them at the moment. Our score for the year as we get close to the end is:

GENTLEMEN 23 - 31 LADIES

I think they are out of sight now, I really can't see the gents coming back from this far behind with such short time left.

I now have a couple of days with my son in Essex then on Sunday I am off for the long drive north for a show on Monday near Bishop Auckland. Now THAT is north.

Kingsclere

2011-06-18T22:08:00.005+01:00

Good King Hal playing "Where's That Anti-Personnel Mine?" in the great hall at Barrington Court in front of a group of stunned children. And on that BOMBSHELL...

My previous visit to Kingsclere in Berkshire had been three years ago and I had forgotten nearly everything to do with this school. I even read up my blog entry about it from 2008, but it still didn't really stir up the brain cells. I am really getting old now...

The evening before had been very pleasant as I had dinner with my old friends Malcolm and Linda Taylor from The Hoop Cricket Club in Essex. They were on their way down to Port Isaac in Cornwall for their holiday and decided to stay in Somerset on the way down, and stayed at the Manor B&B in Wayford where lots of my friends used to stay when I was living in Clapton. I picked up Malcolm and Linda and drove them over to the Dinnington Docks near Ilminster where we had a lovely meal and lots of laughs about the old days. A very agreeable amble down Amnesia Alley. I must do it more often.

Up, bright and early on the Friday morning and up along the A303 and cutting across country to Kingsclere. This is a lovely village/town just to the north of Basingstoke. I was warmly greeted by Sally James, the teacher who booked me. Before you ask, no, she wasn't some pensionable brunette with a nice pair of legs who had appeared many centuries before on Tiswas with Chris Tarrant. This particular Ms James was blond, young and very friendly, but I am sure she has nice legs. We had a fabulous morning with some of the nicest kids you could want to meet. Lots of fun and laughter, and everyone getting all the gags and jokes. Lunch was absolutely lovely - a cheese and onion quiche with salad and chips, yum! The morning had been almost completely perfect aside from when I had done the Henry meeting King Francis I at the Field of the Cloth of Gold wrestling bit. The young lad I had picked got a bit over excited and basically attacked me during the wrestling joke - punching and elbowing me ferociously. Thank Christ he was only 9 years old. If I had been in a secondary school I'd either be in hospital or a coma by now! The young lad in question was given the dressing down to end all dressing downs by Sally and her fellow teachers later...

The afternoon was fantastic - very very funny and loud, loads of laughs and fun all round. The jousting tournament was a belter where a very competent ladies team came through for a well deserved victory. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 23 - 30 LADIES

I think that is it for this year. I don't think there are enough gigs left before the summer break for the gents to catch up. So another triumph in the year for the ladies. Well done!

Sunday, tomorrow, I am at Barrington Court for another walkabout. Straight after that I am driving up to Essex. On the Tuesday I am being "me" at St Anne Line RC School in Basildon (the school my son James attends) as it is a "Bring Dad to School Day". Should be fun. Then on Thursday I am back at Thundersley School near Southend for a much looked forward to return visit.

David Tennant, Catherin Tate, Hats, Am Dram, Walkabout and Paulton... and relax.

2011-06-16T10:06:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal takes a straight right jab from Jane Seymour on the lawn in front of Leeds Castle. Either that, or he's blowing a raspberry on the back of her hand.

So, I went back to Somerset to pick up the tickets for "Much Ado About Nothing" at the Wyndhams Theatre, starring David Tennant and Catherine Tate. Me forgetting them in the first place was more of a case of "Much Rushing About The Country For Nothing". Anyway, my sister Cathy and myself went up to London on the 7th June to see the play. We were driven up by Cathy's husband, Julian. Now if you have never experienced a car journey with Julian Martin, then you are in for quite a shock. You know those old film clips of astronauts going through rigorous training before blasting off into space, where they get put in the centrifugal accelerator thingy and are then whizzed round at high speed, and we are treated to close ups of their faces contorting with the g-force they're experiencing. Well you can recreate that look and feeling simply by sitting in Julian's Volvo and going on a journey with him. We blasted off from Kent and seemed to arrive at Aldgate East tube station mere nano-seconds later, mind you I did have my eyes closed. The play itself was wonderful - David Tennant has a real presence on stage and is one of those actors that you simply can't take your eyes off him for every scene he is in. Catherine Tate was equally good and not too over the top, as I thought she might be. And she was looking mighty slinky too!

It was back to Somerset on the Wednesday and then in the evening down to Bridport to meet up with Jill Beed who has invited me to take part in the 2nd Annual Bridport Hat Festival in September. I sat in on their planning meeting and it looks like I could be taking part in the opening ceremony on the Friday evening with legendary Country and Western loony Hank Wangford (careful how you say that). Friday evening I was at Barrington Court to see the Barrington Players perform a couple of one act plays. As usual with this am dram group the quality of the performances were 99% excellent. The 1% other was a member of the cast I have seen before, who once again shouted most of the lines he could remember and spent most of the rest of the time looking round for the prompt, but the audience loved it, and it was fun and diverting for the evening.

I was back at Barrington Court the next day for a Henry VIII walkabout in the gardens. It was a relatively quiet, but fun to be back walking around these beautiful gardens. There seemed to be a lot of New Zealanders about this day - strange how you get little pockets of nationalities like this.

On the Monday it was a return visit to Paulton Junior near Bristol. I LOVE this school. It has always been such fun to go there. The kids are fun, bright and really get the whole concept of the show. The teachers are all uniformly lovely, charming, friendly and can't do enough for you. It was as ever at this finest of schools fun, loud, and full of laughter. The afternoon in particular was so raucous and full of laughter as to be one of the loudest ever. In a rip roaring finale the ladies once again triumphed in the jousting which brings the score now to:

GENTLEMEN 23 - 29 LADIES

Only a few shows left now - can the gents close the gap any more? Or are they doomed? Stay tuned.

My Monday wasn't over even then, as I had to drive to Essex that evening for a family funeral. Thankfully all went well and so back to, relative normality. My next two Henry appearances are this Friday with a return visit to Kingsclere School in Berkshire, then on Sunday another walkabout at Barrington Court near Ilminster. Come along and say hello!

Royal Jousting Tournament 2011 - some more pics!

2011-06-07T08:01:00.007+01:00

A load more pics from the recent Royal Jousting Tournament at Leeds Castle. Please note the driving rain in the last photo to prove how much the King sometimes has to suffer for his people...

Leeds Castle Royal Jousting Tournament 2011

2011-06-06T10:07:00.006+01:00

Sir Jasper du Barry, Lord High Badger Pursuivant to his Majesty, reveals his dirty big pokey thing to an astonished audience at Leeds Castle.

It was to be a busy week once more as the Jousting roadshow rolled into Leeds Castle again. It hardly seemed like a year since the previous one, and of course thinking back now it wasn't! I had been there for the September joust when I had spent the week dressed up as Friar Tuck - the deep fat friar. But here I was back as Henry VIII, on familiar turf.

I had driven up on Saturday 28th May to visit Amanda and James in Essex first, then there would be six days in Kent performing at the show and finally a day off and then a trip up to London with my sister Cathy to see David Tennant and Catherine Tate in "Much Ado About Nothing" at the Wyndhams Theatre in London. Well, that was the original idea. I managed to scupper that at the first hurdle by driving all the way to Essex before realising I had left the tickets for the show on my desk at home. Arse. Anyway, I had some great fun in Essex being thrashed repeatedly by my son at Mario Kart on the Wii console - he really has got to a point now where I can't beat him!

I drove down to Kent on the 30th May to see Cathy and Julian, and their two very bouncy and excitable dogs, Charlie and Oona. Going to Leeds Castle on the first day was nice - it's such a fabulous place to drive into when you're working there. You have to keep reminding yourself that, yes, this really is the place where you're working! The weather was looking a bit iffy on the first morning with threatening clouds and the possibility of rain ever present. I was not alone today though! Two lovely ladies, Zarrina and Diane, had contacted me via Facebook and my website and announced they would love to come along to one of my shows and be my Queens for the day. They had spent four months making their costumes and were very keen to show them off. I had cleared their appearance with Darlene and Becky in the Events Office at the Castle and they were there waiting for me at reception as I arrived on the first morning. Zarrina had brought along her husband and son as well to join in the fun. We went across to our dressing rooms and got ready - the ladies finally appearing in their stunning gowns - Zarrina as Anne Boleyn and Diane as Jane Seymour. Wonderful! They looked spectacular and as soon as we were down on site at the jousting arena we were mobbed by people with cameras. The plan was for Zarrina to be my queen in the Royal Box for the first show and Diane to take over for the second. Sadly, for the first show, just as we began our procession into the arena, the heavens opened, but luckily it was just a passing shower.

It was good to be working with the jousters again, Jeremy, Roland, Sam, Kim et al. As ever they made me very welcome and kept the laughs and fun flowing all week. The two ladies with me on the first day were obviously a big hit as after they departed, for the rest of the week I was repeatedly asked where they were! Shame they could only make the first day, but there is more work in the offing and I should be seeing them both again very soon.

On the Thursday we were asked to come in early so that Daybreak TV could come along and cover the show. So at 5.30am I arrived at Leeds Castle, the earliest I have ever seen the place aside from occasional early morning visits to the toilet when I was snowed in last December. We were to go "live" on several occasions as we were blessed with the presence of Daybreak's weather girl. During her second broadcast to the nation, the Knights had set up a mock joust to be going on behind her - in the middle of this was to be a fall by one of the Knights (Ashley), something they do in the shows every single day. As he fell, the weather girl screamed in alarm and Ashley did a fine impression of lying twitching on the grass. Apparently the fine intelligent viewers of Daybreak could not tell that this was a stunt fall and swamped the telephone lines at the TV Station asking if the nice Knight was alright. Despite propping him up in front of the cameras to prove he was OK, this was not enough, and so Ashley and, head honcho, Jeremy were summoned to their studio's the following day for a live interview on the sofa. This led to much mockery of Ashley who from there on was often referred to by Roland our master of ceremonies as the "Lorraine Kelly of the Tilt Yard". I did a couple of pieces to camera with the weather girl and then it was over, and still two hours before our shows started. So I hied myself back to my dressing room and had a crafty kip on my bed. The reaction to my appearance seemed quite good, aside from my Father who deemed that Daybreak was a "f*****g awful show for morons", which was harsh, but probably reasonably accurate.

It was hot for the rest of the week and I currently sport a very fetching sunburned nose. Amanda and James came down for a visit on the Saturday, bringing with them Amanda's friend Emma and her daughter Ella who goes to school with James. They enjoyed the show and James and Ella had great fun meeting the Knights and their horses afterwards. As ever, everyone at Leeds Castle was warm, welcoming and helpful. The weather held out until the final day where on Sunday it poured with rain. On the final day Roland, the master of ceremonies for the show, asked me if I would be MC for his forthcoming wedding in October to his lovely fiance Sally. I was very touched to be asked to do this and accepted happily. There is also the possibility of working with Diane and Zarrina again with the jousters at some shows in July at Hever Castle - watch this space for more!

My drive home on the Sunday was awful as the dear old M25 was shut in both directions and so I ended up taking a huge detour across country via Pease Pottage, Horsham and the delights of Guildford before finally finding my way back onto the M3. And all of this because I forgot the fecking tickets for David Tennant and Catherine Tate. So it is back on the road again tomorrow back up to Kent to Cathy and Julian and then a trip to the Theatre. I'd best not forget the tickets again.

Henry VII, Elizabeth of York, Haylands Primary and 500th post.

2011-05-25T08:29:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal (ginger lummox on the right), about to roast his chestnuts on an open fire. He was taken, screaming to a burns unit where Catherine of Aragon described his condition as "satisfactory". And now here's Daniel Corbett with ye weather - Daniel?

I have had a really lovely few days, I have to admit. My parents came down from Wales last Thursday and I have been unable to get rid of them since. All joking aside it has been lovely to see them. We've had some lovely days out, beginning with a trip for my mother to Ilminster to buy nearly all world stocks of shoes from Dyers the Department Store. I took them for lunch at the Halfway Inn at Pitney (definitely worth a visit folks) and then a leg stretching walk around the grounds of Barrington Court. We've also been down to Portland, stayed with friends in Weymouth, had lunch with relatives at Portesham, been down to Manaton to see more relatives and drank probably a bit too much red wine, but who cares?

To finally get a break from all this carousing I had to get up at the crack of dawn yesterday for a return visit to Haylands Primary School in Ryde on the Isle of Wight. I was booked on the 6.45am ferry from Lymington and for once, I arrived in time to collect my tickets and then catch the correct ferry without any need to panic, swear or drive like Nigel Mansell on amphetamines. I got to the school at about 7.45am which was about perfect. It was a lovely day for driving so early as well - bright and sunny and with this rather attractive halo effect around the early morning sun as it rose over the horizon. Not sure what that was all about, but if it was the Rapture we were promised at the weekend then the mad Bible chomping loony from the States got it all wrong. Probably more likely to do with another Icelandic volcano going a bit tonto. Haylands is a lovely school with some of the funniest and friendliest teachers you could ever wish to meet. Great fun seemed to be had by all for the majority of the day and the children joined in to a large degree which made it much easier for me. Sometimes with a Year 3 group, which is what this lot were, you can struggle, but they got it - and more - and reacted brilliantly. Lunch was a treat - very nice roast gammon, and then it was back to Tudor nonsense for a very silly afternoon. Jousting was a bit of a riot as some of the children seemed to be making up their own rules as they went along, but heck, I reckon that is called thinking outside the box. Or cheating. Never quite sure. It culminated in a fine win for a very talented ladies team. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 23 - 28 LADIES

Not sure if the Gents are going to get a chance to catch them now. Mind you, Ryan Giggs never thought he'd get caught either, but there you are.

Today my parents (Henry VIIth and Elizabeth of York) are off down to Devon again to visit some old friends of theirs. I am taking the opportunity of getting back into my own personal routine, and am heading over to Chard to see some friends. We have our final day together tomorrow before their Royal Visit comes to an end on Friday and they return to Wales. It has been so nice to see them both.

Next Henry outing is from the 31st May to 5th June at the Jousting Tournament at Leeds Castle in Kent. Come and say hello if you're there!

Birchfield Primary, Yeovil

2011-05-18T22:52:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal, looking camper than a row of pink tents, whilst lurking in the kitchens at Barrington Court. The Pot Noodle was ruined.

The drive across to Birchfield was nice and easy this morning. As I pulled into the car park of this lovely school in Yeovil I nearly ran into a recycling lorry that was busy...er... recycling things. That had just finished when I stepped from the car and was promptly nearly run over by two of the teachers arriving in a mud spattered VW Polo. Birchfield is a lovely school, always a pleasure to return to - friendly teachers, lovely kids and a nice atmosphere about the place. And it's local to me, which is definitely a plus point.

It was a largish group today, just under 100 children and the vast majority had dressed up. During the early part of the show I talk about some of the problems Henry suffered with Catherine of Aragon as they tried for children - about how the first child she gave birth to was a boy - I always then ask the group what they called the first child. Now this is a great test of Tudor knowledge as most people will guess at Edward, but of course the first, short-lived child was called Henry. Anyway, I asked the question and sure enough the first child I came to guessed "Edward", I informed them they were wrong. The second child guessed "Prince Edward" - nope still wrong. Amazingly about the next 6 kids I went to kept guessing different variations on the names Edward, Eddie, Prince Edward and even King Edward. You had to admire their tenacity.

Lunch was very nice and was spent in the company of the teachers and staff of this lovely school - but they were in and out like fiddlers elbows as they were being officially photographed this day. This caused a fair amount of moaning and distress for some of them. But I reckon they all looked fine! The afternoon went by at a fair old lick and the jousting was unbelievably loud and boisterous. It culminated in a fairly comfortable victory for the gentlemen - it wasn't even really close to be honest. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 23 - 27 LADIES

I finished to great acclaim and reloaded all the props back into the car. I had decided I needed to pop into central Yeovil to go to the bank. As I drove away from the school with streets still busy with children, I did what I always did which was to drive very slowly and carefully. Thankfully I did as coming along one small road a rather moth-eaten looking cat just suddenly wandered out of a garden and in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes and thankfully managed to avoid the suicidal moggy, but it certainly had it's nine lives quota reduced by one. I fought my way across town and got to the car park near the banks. It was closed and was being resurfaced by a bunch of arse scratching neanderthals in day glo overalls. I better head for home then.

Oh, and as I haven't mentioned it before... MANCHESTER CITY WON THE FA CUP ON SATURDAY! YES!!!!!! There, I feel better now... Got my folks coming to stay for a few days, with my next Henry show being a return visit to Haylands School in Ryde on the Isle of Wight.

Broadclyst Evening

2011-05-13T22:43:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal (left) showing amazement at the accuracy of Scotland Yard's latest e-fit of a suspect wanted for questioning in connection with the dismantling of the entire Church system in Britain.

The day I had done down at Broadclyst School back in February had apparently been a bit of a success. And a success to the extent that the lovely lady who organised the school day, Calli Walkerdine, decided she wanted me to come back and do an evening show for the parents! Well, who was I to argue?

From my place it takes about an hour to drive down to Broadclyst, just outside Exeter. It is a pleasant drive as well, mostly through beautiful countryside on the Somerset/Devon border. I was warmly greeted at the hall by Calli and introduced to various other members of staff and other halves from the school. I set up my props on a table and about 80+ seats were set out. I wandered off to get changed as I was due to start the show at 7.15pm. By half past seven people were STILL arriving and more and more chairs were having to be set up to accommodate them all. How nice! Well the evening went fantastically! Such a great group of people - they loved the show, lapped up the silly jokes and asides and really joined in brilliantly. Wonderful. I did my usual "Henry's Horrid History" talk but threw in loads of asides and some improvisation as well, and had them rocking in the aisles, which was very gratifying. We finished the evening with a very silly jousting tournament - one adult male, one adult female and two children, one boy and one girl, per team. The chairs were pushed back and the event took place. Great fun, particularly as the head teacher from the school was on one team, first endearing himself to the audience by going base over apex during one part of his run, and then cheating on the second half and getting his entire team disqualified! Loads of laughs during this point as well.

The evening finished with deafening applause and Calli insisting she pay me more than we had originally agreed as I had "been so excellent". How can you argue with someone like that? The drive back was very nice along quiet country roads. But it is always strange to finish a show, with a big audience and feeling the love and warmth of that audience, but then come back to a cold and empty flat. That is something I shall never get the hang of... :-(

FA Cup Final this weekend, so COME ON MANCHESTER CITY! We need to win our first silverware since 1976! Fingers, eyes and legs crossed. Next Henry show is on Wednesday at Birchfield Junior back in dear old Yeovil.

Who's sexy? OH! Hugh Sexey!

2011-05-07T17:12:00.002+01:00

A wonderful glimpse of the World's first "Club 18-30" holiday. Henry and the lads hit the "Field of the Cloth of Gold" in France. It would end in tears - TEARS I TELLS YA!

I love visiting this school near Wedmore in Somerset, mainly because of the name of it. It is a comedian's dream to have a school called "Hugh Sexey Middle School". I actually told some of the teachers that if they have a night out on the tiles they should have t-shirts made up with the words "Who's Sexy? Hugh Sexey, That's Who's Sexey!" This is almost tantamount to calling a school the "Hugh Jampton Junior" for all the Finbarr Saunders reaction you get from most people.

Another good reason for coming to this school is the welcome you get from absolutely everyone. From the caretaker and his welcoming cup of tea, through all the lovely teachers (and let me tell you folks, some of them are VERY lovely!) and down to the kids themselves, everyone seems genuinely pleased to see you and makes you very welcome. All of the children had dressed up in great costumes, ranging from Royalty right through to peasants. One little girl had even dressed up as Anne Boleyn AFTER her head had been chopped off. Her costume had the collar up over her head and she carried a pretend severed head under her arm. Fabulous. Such imagination from the parents and the children, it really makes the job more fun. It was a big group for the day - about 170 children in total, but they were very easy to get along with and seemed to love the show. The morning whipped through at what seemed an incredible speed. Lunch was a very nice plate of fish and chips, eaten with much laughter and banter with all the lovely lady teachers - something I could get used to!

I was on strict instructions to be finished by 3pm if possible as they were setting up for SATs exams as soon as I was done. So the afternoon went like the clappers, with loads of hysterical laughter and silliness and a really exciting jousting tournament which finally led to a gents victory. Our score now comes to:

GENTLEMEN 22 - 27 LADIES

Great stuff. I was a very good King as well, and finished smack on 3pm, with huge cheers from the children ringing round the hall. What a lovely day! What a lovely school! What a great looking group of teachers! (Ooh! Naughty King!). I have a couple of days off, but will be then back down to Broadclyst in Devon for a return visit, not to the school, but to do an evening talk for some of the parents of the children I visited a while back. Should be fun.

BBC Somerset & Falcon School (+ TGI Friday's!)

2011-05-05T17:28:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal showing some delighted children how to push two attacking dwarfs away, should they come at you unexpectedly.

When all the excitement of the Royal Wedding finally abated, life got back to normal. Except if you're called Osama Bin Laden, but then I suppose he was the only Bin taken out over the bank holiday weekend (Ba-doom-tish! I thank you, I am here all week folks). My first port of call after the long weekend was back to Taunton and a visit to the studios of BBC Somerset for another appearance on Emma Britton's show. I was a little "ahem" delicate after a ferocious struggle with a bottle of Shiraz the night before, so I reckon I must have cut something of an Oliver Reed figure as I lumbered in through their front door. I was on the panel this morning with the manager of the Octagon Theatre in Yeovil, who seemed like a very nice chap, and even took one of my cards, so you never know. Our main discussions were about the Yes and No campaign for the AV voting system, and the death of Bin Laden and was it now time for Allied forces to return from Afghanistan. So a real laugh a minute as you can guess.

After finishing on the show I then drove up to Essex to spend the evening with Amanda and James, before my Henry show on the Wednesday at Falcon Junior School in Sprouston in the suburbs of Norwich. It was lovely to see Amanda and James, I offered to take them out for a meal - James' idea of culinary excellence is Pizza Hut, but I have to admit Mummy and I were completely Hutted out by now and so we told him a little white lie and said it was closed for decoration. We didn't travel that much further up the food chain to be honest and chose instead to take James to TGI Friday's at Festival Leisure Park in Basildon, or Bas Vegas as it is affectionately referred to by the locals. We actually had a superb meal, but you could honestly hear your arteries hardening as you ate. On the table behind us, a family of well tattooed parents were settling their child in a high chair. She must only have been about a year old at most - and already with double pierced ears. Classy. James and Amanda finished off with massive ice creams in Knickerbocker glory glasses! Smashing.

I was up at the crack of dawn for the drive up to Norfolk. It was really pleasant - a bright, sunny, piercingly cold morning. The dazzling early morning sun soon raised the temperatures, but there was enough northerly wind to cool things down a little. Falcon School is a marvellous place - I love visiting there. You always get really cool children and lovely teachers. It was the last time I shall see a couple of the lovely ladies I usually see - they are both retiring in the summer, it really won't be the same without them. The group of children, about 75 of them, started off quietly, but as the morning wore on they got more and more excited and the afternoon was a riot - loads of laughs all round and everyone seemed to really enjoy it! The jousting was a cracker, two very good teams, but as ever it seems, the ladies stormed to a fantastic and well deserved victory. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 21 - 27 LADIES

They are really starting to get away again. Come along gents! Do it for all mankind!

I had a nice evening with Amanda and James, being thrashed on Mario Kart by my son, who returned from school this day to announce he had won a long jump competition in his year. This must be in his genes as his (and my) cousin is none other than Lynn "The Leap" Davies who won Olympic Gold in the long jump in Tokyo in 1964. We then blew James' mind a bit further by letting him know his other distant cousin through me (Lily Cole) was appearing in Doctor Who this weekend. This was almost too much information for an 8 year-old brain to handle, but I think he will enjoy the episode when he sees it!

I drove back to Somerset this morning. The only two things of note to happen on the journey was a 20 minute hold up on the M3 after a particularly nasty looking pile up that necessitated the attendance of the air ambulance. Then when I stopped for fuel on the A303 I had to endure one of my pet hates - when you are paying for your stuff you get the next customer behind you coming up and standing next to you at the counter. That really pisses me off when people do this - can't they just step a couple of paces back? Give you a bit of room? This is one of the few times I am glad I am large enough to appear on ordnance survey maps. You wait till they are particularly close, then step back, crushing your heel onto their big toe. They don't half move a bit sharpish then! Of course you can then say "Oh, sorry mate, didn't realise you were standing so STUPIDLY close to me!" Leaving out the STUPIDLY bit of course, much as I would love to leave it in.

Next stop? Tomorrow a return visit to the splendidly named Hugh Sexey Middle School at Wedmore in Somerset. Fun!

Preston School, Royal Weddings & Barrington Court

2011-04-29T18:11:00.002+01:00

Barrington Court. Not Westminster Abbey. I reckon my invite is still in the post to be honest.

The last Royal Wedding that I really remember was when Prince Andrew married Sarah Ferguson in 1986. I was laid up with a badly damaged knee and had no option but to watch the whole thing on TV at the time - I think my parents were punishing me at the time by tuning the telly to the wedding and then hiding the remote control, safe in the knowledge I was unable to walk across the room to find it. My other abiding memory of that wedding was the British gutter press' and their immediate and utter open dislike of Sarah Ferguson from day one. Her main problem, it seemed to me, was that she wasn't Princess Diana. Thank the Lord for that really.

This time around for Prince William and Kate Middleton's bash there was similar amounts of press enthusiasm and much over use of the phrase "Diana's legacy". I had also been asked to appear at Preston Primary School in Yeovil for their party to celebrate the wedding on the day before the big event. I turned up at this lovely school bright and early and was soon out in the playground greeting the children and parents alike as they arrived. About 99% of the children had come either as Princes or Princesses. Some of the really little ones in Reception year looked so cute. All the teachers and staff had gone for the Royal look, including the head who was in a pure white flowing medieval dress. I asked her if she was the sacrificial victim for later on! I did two groups in the morning. First off it was the little ones - Reception class through to year 3. They were very enthusiastic, but hard work, especially the little ones who mostly had the attention span of goldfish. But I persevered and got some good laughs out of them, and all the staff seemed to enjoy it. When that had finished I thought I would get a five or ten minute break, but I didn't as they immediately started bringing in the next group - years 4 to 6. This lot were much easier to talk to and I did my usual life and times of Henry talk for them, much to their amusement. And suddenly it was all over! The children were off for a picnic in the grounds of the school and I was on my way back to Crewkerne.

This morning I got up and turned on the radio by my bed. It immediately went completely haywire and broke. Hmmmm. Perhaps my radio is a republican and knew about the Royal Wedding. Whatever, I went into my front room and switched on the TV and even at this early hour the BBC AND ITV were showing endless footage of the already crowded streets of London whilst commentators told us that "this is where the Royal Coach will come past" and "this is where Prince Harry will crash his car" etc etc. And another thing, doesn't Prince Harry look like his Dad? Shame he wasn't invited... (Ooh! Saucer of cream for the King). I was due over at Barrington Court for a walk about and then for a small tea party for visitors involving free cups of tea and slices of cake to celebrate the Royal Wedding.

To be honest I thought it was going to be a disaster as the early part of my walkabout showed so few people in the grounds of Barrington Court that I thought I had arrived at a hermit's convention. However as the afternoon progressed a few more people arrived, but it still wasn't looking very hopeful. Then smack on 3pm, when we were to serve the tea and cake, the sun came out spectacularly and people appeared from all over the place! It was packed out! Great fun was had by all and it was nice to have visitors from abroad including France, Germany, Australia and New Zealand.

Next Henry appearances are on BBC Somerset again with Emma Britton on Tuesday morning and then up at Falcon Junior in Norwich on Wednesday.

West Pennard

2011-04-27T17:30:00.003+01:00

My son James after asking me for an ice cream at Cilgerran Castle. Treat 'em mean, folks...

Easter holidays had been fun. I had been up to Essex for a few days with Amanda and James, taking James to see "Gnomeo and Juliet" which he loved! Next he and I headed down to Wales for a few days with my parents at Newcastle Emlyn. Again, we had a fine time including another cinema trip to see "Rio" and also to a place called Clerkenhill Adventure Farm where you can take part in Frisbee golf, amongst other things, and the beautiful Cilgerran Castle as you can see above. Finally it was time for me to head back to Somerset and face the stark reality of dressing up as a Tudor despot for a living... And if you can find a more contradictory end to a sentence I will pay you!

West Pennard was my first port of call after Easter. I love West Pennard - it is a fantastic school and it is always good to see Alex Wheat, the class teacher I deal with, and the slightly insane but wonderfully friendly Ian Gouge. My drive over wasn't very good - everything that could possibly slow me down did! Tractors, lorries, caravans - you name it, I copped it. By the time I got to the school the children were already arriving and the small parking area for staff cars was packed. I had nowhere else to go other than park in one of the two disabled parking bays. I left a note on the dashboard to the effect that there was nowhere else for me to put the car and I couldn't eat it, so therefore here I was parked and if anyone objected and wanted me to move I would be happy to.

The day went quite well - it was a bit difficult as the group this day, this was their first of the Tudor curriculum, so some of my jokes and asides did fly over their heads and splat on the walls behind them. The morning finished with a funny question and answer session in the classroom. Lunch was an oddity called a Beany Blast, or something and was a pie made with baked beans and cheese, and was surprisingly delicious. The afternoon session was typically rumbustious and we had great fun dragging Ian Gouge out of his year 6 class and putting him in the stocks! The jousting ended with a win for the Gentlemen - at last! This now makes the ongoing score:

GENTLEMEN 21 - 26 LADIES

Wonderful stuff.

Now, unless you have been living under a rock you might just have noticed that there is a Royal Wedding going on this Friday. Therefore to help celebrate this tomorrow I am off to Preston Junior School in Yeovil for a morning appearance at their school to help the children celebrate the day. Should be fun. All this fuss over one Royal Wedding - I had SIX! Beat that! (Oh, and six Mother in Laws...)

Fear and Loathing in Stranraer

2011-04-12T18:29:00.005+01:00

Up until fairly recently I thought the actual name of the club was "Stranraer Nil". Abandon hope, all ye who enter here... The gates to the mighty Stair Park. At some points over the weekend I doubted I would see this...

Some years ago when I was a child, I was given a book about British Football. It was one of these big hefty tomes that listed not only the stuff that would interest kids like me (i.e. what was Stan Bowles idea of a great night out - generally gambling, women, gambling, alcohol, more gambling and then a dangerous amount of gambling - continue until poverty or death, whichever came sooner), but also had a very large section of footballing statistics. One of the things it boasted was a full list of every final league table and FA and Scottish FA Cup rounds from 1872 until about 1981. A friend of mine and I took great delight in going through the Scottish teams and picking out the silly names - things like Gala Fairydean, Third Lanarkshire Riflemans Volunteers (hard to chant that one in a crowd when you've had a skinfull) and finally, of course, the wonderfully named Keith. It just looks good on a scoreboard: Celtic 23 Keith 0. Poor old Keith, he didn't deserve that. Finally, almost succumbing to boredom we then looked to see which team in the Scottish leagues had the worst record, who had never been out of the bottom division, and up until 1981 when these records ceased we discovered it was Stranraer. And at that moment, my interest was born.

I had no actual idea where Stranraer was, but I soon found out. And it was the most remote team in the whole of the Scottish league. Stranraer is closer to Belfast than it is to Glasgow. It sits, on the shores of Loch Ryan, on the northern side of the isthmus connecting the Rhins of Galloway to the mainland. Which basically means its a bloody long way from anywhere. I sometimes shared my interest with Stranraer FC with various friends, including Mark Beed who was lucky enough to have been there many times as he was a native of Belfast and one of Stranraer's main reasons for existing, is as a ferry port to Northern Ireland. Our mutual interest in Stranraer reached a peak in the early 90's when I produced several joke magazines supposedly based on a local paper in the area - called "The Wigtownshire Thunderer" it contained reports on fictitious Stranraer matches (in which they would inevitably be thrashed by such mighty teams as a Kirkcudbright Paper Boys Under 13 2nd XI) and adverts from such fine local businesses as "Winesoak and Sporran - Solicitors, Estate Agents and International Chanteuses" etc. All very silly. I even wrote to Stair Park, Stranraer's home ground and told them of our long distance love of the club. They replied and sent some free old programmes from former matches. Even my Dad caught the bug, and Stranraer were continued to be admired and followed from afar. I always had a feeling that one day I would go there.

Late last year I was checking through Stranraer's fixture list for the rest of this season and noticed that on April 9th 2011 they would be playing at home against East Stirlingshire. Now East Stirlingshire have almost over taken the mantle of "most pathetic team in Scotland" and have taken up the challenge with gusto having managed to finish rock bottom of the Scottish Third Division many times over the past few years. So a chance to see them in action against the mighty Stranraer sounded good - added to which April 9th just happens to be my Father's birthday! I mentioned the idea to him of going up to see the match, thinking he'd just go "yeah, right..." and go off and mow the lawn as Fathers are won't to do from time to time, but he didn't, he actually liked the idea. So we decided this was it - it would happen. At Christmas I treated my Father and I to Stranraer scarves and badges in readiness for our expedition to the north. The time got closer - I mentioned the proposed trip to various friends, most of whom just patted me on the head and walked away quickly. One friend even asked me if my father was dying - was this visit to see Stranraer play a football match some sort of "bucket list" activity? I reassured them it wasn't. So on April 7th 2011 I drove out to Wales to stay at my parents, ready for the drive north on the 8th.

Now getting from South Wales to the motorway network of the UK is not the easiest thing in the world. You could go all the way down the M4 and pick up the M5 just over the bridge, but that seemed like more sideways movement than your average Ray Wilkins pass, so we decided to strike out north and head up through the country to pick up the motorways near Chester. Bad move. Stupendously bad move. It just took forever. There is no direct route, there are lots and lots of mountains, wibbly-wobbly little roads and, just to add to the mayhem, a closed road near Caeder Idris which involved us making a 30-mile detour round the peninsula near Barford just to get back on the road to Lake Bala. But the weather was nice, the scenery stunning, the roads relatively clear, my father's car (a very nice Mercedes - fresh from having a new alternator fitter two days previously) was purring along the road like a kitten, and life was very tolerable. We had left Newcastle Emlyn at 7.30am. We finally got onto the M56, the first part of the motorway network we had seen, at almost exactly 12 noon. We put a few miles under our belts on the M6 and stopped at the Charnock Richard services for a quick "easing of springs" and to grab a bit of lunch. I bought us two sandwiches, two packs of crisps and a cold drink each. It came to nearly £13. What a rip off these places are. I took over the driving for the next section.

We sailed along, up past Liverpool and Manchester, past Lancaster, Blackpool and Preston, and on up into Cumbria. We were just approaching Carlisle at a rate of knots when a big warning sign suddenly lit up on the dash board. "Alternator Fault - Go to Workshop NOW!" You don't argue with messages from Mercedes like that, especially if you read it with a vicious German accent. We pulled off the motorway and studied all the Mercedes dealership stuff my Father had with him - there was a dealership in Carlisle. We made our way there.

After some time sitting on our jacksies in the Mercedes waiting room we were told the car needed a new alternator, the one my father had had fitted two days previously was NOT a Mercedes one and was only second hand and reconditioned and was basically going haywire. A new one was likely to cost somewhere in the region of £1,000 and would not be ready until Monday. Oh dear. I was due in Yeovil on Monday for a Henry VIII talk at their local Probus club. The car was too dangerous to drive as it was - if the alternator packed up completely we could lose all power and that would include steering, brakes etc. The only course of action was to go for the new part and get ourselves a hire car, continue onto Stranraer with that and see if I could contact Yeovil Probus by phone, but it would be difficult as I had no contact details with me. Enterprise Car Hire loaned us a brand new Hyundai Santa Fe, a neat little 4x4 vehicle and we fought our way out of Carlisle as the rush hour really kicked in. If you have never experienced a Carlisle rush hour, then try not to - for such a small town it is HUGE. We got back on the M6, crossed over the border and turned onto the A75 towards Stranraer. We felt like we were nearly there. Then we saw the first road sign. "Stranraer 98 miles". 98!? MILES?? Jesus...

We were booked into a hotel at Portpatrick, about 6 miles out of Stranraer, as most of the hotels we could find in the town bore a worrying resemblance to the farmhouse in the "Texas Chainsaw Massacre". The drive out to Stranraer along the A75 starts off very unpromising, but you are soon rewarded with beautiful rolling countryside, sea loch views and even mountains looming about you. The road ran on and on, the miles clicked over and we soon found ourselves ever closer to the promised land of the Portpatrick Hotel. And then, we were there! Oh dear... It's like The Ritz gone to seed. Paint on the outside of the building is off white, and peeling. Everything has a slightly down at heel look about it. The view down into Portpatrick's charming little harbour is very picturesque though. We booked in and were told we had about 20 minutes if we wanted an evening meal as they stopped serving at 8pm. We dashed up to our rooms, dumped our cases and did very passable Usain Bolt impressions to get down to the dining hall. It was a typical British seaside resort dining hall - you sit close enough to every other dining couple or group to hear every single word of their conversation. The meal choice was limited to either "chicken in sauce or gravy" or "Salmon in sauce or gravy". Wow. We both went for the chicken in sauce, which turned out to be a pre-cooked deathly white chicken breast with what appeared to be a yellow soup of some sort thrown over it. This was all served with the usual British hotel side order of blanched wraith-like vegetables and solid waxy potatoes. The best part of the meal for me was when my Father's starter came out. He'd ordered a Caesar Salad and was presented with a tiny side plate sized dish with approximately six tiny emaciated and limp bits of rocket lettuce leaf, with seven greasy looking croutons thrown over it and a thimble full of Caesar dressing drizzled over this. His face was a picture - no words were needed. To add to our enjoyment of the evening, in the dining room was an automatic digital grand piano that played itself - a lot. High tempo jolly versions of "Roll out the Barrels" would boom from it's hidden speakers, then the "Theme from Hawaii 5-0" would bounce along. After about five songs it would then go back to the start and repeat them, and repeat them. It was enough to make a serious music lover weep. We retired to the bar, had a couple of stiff whisky's and then headed for our rooms.

Another reason to come up to Stranraer and the area was for my Father to catch up with an ex-serviceman pal of his. They had served in Aden with the RAF Regiment in the 50's and have recently got back in touch again via the internet. Neither my Father or his friend John had seen each other in over 50 years, but were eager for the meeting. All we knew was that John would be coming from his home in Dumfries to Portpatrick on the Saturday morning. After breakfast we hung around in the hotel reading our newspapers waiting in case John turned up. It got later and later and still there was no sign. I was eager to get over to Stranraer and see where the heck Stair Park was (the football team's home ground). I left Dad at the hotel and drove over to Stranraer. The town is neither big, nor pretty, but it has it's moments. I drove round and round and could find not even a sign indicating where the ground might be. Finally on coming back into the town again from the north western side I saw a tiny, apologetic sign saying "football traffic this way" and pointing left. I followed this until I was on the London Road and there, just behind a sweet little children's playground in a typical Victorian municipal park was Stair Park football ground. There seemed precious little in the way of parking, so I guessed we had to get there early. I drove back to the hotel fully expecting to find my father and John regaling each other with stories of old, but my father was sat by himself in the lounge reading his newspaper still. No sign of John again. We had a pint in the bar and a sandwich for lunch, and still there was no arrival of John. We were starting to get worried. It finally got to 1.30pm and we decided he was not coming, and packed ourselves up and drove over to Stranraer. As it was John never turned up, but I think he and Dad have sorted out what went wrong. Oh, and if you're interested with the help of my Mother back in Wales we managed to contact Yeovil Probus and the show was postponed until next year - a relief. Back to Stranraer...

We parked right by the gates of Stair Park and went in. It is quite an attractive little ground dominated on one side by a new stand. The other four sides are a little more in keeping with a non-league ground in England, with the area behind the goal to your right (as you look at the pitch from the grandstand) being simple grass terracing about 10 feet high. We were very warmly greeted at the ground, and when people discovered we'd come all the way from South Wales and Somerset just to see this match, our stock rose incredibly. We were greeted by an elderly gentleman called John who gave us some of the background on the club, he then introduced us to the team manager, a ferocious sun tanned terrifyingly sinewy man called Keith Knox who crushed both of our offered hands and then returned them. He offered to give us a tour round the ground and meet the players after the match. As I said to my father as we went through the turnstile, we'd only do that if Stranraer won - it might be a bit embarrassing if they'd just been stuffed. We sat high up at the back of the stand right on the halfway line - it was a lovely view, not only of the pitch but of the distant mountains and sea you can see around you. The teams warmed up and there was much ooh-ing and ahh-ing from the Stranraer faithful about their big French centre forward, the brilliantly named Armand Oné. He looks a bit like Emile Heskey - large, dark and immovable. He'd scored a stack of goals this season and you could tell he was a big favourite with the locals, however for the start of this match, he was only on the bench. East Stirlingshire, replete in their black and white hooped shirts, ran out to the cheers of their entire away support - seven (I counted them) incredibly drunk men, some of them wearing tam o'shanters, and one waving a huge skull and cross bones flag with ESFC emblazoned across it. Stranraer then appeared and the match was on! It was a bit blood and thunder at places - hefty bone crunching tackles flying in, but there was some odd moments of finesse to admire, particularly from two of Stranraer's players - captain Danny Mitchell, and playmaker Scott Agnew. Finally, about mid-way through the first half, after taking a short corner, Stranraer powered in a bullet header from just outside the six yard box - 1-0 to Stranraer. Half time came and went, then we continued apace for the second half. Stranraer constantly looked the better team and in the 65th minute they thumped in their second from another corner. 2-0 to Stranraer. After about 70 minutes a ripple of excitement ran through the crowd - Armand Oné was coming on! He ran on to great acclaim and then did - absolutely nothing. He was obviously more like Emile Heskey than I realised. Really, apart from one neat flick-on his sum total contribution to the game was just short of bugger all. Then, in the very last minute, Stranraer got a free kick in a very promising position just outside the box. Before kick off, Oné had been practising taking free kicks from just such a position and had curled, smashed and drifted shot after shot past a despairing reserve goal-keeper. This was going to be good. A hushed silence settled over the ground as Oné stood over the ball. He took about four paces back, then ran up and..... smashed the ball many miles over the goal and the stand, and it sailed off into the sunset towards Portpatrick. The final whistle blew. Dad and I waited downstairs for a possible tour of the ground, but there was lots of kids hanging around desperate to get souvenir footballs signed by the squad, and after about 15 minutes we gave up and went back to the car. We had finally done it - we had seen Stranraer play a match, and they had let us down by comfortably winning 2-0. What a shame! Somewhere near Portpatrick a surprised fisherman was wondering where the hell that football had come from that had just smacked him on the back of the head - if you hadn't guessed it was from Oné with love.

We have lift off... THAT free kick from Armand Oné just before it went into orbit and brained a fisherman in Portpatrick.

Back at the hotel there was no message from Dad's friend John, so we went and had dinner. It was a minor improvement on the previous night - a sort of school dinners approximation of a roast beef dinner, but the automatic piano was still hammering away in the corner belting out "Green Door", "Blue Moon" and various other "timeless classics". i.e. crap. We had been promised that on the Saturday night there would be entertainment in the lounge bar - an accordionist who was very popular apparently and that getting a seat early was a must if you wanted to see him. While we were finishing our puddings in the dining room, he began in the lounge, but we could still hear him. Now I hate accordion music, it does nothing for me and this was very run of the mill ordinary "Mist Covered Mountains" usual Scottish fayre. We finished our meals and walked out past the lounge, expecting to find it packed. It wasn't. A grim faced couple sat right in the middle seats in front of the musician, and that was it. There was no one else in the room as he honked merrily away in the corner. And the poor sods couldn't get up and walk out - how can you when you're the only ones there? Dad and I were very sympathetic and laughed like drains. As we sat in the bar downing some more whisky a terrible sound began emanating from the lounge as well as the accordion. It was a sort of high pitched nasal vibrato bleating. What the hell was it? It was the accordionists singing voice. This set us off guffawing again, little heathens that we were. It was time for bed.

We checked out after breakfast on the Sunday morning and headed back along the A75 towards Carlisle. Once in Carlisle we parked up in a retail outlet estate and pondered our next move. There was a Premier Inn right next door, but despite their advertised "from only £29 per night", they actually wanted £61 per person per night for room early. We headed down towards Penrith for a meet up with my friends Andy and Kate Blundell at their antiques workshop at Temple Sowerby (yes, I know John Summers is reading this and thinking why didn't he come and see me? We had very little time and weren't even supposed to see Andy and Kate, John, but I promise to come and see you next time, honest!) and on the way see if we could find a nice little pub which did bed and breakfast. Well we did just that, at a delightful little village called Armathwaite with a pub called The Fox and Pheasant Inn. Check them out at http://www.foxandpheasantinn.co.uk/ and if in the area go and see them, it is worth it. We went down to see Andy and Kate, and Andy talked to us all round his workshop, and then all round his show room, and then in his back garden over tea. He scarcely paused for breath for about 2 hours. Very impressive! But it was great to see them both. Such a lovely couple.

Back at the Fox and Pheasant music was being played on folky instruments and a man was handing out bowls of a pease pudding type dish. Apparently this was Carling Sunday which is only celebrated in certain parts of northern England and Cumbria on the weekend before Easter. The split peas or Carlings are boiled up with a knuckle of ham and then served with a dollop of butter in them, a big splash of vinegar and then a dousing of pepper. Delicious! He assured us this was a traditional thing in the north of England. I personally think he was a brilliant itinerant split pea salesman making a fast buck, but it was a bit different and fun.

Monday morning we drove back up to Carlisle, picked up the repaired Mercedes, said goodbye to the Santa Fe and headed on back down the M6. We paused for lunch at a very nice pub called The Mill somewhere near Stafford, then carried on down to the M50 and then along the A40. Finally, at about 5.40pm we were back at Newcastle Emlyn. It had been a long, fun, at times difficult, expensive but very memorable trip. When I mentioned the idea of going to see Berwick Rangers play sometime soon my father beat me unconscious with a rolled up copy of the Daily Telegraph. I took that as a "maybe". I drove back to Somerset this morning - I still can't believe we did it.

Easter holidays now for Henry VIII. The next show is on the 26th April at West Pennard School near Glastonbury. Should be a fun one like it always is up there. But no accordion music and singing, please.

Somerton Infants

2011-04-06T17:35:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal on his way home from the stock exchange. (Geddit???)

I never ever do infant school visits as most of the Key Stage 1 pupils just won't get the talky bits I do as Henry. However, I was contacted by Somerton Infants a while back, I explained my situation with being a talky show, but the teachers insisted they wanted Henry VIII at their school! So I worked out a day for the little 'uns with as little of the lengthy wordy sections as possible. I drove up to this delightful Somerset town through fantastic spring sunshine - it seems to have been a long time coming, but it was welcome anyway. I wasn't due to start at the school until about 11am anyway, so it was a nice lie in and lazy-ish morning for me. The drive up was great only partially spoilt by what seemed to be a larger than normal amount of road-kill about. Wherever I went there was squashed this, flattened that - all just about intact enough to see what they had originally been in the first place. It sent my strange mind wandering. How about a children's TV show and series of books all about these mangled remains? We could have great fun thinking up characters names! Splatty Squirrel! Phlattened Pheasant! Bloaty Badger! Hammered Hedgehog! Exploded Rook! Crunched Crow! Oh the fun! Imagine what the jigsaws would be like?

But enough of this repulsiveness. The school itself was a delight - very bright and friendly, lovely teachers (the single dark haired lady in particular got my vote!) and very, VERY excitable young children! I did a walk around first to the classrooms, meeting each of the years as I went. Some of the questions in these early sections were hilarious - one little girl wanted to know if the costume I was wearing was the sort of thing Henry wore when he went to a "bank account" (sic). It suddenly dawned on me that she meant "banquet" - how sweet. I finished the morning session with a talk in the hall, taking little snippets here and there from my normal talk. I ended up with some music and the children seemed to really enjoy it.

Lunch was yummy again - more pasta and bolognese sauce as I got the other day from Noremarsh Junior. This was equally tasty and very filling. The afternoon was spent with yet another jousting tournament. Some of the really little ones struggled with the lance and horse, but they soldiered on, mostly with huge grins spread across their faces! And guess what? The ladies won AGAIN! Unbelievable. The score now goes to:

GENTLEMEN 20 - 26 LADIES

It really is as one sided as Spurs' lame efforts in the Champions League against Real Madrid last night (snigger, snigger). All that and a nice drive home through beautiful Somerset countryside, in bright sunshine and with a cheque in my pocket from the school. Marvellous. Tomorrow I am off to Wales to pick up my father for our "Stranraer Sojourn!" Keep reading this blog in the next few days to find out what happened.

Noremarsh Junior, Wootton Bassett

2011-04-05T15:32:00.004+01:00

Good King Hal about to have a light supper (14 roast oxes, 26 roast sheep, 342 chickens, Eric the late lamented Royal Turbot and a small Diet Coke - got to watch the pounds) with a few close chums.

I had last visited Noremarsh School in Wootton Bassett a couple of years ago. The town, famously in the news in recent years, is close to Swindon, which is one of those sorts of towns in Wiltshire that is incredibly difficult to get to from Somerset. There is no real obvious direct route. One way suggested by my sat nav was to drive up the M5 and then miles and miles along the M4 which just smacked of idiocy to me. In the end I did a sort of hotch-potch of A303, A350, A361 etc etc. This also included a big hold up around the suburban delights of Chippenham. The journey seemed a lot longer as there was no Chris Evans on Radio 2 this morning and instead I had to endure Richard Madeley and his appalling taste in music.

I got to Noremarsh school and it is, just like last time, and absolute delight. I am greeted by Mrs Parker who booked me the previous time - a lovely lady originally from Weston-super-Mare. No wonder she moved. It was a truly fun day all round, with delightful teachers, great kids, and lots of good humour and joking all day. I was using the head teacher's office as my dressing room, bless him, which meant me evicting him at various points during the day so I could rip all my clothes off (and no one wants to see that, trust me). But he was very good natured about it and even rigged up a blind on the window in his door so I wouldn't upset any passing impressionable types.

Lunch was a real rarity - a school dinner that was (1) delicious, (2) in no need of any seasoning to give it flavour, and (3) filling! It was a pasta bake with a bolognese type sauce and with cheese crumbled over the top. I could get used to this very easily.

The afternoon was the best fun I have had in a long time. Really funny, laugh out loud kids, me pretending to flirt with one of the teachers (which brought some of the kids to the point of hysterics they laughed so much), a great stocks session and finished off with the usual pounding finale of the jousting tournament. This was of a really high quality with the final result in the balance almost all the way, but was won, inevitably so it seems, by the ladies team. They now score as follows:

GENTLEMEN 20 - 25 LADIES

Great stuff. I packed up and was soon on my way home. All this and Manchester City sticking 5 goals past Sunderland at the weekend. How marvellous.

There was one really funny spot to the day - two little girls who said that I shouted too much, and burst into tears nearly every time I said or did anything. When I asked the teachers if they were alright, their reply was refreshing in it's honesty. "Oh, those two, don't worry about them, they cry at everything. They're just pathetic!" So there you go!

I am off to Somerton Infants tomorrow up near Glastonbury for a banquet with the little ones up there, then on Thursday I begin a long journey that will finish in, of all places, Stranraer. Watch this blog for more info soon!

Parwich Primary, Derbyshire

2011-03-31T23:08:00.003+01:00

Good King Hal attempts to bring peace to the Middle East, however the child is obviously a music lover and appears to be trying to escape.

I had never done a Henry show in Derbyshire before, so this was a real first for me. I was going to be driving up from Essex having spent some time with Amanda and James. Once more I was booked into one of those charming characterful Travelodge places, so beloved of all commercial travellers. Now my sat nav is not the most reliable thing in my possession at the moment, and on the Travelodge website it suggested you typed in another post code for the hotel than the one it officially had. Who was I to argue with that? I followed the sat nav's directions all the way up to the outskirts of Ashbourne near the Peak District, and then headed off for where it assured me the hotel would be. WRONG again. Nothing - not a sausage. I found a small petrol station and wandered in through the driving rain to ask for directions. The nice lady behind the counter smiled at me as I came in. Before I could even say a word she said "You're looking for the Travelodge, aren't you?" Was I that obvious? Apparently EVERYONE who goes into that petrol station and doesn't buy fuel has been sent there by their sat nav with the post code given to them by Travelodge in the first place! Or was she making an unsubtle pass at me? No, of course she wasn't.

I drove back the way she had shown me and saw that the hotel stood in what was basically glorified waste ground with only a Harvester-style plastic pub anywhere near it. Now I love pubs, good old fashioned English pubs. These modern plastic pubs have about as much in common with a proper English pub as I do with Jonathan Rhys-Myers. Yes, we both play Henry VIII but only one of us is even vaguely attractive to the opposite sex. So the idea of a plate of "Surf'n'turf with a complimentary salad bar to visit, and with a nice foamy pint of John Smith's Smooth Flow to wash it all down!" filled me with shuddering dread, so I was far more pleased to see that there was a Marks and Spencer food store just up the road, and so I headed there to stock up for the evening. I came back, checked into the hotel and wandered up to my room. It was a much newer hotel than the one I stayed in recently when in Shrewsbury, with the only difference I could see that the room was smaller and the bathroom considerably so. My car was one of only three in the car park at that time. I had just settled into the room when I heard the unmistakable sound of stiletto heels on concrete outside - being the nosey git I am I peaked out the window. There was a dazzling glamorous blonde lady in a steaming clinch with a man in a business suit. I looked on in awe as they appeared to be on the point of devouring each other - and what were they doing coming out of a nice Travelodge at about 4pm on a weekday? Perhaps they worked there! Perhaps they had just finished a hard shift stripping beds and replenishing complimentary tea and coffee sachets in the rooms and were congratulating each other with a vacuum like snog in the car park? They eventually disentangled each other and got into separate cars. As they drove off I could see a baby seat in the back of the business suited man's car. Now I may be putting two and two together and making 5,834, but my immediate thought was "what a bastard". I hope I was wrong.

I was up bright and early this morning and was soon driving up through the delightful town of Ashbourne and out into the countryside to find Parwich. In the drizzly incessant rain everything looked a bit grey and depressing. I soon found it and eventually the old Victorian School. I had only been there a few minutes when Laura Smith, the teacher who had booked me for the day, arrived. She was absolutely charming - one of the nicest ladies I have met in a long time. The plan was to do the morning "talky" stuff in the school classroom, and then in the afternoon to travel down to the village hall for the jousting etc. A bit like we had done at Broadclyst in Devon recently. It was a smallish group of about 26 children with a range of ages from years 3, 4, 5 & 6. Quite a few of them had come along in fabulous Tudor costumes. We had a great morning and finished off with a lovely meal of sweet and sour pork - delicious! I then moved all the gear down to the village hall, a delightful brand new building with a fine resonant main room. I went into the large disabled loo to get changed before the children came over and was horrified to discover an enormous "Richard the Third" lurking, unflushed in the toilet there. It looked like King Kong's finger and was rapidly flushed away by yours truly. The deeply worrying thing about it was that it was lying in the pan completely on it's own - no used toilet paper! ARGH! Did the person who gave birth to this leviathan simply haul up their trolleys at the end of the session and, unable to contemplate the thought of drowning their new born dreadnought, simply waddled off into the sunset? It scarcely bares thinking about. Anyway, rapidly changing the subject, the afternoon was a belter with a fantastic stocks session followed by an even better jousting tournament. We were joined by the infants from years 1 & 2 to cheer on the teams for this, and in culminated, yet again in a fine win by a very good ladies team. This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 20 - 24 LADIES

They are starting to get away again! I finally packed away, said goodbye to Laura Smith, and was on my way home. Parwich looked so much nicer in the bright sunshine - a really beautiful place, very quaint and definitely worth a return visit. I'll be back! I left Parwich at about 3.40pm - I arrived at my place in Crewkerne at almost smack on 7pm, tired but pleased to be home again for the first time in well over a week. I have tomorrow off, which must be an April Fool Joke of some sort or other, and am next being Henry on Monday when I make a return visit to Noremarsh School in Wootton Bassett in Wiltshire - close to where Andy Partridge lives in Swindon! HELLO ANDY!

Radlett Prep School

2011-03-30T08:42:00.003+01:00

Would you believe that Good King Hal had trouble finding this school? And it has an automatic toilet and a Ukrainian teacher. Remarkable.

I hate loathe and detest the M25 more than I can possibly let most of you know. It is a road that brings me only bad memories of hot static traffic jams, idiot lane hoggers and more queueing. Therefore anytime I have to go anywhere near this road I try to do it as out of hours as possible. I have been staying in Essex for the past few days - Basildon to be precise. Now from sunny Basildon to Radlett, where the school is, can be no longer than about 45 minutes - but that would be 45 minutes on an M25 with no roadworks, no other traffic - NOTHING. That never, ever happens. The nearest you can get to it is by driving as early or as late as you can possibly manage. Therefore to avoid any heartache or masses of traffic I left sunny Basildon at 5am. Now I know this sounds like overkill, but come on. I found Radlett remarkably easily, but could I find the Prep School? Could I heck. I drove up and down Watling Street (for 'tis where the school is) in the pitch dark and could not find even a hint of the school. I even stopped and asked a very early morning commuter in Radlett High Street if he knew where it was and he claimed to have never heard of it. Finally after driving nearly all the way into Elstree and heading back, I saw a tiny sign for a "school ahead". I slowed down and turned into an unmarked side road to be presented by a fairly non-descript set of gates, but with the magical words "Radlett Prep School" emblazoned upon them. They were locked, it was 6.30am, but I had found them! I parked up in a nearby lay by, turned on the Chris Evans Show and snoozed for a little while.

The school itself was lovely - a fine old Georgian building with various lumps and bumps added over the years, all built on a site which is even mentioned in the Domesday Book. I was warmly welcomed by teachers and staff alike, including the remarkable head teacher, a lovely friendly avuncular man who has worked at Radlett Prep for the previous 41 years! It was a group of about 50-60 children, all in brilliant costumes and full of laughter and sparkiness. They seemed to really enjoy the day and thankfully laughed in all the right places.

There were two very remarkable things about this school - one was the toilet I was allowed to get changed in. It was a small old fashioned looking room, but had recently had a technological re-fit and was now kitted out with state of the art hi-tech bog stuff. (Let me know if any of this techno babble is losing you). The toilet was automatic, the taps were automatic and even the hand dryer was automatic. With the toilet you either waved your hand (or any other appendage you felt like waving around) in front of a sensor and it would flush automatically, or if you finished with the WC, moving towards the sink to wash you hands would also cause it to flush automatically. This particular sensor was obviously very sensitive as it would go off at the drop of a hat. Change your shirt - FLUSH! Put socks on - FLUSH! Clench buttock cheeks a bit too quickly - FLUSH! You get the idea. Every so often you'd go a bit too close to the hand dryer and suddenly WHOOSH! This would kick in like a small jet engine cranking up for lift off. In between flushing and whooshing I would get changed and would come out of the small room with people staring at me wondering what the hell I had been doing in there. The other truly remarkable thing at this school was a year 4 teacher from the Ukraine. If she had been my teacher at school I'd still be there, purposefully flunking exams. "You're being held back for another year, Farley!" "Really? Woo-hoo!" She wasn't just smouldering, she was "burning down the house".

Lunch was a surprise. The surprise being that they didn't do any! I had to drive back to Radlett and find a shop to get some sandwiches. After another fine chat with the head teacher I set up for the afternoon session. Everything went swimmingly and the jousting tournament was a belter. This time the ladies stormed to a very worthy victory. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 20 - 23 LADIES

Last night I sat and watched the England v Ghana international from Wembley. James decided to watch the match with me and lasted all of about 5 minutes before the lure of his Nintendo DS took over! I cuddled up with him in bed last night which was lovely - he is such a cuddly little boy!

Today I am driving up to Derbyshire and staying near Ashbourne, before tomorrow heading to the little village of Parwich for an appearance at their school. Should be fun!

Drayton Junior

2011-03-24T08:40:00.003Z

Angela Lamb (right) yesterday, just before popping home for lunch (a boiled egg, two slices of toasted bread, a cup of coffee and a waggon wheel).

Ah! Sunshine! Spring time! Sap be a rising, ooh-arr! etc. You catch my drift. Early morning starts are much more fun when there is some daylight involved, as witnessed yesterday. I was back at Drayton School in north Norwich, so I had driven to Essex to stay with Amanda and James on the Tuesday. Even being this much closer to Norwich, it is still a two hour drive from sunny Basildon to sunny Drayton, so I was up at 5am and out of the door by 5.30am. Early mornings are also made more human now by being a completely "Sarah Kennedy Free Zone". Bliss! Vanessa Feltz may never be my first choice as a radio presenter, but in comparison to Sharah (sic - or is that hic?) Kennedy she is like Vaughan Williams' "Lark Ascending" compared to the "Crazy Frog" ring tone. i.e. only one of them makes you want to rip the radio out of it's housing and spray it with bullets from an Uzi before setting fire to it.

This was my fifth, or even possibly sixth return visit to Drayton School, and it is truly one of my favourites in Norfolk. I was warmly greeted by all the staff as usual, and particularly Angela Lamb who is a dead ringers for Julianne Moore (hence the picture above!). It was a group of about 80 children today and we were in the main hall with it's migraine inducing floor design. They were a lovely group, great costumes, very eager to learn and only one or two slightly lippy ones which is always a good thing. The morning went through at a fair old pace, with only a break for an assembly to slow us up. Lunch was an unappetising looking burger with saute potatoes, which goes to prove how wrong you can be as it was delicious. Mrs Lamb took the more intelligent option and went home for lunch.

The afternoon was a good one and culminated in what was originally a quiet joust that soon turned into a deafening joust. And just to prove me wrong, the gentlemen won AGAIN! They are now virtually equal footing with the ladies. This is much closer than last year. Our score now stands at:

GENTLEMEN 20 - 22 LADIES

They will now lock horns again on Tuesday at Radlett Prep School in Hertfordshire. After the show it was back to Basildon for cuddles with my son and a few games with him on Club Penguin on line (don't ask). And look outside - it's sunny again! And in Basildon! Surely there is a law against that sort of thing.

Christ Church School, Downend

2011-03-22T09:59:00.003Z

Good King Hal (left) after discovering the price of a single tyre for his Mazda 323F.

Isn't it nice that the weather is finally warming up? Spring seems to have been a long time coming this year. How nice it was to wake up both Saturday and Sunday morning this weekend and to be greeted by bright sunshine and warmth. Perhaps I should put a roof on the flat (that was a joke BTW). On the Sunday morning I decided to use this wonderful early spring sunshine and to head over to Barrington Court for a walk around the gardens, not as Henry, but just as me. Simply to stretch the legs and get some fresh air in my lungs. That was the plan, anyway...

The day after the Cornish trip last week I had noticed that one of the rear tyres on the Mazda was a bit squishy, so I drove to a local garage and pumped it up. I drove over to Barrington on the Sunday afternoon for my walk, only on getting out of the car did I discover that the same tyre was now very flat again. Bum. I decided to utilise Barrington Court's resources and sat in Matthew Applegate's office flicking through the local Yellow Pages to see where the nearest tyre fitting station was. Everything local was closed as it was Sunday, the nearest places being either Taunton or Yeovil. I pumped the tyre up a little and headed for Yeovil. I arrived at Kwik Fit in South Street to be greeted by a man in oil soaked overalls who looked like the off-spring of an unfortunate encounter between the Stay Puff Marshmallow man from Ghostbusters, and a skinhead. He was on the phone, saw me walk into the reception area, and just walked off - no acknowledgment - nothing. His little assistant who was working for another customer looked about 12 and wore a Benny from Crossroads hat. The Stay Puff Marshmallow man continued to stalk around the garage bellowing into his phone while the little lad progressed and finally finished with the other customer. All joking aside the little lad was brilliant and got the tyre done in double quick time. I went for the cheapest option on the tyres, and even that was nearly £70. I finally paid and left, while the Stay Puff bloke continued to bark into his phone - I wonder if he does any work there at all..?

Monday morning saw me up bright and early again for a drive up to Downend in North Bristol and a first ever visit to Christ Church School. Downend is the birthplace of W G Grace (hence the piccie above) and is a fairly pleasant suburb. The school was brilliant - great teachers, lovely kids and a pleasant day all round. They had even organised a wonderful Tudor banquet at lunchtime with pottage, pease pudding, a chicken stew and all finished off with a delicious plum pudding. I could get used to this. The afternoon was a riot - much excitement from all the children and ended with a brilliant jousting tournament. The Gents champions had only won their semi final as they had been slightly less pathetic than their opponents, but come the final they had really pulled their socks up, and despite being behind for a long while, they stormed through to a very well deserved victory. This makes the score now:

GENTLEMEN 19 - 22 LADIES

Much more interesting and close - unlike the Rugby this weekend...

Today I am driving up to Essex and tomorrow I am back at Drayton School near Norwich in Norfolk, then next week I have visits to Radlett School in Hertfordshire and then up to Parwich in Derbyshire - I will be away from home for about 10 days.

I must dash, Jeremy Kyle is currently berating a monosyllabic 16-year-old girl who insists she is mature enough to start a family with her equally cranially challenged 17-year-old boyfriend. There goes the neighbourhood. Next stop, ESSEX!

Truro Prep, Cornwall

2011-03-17T08:17:00.004Z

Good King Hal (right) appearing in black and white, something to do with either (a) shortages, or more likely (b) he was alive in the 16th Century and colour photos took a long time to come back from the chemists.

My brain is obviously turning to mush these days. Following on from getting myself double booked the other week, I received a message on Tuesday evening from my friend Minti down in Cornwall asking me what time I was going to be turning up to stay with her, her other half Gary, and their lovely kids. I had completely forgotten our telephone conversation from a few weeks previously when Minti had graciously offered me a room for the night so that I would be close to Truro Prep for the morning start. More abject apologies from me, but thankfully Minti just thought it was hilarious.

I left from Somerset relatively early on the Wednesday morning, but it was a very pleasurable drive. The weather was kind, the roads mostly empty and the scenery as I drove down into Cornwall became quite rugged and interesting. It was nice to see the A30 over Bodmin Moor empty, rather than how I remember it during summer holidays - a long thin, winding car park, with over heated engines, families and tempers. I stopped in the early morning sunlight near Jamaica Inn and bought myself some breakfast, which was most welcome. You approach Truro Prep school via a tiny back lane near Truro golf club, and then in through a small winding back driveway. The previous two visits to this lovely school had been at the height of summer, and lunch had consisted of a slap up hog roast served out on the cricket pitch. It was warm and sunny today, but certainly not warm enough for the delights of an outdoor hog roast. As ever I was warmly welcomed by the lovely staff of this delightful school, and everyone, and I mean EVERYONE had dressed up in Tudor costumes. The morning was to be a different from my normal Henry days - I would give my opening "Six Wives" talk four times over to each different year group that was studying it. So I kicked off just after 9am, shortly after being serenaded by the school orchestra through a strangulated version of "Greensleeves", and then a rumbustious singing of "The Tudors Had Arrived" song by some miserable person with the initials T.D. who should not be approached by small children or Henry VIII impersonators.

My opening talk was to the year 5 group who were quiet to begin with, but really picked up as the talk progressed. Next I was with the year 3 group, who simply sat in stunned silence throughout the talk with a vague look of terror on their faces. We had a break for about 2o minutes, where a cup of tea was most welcome. Then it was back for year 6 who really got it and thoroughly enjoyed the show. I finished the morning with year 4, who were a smaller group and a little quieter than the year 6's. Lunch was in the main dining hall and was a sumptuous Tudor affair consisting of roasted pheasant, beef or chicken, slow roasted vegetables and roast potatoes (OK admittedly the pheasant and the potatoes would not have been on Henry's menu) which was absolutely stunning. The pheasant in particular was delicious - moist tasty and a delight. There was some pottage and bread as a starter, but just in case it tasted like real Tudor pottage I gave that a wide berth. The pudding was a sort of cheesecakey/milk puddingy filling, with lots of cinnamon and raisins, in a pastry case. It was interesting, much in the same way I am sure industrial floor polish is interesting.

After lunch I had to judge the children's costumes in a parade of the whole school - not an easy job. Then after that we had a long superb jousting tournament in the big sports hall. It was a fabulous tournament over many races but was eventually won by a very capable ladies team, that now brings our score to:

GENTLEMEN 18 - 22 LADIES

I was supposed to go an meet an old friend, Annalise who I used to work with at Rochester Cathedral in Kent, as she now lives and works down near Truro. Sadly, I didn't get away from the school till after 4pm and I was due out for dinner with friends near Langport that evening by 7pm, so I knew I would be cutting it fine. Therefore I had to blow poor old Annalise out, and promise to visit her another time soon.

I got back to Somerset and almost immediately had to go out and meet my friends at the Halfway House Inn at Pitney near Langport. We had a fabulous meal and lots of laughs. So all in all, a really nice day! My next Henry show is on Monday at Downend in Bristol, the birthplace of WG Grace. How thrilled you must all be to know that!

Mereside School, Shrewsbury

2011-03-15T16:50:00.003Z

Good King Hal and Anne of Cleeves having a quick nose round their new under stairs cupboard.

Now I was originally due to go to Mereside School in Shrewsbury in Shropshire on the 7th January, but the school had phoned and requested the date be put back. Originally this was to the 4th March, but back then I was suffering with a terrible chest infection and cough that made me explode every so often with eye watering volcanic eructations of the stridulating, gear crunching kind. Not a pretty site and not something to show off to impressionable children in Shrewsbury. Therefore the show was postponed again and this time back to Monday 14th March.

Shrewsbury is a long way from South Somerset, so I decided to drive up on the Sunday and stay overnight at a hotel so that I would be nice a fresh for the Monday morning. I booked myself into this wonderful little place called a "Travelodge" - you might have heard of them, quaint roadside lodges with lots of personal character, and.... no... I can't go on. I cannot tell a lie. They are the hotel version of the Roman Empire - doesn't matter where you go, they are all exactly the same. I booked in and sat in my room flicking through the TV channels - all the stuff you could imagine, plus for some reason a Russian news channel - in English. Bizarre. I had been assured by the Travelodge website that there was a Little Chef AND a Burger King adjacent to the hotel, so even if I wasn't going to be eating haute cuisine I would at least not have to stagger too far for a plate of heart attack and chips. WRONG! Both the fast food outlets were closed for refurbishment, so my Sunday evening meal consisted of cold sandwiches bought from a local petrol station. I had driven to where the school was early in the evening on Sunday so I knew where it would be for Monday morning. It was only about five minutes up the road, so that was good news to me.

I got up on the Monday and drove down to the school. I was very warmly welcomed by the staff and teachers, and soon found myself with the children in the hall. It was a nice big group of about 90 children. To begin with they were quite quiet, but they soon warmed up and as the day progressed the laughs got louder. Lunch was a full proper plate of sausage and chips - who needed Little Chef anyway!

The afternoon joust was hilarious, loud and nearly blew the roof off the hall! It culminated in a narrow victory for a very good Gents team. This now brings our score to:

GENTLEMEN 18 - 21 LADIES

All the staff were delightful and took part in a final joust with great enthusiasm! Bless 'em all! The drive back was relatively easy despite a bit of a snarl up round Birmingham, but I guess that is just par for the course.

The last time I had been to Shropshire for anytime was back in 2002 for a holiday with my wife. We stayed in a lovely little village near Ludlow called Downton on the Rock. Amanda was pregnant with James and upon arriving at our self catering cottage she had decided she needed a lie down and a rest. Being on my own, I had soon exhausted the entertainment possibilities of the cottage - I had turned the heating on and off, opened the fridge door to see how quickly the light came on, and had taken to dancing to Test Match Special on Radio 4 Long Wave. In a fit of boredom I decided to shave my beard off. I first grew my beard at the age of 21 and by 2002 I was 35, therefore I had not seen my face completely bald for 14 years. I was worried I had possibly turned into a potato. I nearly shaved it all off, but chickened out at the end and left myself with a small goatee. I woke Amanda up shortly afterwards with a cup of tea. She didn't notice the beard, in fact she didn't notice the beard for another two days, until I pointed it out to her while having lunch out somewhere. Bless.

My next Henry show is tomorrow, Wednesday the 16th March at Truro Prep in Cornwall, a lovely school I last visited back in 2008. Should be a fun day! Shame I forgot I had promised to drive down the night before and visit my friend Minti where she lives near Rough Tor in Cornwall. Whoops. I shall make it up to her and Gary sometime soon, honestly!

St Michael's followed by St Michael's...

2011-03-10T20:28:00.004Z

Good King Hal (left), halfway through a terrifying transformation into a werewolf, playing a growl kornholt solo of "It Must Be Jelly Cos Jam Don't Shake Like That". Oh, the humanity...

After the trials and tribulations of the Bedford day and the joy of my on line banking experience, it was nice to be back to being Henry VIII again. On the Wednesday it was back to one of my longest running schools, St Michael's Junior in Wimborne in Dorset. The lady I usually see at Wimborne is called Jane Eyre, but she is off doing a year overseas with the VSO in Gambia. That or she's doing 12 months in Parkhurst.

Despite her absence there were plenty of familiar and friendly faces on my arrival. As usual on going back to schools I visit frequently there is the cry of "Is it a year already?" from all and sundry, which I think they mean in a nice way! It was a larger group than in previous visits - 140 children this time, and they were a good fun, sparky group. They laughed a lot and joined in well, and pretty much all of them were dolled up in fabulous Tudor costumes. Some of the homemade ones were of a very high standard. I spent a very pleasant lunch break with two of the younger members of the female staff (always a good thing), teaching them how to tell jokes. Neither of them had much of a clue, but then I suppose when you're that pretty and young, who needs humour? That's why I am sitting here alone, in an apartment in South Somerset dressed as a clown with a revolving bow tie on.

The afternoon session was as loud and raucous as it can be and culminated in a stunning jousting tournament won by a very good ladies team. This made the score after the Wimborne show:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 20 LADIES

The drive home was quite pleasant, not too much traffic and along that road from Wimborne to Dorchester with lovely views and scenery all around. I got home, made some dinner, turned on the TV to see Spurs about to take on AC Milan, and promptly fell asleep. Then Spurs always have that effect on me. (DAMN YOU, RICKY VILLA!!!)

And isn't it funny. You wait all year to do a show at a school called St Michael's, then two turn up at once! I had last visited St Michael's in Twerton near Bath back in May 2010, and as I usually see them at about that time of year it seemed odd turning up at this school on a cold breezy morning. Where was all the warm early summer sun?? Again it was good to see some old familiar faces, plus some new ones. This was a group of about 90 children, very excitable and sometimes a bit of a handful, but I kept them happy for most of the day. On the Tudor quiz which I do in the morning, one little lad managed to score 1 out of 20, which is far and away the lowest score anyone has ever got, but I didn't tell him that. Bless him! Lunch was a cannon ball sized baked potato swamped with baked beans and cheese, with a nice crisp salad on the side. Smashing.

The afternoon was riotous, but fun! Some of the kids laughed so much at the stocks routine I honest thought some of them might have little accidents, but the floor remained resolutely dry. The jousting was again of a very high standard and the final finished in a thrilling dead heat between the gents and the ladies. It went to a one quoit race off to find the winner which the ladies just about squeaked home in. The gents score is starting to drift again! The score is now:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 21 LADIES

Good stuff. The drive home was marred only by having to endure Victoria Coren on the Steve Wright Show on Radio 2. Why does he never have Giles London on his show? He'd be great! If you've never had the chance to enjoy him, please check out the occasional blog of the capital's smoothest, smartest, most nepotism-riddled restaurant reviewer - Giles London at http://gileslondon.blogspot.com/ as you will find he is nothing like Giles Coren in The Times at all. Honest.

My next Henry appearance is at Mereside Junior in Shrewsbury on Monday. This was the show postponed a couple of weeks back when my chest was really bad. It may be tempting fate, but I feel better now! COUGH SPLUTTER! DOH!

Head for The Hills!

2011-03-08T20:07:00.006Z

The final remains of Good King Hal (left) after the events of Monday the 7th March 2011.

There are some days that you look back on, when they are over, and you honestly think to yourself - what the hell did I get out of bed for in the first place this morning? Now I didn't entirely think that last night before I slumped into the land of nod, but I was close. It all began with getting up early in the morning.

Now according to my work calendar, Monday 7th March I was due at The Hills Lower School in Bedford. This entailed setting the alarm for the morning at 4am, for a 4.30am departure for the three and a little bit hours drive to Bedford from South Somerset. I deliberately put my alarm clock the other side of the room when I have to get up that early - it entails me actually having to get out of bed to turn it off, not just throw an arm at it and potentially fall asleep again. However I am always very aware of having to get up early, and frequently on nights like this my brain keeps whirring away while I try and get to sleep. It says "You might oversleep! What will you do then?" or "You're still not asleep and it must be nearly 4am by now! You'll fall asleep at the wheel and kill yourself!" However, with clever use of a Charlie Brooker book and some "Night Nurse" for my still gently burbling chest, I did eventually fall asleep. And I got up in time as well! I was very proud of my morning ablutions and was up and out of the flat by 4.30am. The roads at that time of day are an absolute delight of course, no one around at all, and I sailed serenely up the A303 towards the A34. (Well, as serenely as you can in a Mazda 323F).

The last couple of times I have visited Bedford it has been a nightmare to get into. Roadworks upon roadworks, tons of non-moving traffic and a rapidly ticking clock. But this time, it was a doddle - and I soon found myself past Milton Keynes and Buckingham, and virtually on the door step of the school. Apart from some poor sap in a Vauxhall Astra having his engine blow up as I drove behind him, it was a pretty much hassle free arrival at the school. The surroundings looked remarkably familiar. As I turned into the gate of the school it said "Welcome to Hazeldene Lower School". Huh? Hazeldene was a school I used to visit as Henry, but I hadn't been here since 2007 - why had my sat nav brought me here? Because, believe it or not, The Hills Lower School is on the same site. They use the same gate! Two completely separate Lower Schools with their front doors approximately 10 yards apart. Madness. I sat in the car having a quick swig of my drink before I went in, and watched with interest as another car parked over by the Hazeldene entrance. A young female teacher got out, and unaware she was being eyed by a dirty old Tudor monarch, paused to adjust her stocking tops. Well, that made my morning, I can tell you! I don't know who you are madam, but you did me the power of good.

As I got into the school I met the teacher I was dealing with - a very nice lady who had bombarded me with emails and questions over the previous couple of weeks. Still, it was nice to be here. I was warned by several members of staff that the group I would be with today, a year three group of two classes, were challenging and excitable to say the least. Who was I to argue with them? So I got all my stuff in the hall, got changed, and then ended up sitting on my "April" in the staff room for an hour as the kids had a singing lesson. Finally I got in the hall with the kids. They were very excitable and at times, quite a handful. One lad with some obvious learning difficulties was like a Jack in the Box of energy, with almost Tourette's Syndrome scatter gun approach to shouting out at me whenever he felt like it. It was only a brief morning, but it seemed quite long.

During lunch I chatted to a very nice lady who looks after all the gardens where the kids grow their own fruit and veg. I suddenly noticed I had a whole ream of missed calls on my mobile phone. It was messages from a school in Hertfordshire wondering where I was as I was supposed to be with them on the 7th March. Huh?? One of the teachers allowed me to sign onto a PC to check my emails to see what was going on and, uh-oh, they were right. I had well and truly double-booked myself. I had told both The Hills and this other school that I would be with them on the 7th March. The only thing I think that could have happened was that both schools had hassled me for information on dates a lot and all the time I was at Leeds Castle away from my office. As excuses go it is pretty lame, but it was the best I could do. I mailed the teacher in Hertfordshire with abject apologies filled with sackcloth and ashes, and promised to sort something out for them.

The afternoon was equally loud and hard work. Not sure I have shouted quite so much to such a small group for a long time. But they seemed to enjoy most of it and the jousting was very loud and raucous, and ended with another win for the gents! This brings our score up to:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 19 LADIES

Much more interesting. I unloaded all my gear back to the car, and then found the gates were locked. I went back into the school and found the caretaker. He assured me they weren't locked it was just made to look that way. I walked back to the car. The gates WERE locked. I walked back and got the caretaker who trudged out to unlock them with all the enthusiasm and gusto of a sloth on mogadons. I went through the gates only to find that there was now also an OUTER set of gates. This was purgatory! Luckily they weren't properly locked so I got out and headed off for a three hour drive.

The drive home was OK, apart from one little snarl up near Stonehenge. I got back, exhausted, finished and very low after such a hard show. I decided to cheer myself up to see if my pay had gone into my bank account. It hadn't. I checked up on why not and found out the standing order for it from my business account had been entered with the wrong month - my rent was due today and I didn't have enough in my account to cover it. ARGH! I phoned the bank and got onto their automated system. First they wanted my account number keyed in - done. Now the sort code keyed in - done. Now the second numeral from my personal security number. My what? What personal security number? The condescending electric voice just kept repeating it, like the boring teacher in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." I thought, I know I shall go in on another number and talk to a real person. I tried to but ended up at the same information superhighway cul de sac. In the end, very frustrated and eager to sort this out I tried to postpone my rent payment on line by one day - I was told I was too late in the day. ARGH!!! I know, inventive GKH thought, I shall phone the bank's new customer line, that way I am guaranteed to talk to a real person and they won't need this mysterious Personal Security Number crap. I keyed in the number - only to be told that the line was only open between 8am and 8pm. And the time at that very instant??? 8.01pm. AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH! Cue complete "mental mental chicken oriental" moment with the King. The phone gets ripped from the wall and is thrown on the floor and bludgeoned to death with it's own hand piece. Not a pretty site.

Today I went out and bought a new phone and discovered that my pay had gone through as an emergency payment thanks to my lovely company "Past Presence Ltd". The school in Hertfordshire now think I am the dot over the letter I in the word SH*T and I am currently watching Barcelona players doing passable impressions of dying swans every time an Arsenal player breathes next to them. If anyone ever builds a time machine I shall borrow it for one journey only. I shall go back to the evening of the 6th March 2011, and I will turn off my alarm clock.

Tomorrow, the 9th, I am back at one of my all time favourite schools, the very wonderful St Michael's School near Wimborne in Dorset. Should be fun.

Hazlegrove and Heaving Chests (Ooh-er!)

2011-03-04T18:51:00.004Z

Good King Hal starring in the latest blockbuster "Babe 3 - Pig in a White Wine Sauce, with shallots, aubergines and potato rosti, all served with a nice chilled Chablis". Certificate 18.

My son has a certain temper with inanimate objects, when they won't do what he wants them to do. Sadly, I can hide this no longer - he gets this from me. And with me it isn't even inanimate objects. If anything isn't doing what I want it to do, it is in danger of being smashed to pieces or thrown across the room. I am usually this same intolerant idiot when it comes to being ill. Now I have just finished my week long run at Leeds Castle and it is usually when I am there that I fall ill with a bad chest - but I have waited until the week after to get all yukky. Now, whenever I lie down my chest goes bubble-bubble-wheeze and I begin coughing and sometimes can't stop for several eye-watering minutes. This is where my temper with inanimate objects goes to a new level, as I get so angry with my lungs for not working properly I just want to rip them out, squeeze them dry, run them through a mangle and then stuff them back in again. As I can't actually do this for real (please, children at home - DON'T try this) it means I have been having terrible trouble sleeping of late. So the night before I was due to drive to Hazlegrove School near Sparkford in Somerset I gave up on my bed after a couple of wheezing coughing filled hours and headed instead for the warm comforts of my almost world famous "Coma Chair" (C) Mike Farley 2010. Now I knew not to sleep with my feet on the floor as this could bring on such horrors as deep vein thrombosis, scurvy and Mongolian Luirghi Fever of the Fallen Arches (or something like that). So I dutifully stuck my legs up on a stool, stuck on the latest recorded edition of Neil Oliver's "History of Ancient Britain" and as predicted I promptly fell fast asleep.

I woke up at some damnably early hour and found that my feet had at some point in the night fallen off the stool. I was now blessed with ankles that felt remarkably like over ripe cantaloupe melons. I still felt ill and my chest burbled away merrily as I drove up the A303 to Sparkford, pausing only to cough alarmingly and wipe my watering eyes. Hazlegrove School is in a remarkable old house that apparently, I was informed later, was once slept in by Catherine of Aragon... or was it Katherine Parr? Well it was one of them. Mind you, the amount of places I have been in my time as Henry VIII and been told that one of the six wives once slept there, or that Mary I slept there, or Queen Elizabeth had eaten a Ginsters pasty there etc. The other one I get all the time is mostly American women coming up to me at events and telling me they're related to Anne Boleyn. Well so am I - we're both mammals for Christ's sake. Anyway, I am getting off the subject.

Hazlegrove School was lovely, the teachers were unbelievably friendly and helpful and very sympathetic to my burbling chest and frequent Krakatoa cough explosions. The kids were great and called the usual private school names like Hector or Ned, or Jensen or Barry (not really). The lunch was lovely, a very tasty roast pork with veg and roast potatoes. The afternoon session went very well and finished with two of the finest jousting teams you will ever see, but ended with the Gentlemen's team just sneaking a narrow victory over a very good ladies team. This makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 16 - 19 LADIES

I felt totally wasted after the show. Just exhausted and burnt out. All I could think of was that I was due to get up at 4am the next morning and drive three hours up to Shrewsbury for a visit to Mereside School. To be honest I just couldn't face the idea. I needed rest and lots of it. When I got home I called Mereside and they were lovely - they said it was fine and the show has now been postponed back to the 14th March. Phew. This meant I could have a lie in this morning and get better, and you know what? I feel much better for it. Therefore the next Henry day is now on Monday at The Hills School in Bedford.

Henry's Horrid History - an overview

2011-02-28T08:32:00.005Z

A brief reminder of Good King Hal's previous performances of "Henry's Horrid History" at Leeds Castle three years ago. You can be assured he did not have a fireplace like that in his marquee this time around.

Leeds Castle, near Maidstone in Kent. Three shows a day. Nine days straight off. A total of twenty seven shows. But it wasn't, actually. It was only twenty six. This was because the very first show we did on Saturday the 19th February no one turned up for, which could possibly have given you the idea that this was some sort of portent of doom. How wrong we were! As the week progressed more and more people attended the shows - on sunny days (and we had a couple of those) we were reluctantly having to turn some people away. This prompted Leeds Castle's management to add an extension on the side of the grand marquee I was in to get more bums on seats. On our best day we had just short of 600 punters in for the three shows which was wonderful.

Once more I stayed with my sister at her house in Stockbury near Sittingbourne, and I was right royally pampered the whole time I was there. Cath and her husband Julian were perfect hosts, and it was great to see their lovely friendly dog Charlie again. They have a new addition to the household with another rescue dog living with them - she is a tiny Lurcher called Oona. She is very affectionate, but blotted her copybook slightly by peeing all over my bed on the last night I was staying there. Well, Cathy SAYS it was the dog... Perhaps she was trying to tell me I had out stayed my welcome!

My set up at the Castle was impressive. They had erected a large square marquee next to the maze up near the aviary. Dallas, the genius who builds so many of Leeds Castle's temporary, but brilliant props and sets, had constructed me a partitioned off "dressing room" in one corner of the marquee, and had brilliantly disguised my big Father Christmas chair from the grotto and turned it into a throne for the King. I was to do three shows a day - one at 11am, one at 1pm and one at 2.30pm. We quickly had to change the 1pm show to a 12.30pm start as my talk clashed with the bird flying display outside by World of Wings and I was getting drowned out by their PA system and mood music. As crowd sizes increased as the week went along, my voice was coming under more strain, so I was issued with a throat mic and amplifier for the rest of the week - which was great and saved me from sounding like Barry White by the end of the run.

Lots of friends came to see the shows. Adam and Lisa Hudson with their kids came on the first Saturday, my old friend Bonnie came down from Lincolnshire with her family on the Wednesday, a couple of the teachers from White Woman Lane School in Norwich came on the Thursday, and on Saturday the 26th February (my 44th birthday!) I had loads of visitors! My sister Cath and her husband Julian came, along with my sister Sue all the way from Wales! There was my old friends Anne and Ben Lyle and their lovely daughters Nell and Tilly, Michelle Coda and her chap Matt, plus cute daughter little Victoria, my lovely friend Ali Bessell and her sister Laura, her husband Steve and Ali and Laura's Mother! After I finished the last show on the Saturday I was going to announce to the crowd it was my birthday and maybe try and get them singing "Happy Birthday" - but I was out manoeuvred as Darlene Cavill, the wonderful events organiser at Leeds, had pre-empted me and led a large phalanx of staff from the Castle up the central aisle of the marquee brandishing champagne, a birthday cake and a massive card. For once I was mostly lost for words, until I said "bloody hell" quite loudly into my throat mic, which got one of the biggest laughs of the day. As usual everyone at the castle was so friendly and helpful - Becky Lander, Jeanne Beaton, the Cheeseman's, Adam, and just everyone who helped - I could not have done it without you.

So mostly it was good fun - there was one lady out of the hundreds who came to visit the show who complained to Darlene that my show was "unsuitable" for primary school children as I hadn't used any audio visual displays. Ah, so that is where I have been going wrong for the previous 700 shows I have done throughout the country. Also, on the morning of my birthday as I drove into Bearsted to buy some lunch for later on I was nearly challenged to a fight by a very aggressive lady. I was trying to turn into the small Tesco garage as she was trying to get out - but she was being partially blocked in by a very impatient man in a 4x4 with a trailer on the back. He had got so close to her she could hardly go forward or back. I gestured for him to move back, but he ignored me and I gestured for her to come out, but she made it clear she couldn't. Time was flying, so I drove away to the other smaller petrol station on the other side of the road. As I was walking towards the front door I heard a shout behind me.

"OI!" I turned round. It was the woman from the stuck car at the Tesco's forecourt. "Were you having a f***ing pop at me back there!?" She shrieked, stalking towards me with a deranged look in her eye. I decided to placate the mad cow.

"No, I was getting hacked off with the idiot in the 4x4 with the trailer behind you..." I began. She almost immediately nearly burst into tears.

"Oh, sorry!" She shrieked. "I've had such a stressed out morning... and then I got stuck in the front of Tesco's, and then..." She'd obviously had a bad morning. I was sorely tempted to lean out of the window as I drove off and shout "I REALLY WAS HAVING A POP AT YOU, YOU MAD DERANGED COW! HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!", but my gentlemanly side got the better of me.

Finally, to the lady who obviously reads this blog religiously - I got back to Stockbury for a cup of tea, then I drove up to Basildon for a cuddle or two with my son, and I am driving back to Crewkerne tomorrow. Glad you and your pink-haired friend enjoyed the final show - nice to see you!

Henry's Horrid History Part 1, plus lots of other things...

2011-02-19T22:06:00.002Z

Lots of things have occurred since I last updated this blog, and though I am tired and aching for bed, I cannot let this opportunity go to get things "back on track" so to speak.

Last weekend I was in Wales spending a few precious restful days with my parents out in Newcastle Emlyn. We had a nice, brief couple of days, but managed to fit in a trip to the wonderful Harrison's Cafe in town and a trip to see my old friend Carole Evans (nee Davey) at her lovely pub/restaurant The Daffodil. I drove back to Somerset on the Monday. By Tuesday I was back up the A303 and M3 route back to Essex. I was to stay with my wife and son for a couple of days while I did a couple of shows in the south east. But not before a brief early morning appearance on Emma Britton's show on BBC Somerset. It was good fun to be back in the studio with her and we had a lively if predictable debate about dog mess... (Enough said really). From Taunton I headed straight up to Essex.

On the Wednesday it was a 5th return visit for me to Wickford Junior School in South Essex. This is a fabulous school, full of bright sparky children and some very cool teachers indeed! We had a fabulous day marred only by the grotty weather. A simply deafening jousting tournament finished the day off a treat with the inevitable victory for an excellent ladies team. This brings the score at the end of this day to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 19 LADIES

My son James went to his karate class on Wednesday evening and, despite this only being his third visit, he came away with his first badge for his kit. Amanda and I were so proud of him, and he was rather pleased with himself! I drove down to Kent on the Wednesday evening to stay with my sister Cathy near Sittingbourne.

Thursday I was back down to the Isle of Sheppey and Queenborough School. I had last visited here back in 2008, but it was so nice to be back. The staff and children at this school could literally not do enough for me. They were all so kind and helpful, and we had a really fun day all together as well, which makes life a bit easier! The final of the jousting in the afternoon was, as predicted, deafeningly loud and boisterous and resulted in the narrowest of victories for a very good gents team. Which finally brings us to half term and the score standing at:

GENTLEMEN 15 - 19 LADIES

All still to play for.

On the Friday I had a meeting over lunch at Leeds Castle with Darlene Cavill and her assistant Becky Lander with everything set up and ready for the off on the Saturday for Henry's Horrid History Show. Saturday morning dawned grey and miserable - the rain poured and the wind howled. My venue this time around is a very nice posh marquee erected near the maze and the Wykeham Martin Centre (if you know Leeds Castle!). It is heated, has a stage and seats about 170 people comfortably. My shows are at 11am, 1pm and 2.30pm each day. Today at 11am , there was not a soul to be seen as the rain hammered down and the wind moaned like Robert Smith with his finger caught in his guitar strap. So after an extended and unexpected bonus lunch break the show finally started at 1pm. We had about 50 people in, including my old friends Adam and Lisa Hudson, late of The Hoop Cricket Club with their two fine sons in tow. They seemed to really enjoy the show, especially when I "executed" Lisa in the Anne Boleyn section of the talk! It was great to see them all. The final show of the day only garnered about 25-30 people, but the forecast is a little better for tomorrow, so fingers crossed.

And now, finally, at long last...bed...

Westonzoyland & Ashcott

2011-02-11T21:03:00.004Z

Good King Hal suddenly realising that the 2011 International Parrot Prodding Championships held at Barrington Court were missing one vital ingredient. Parrots. Who's a silly boy, then?

The drive back to Somerset on the Wednesday was quiet and uneventful. A little bit like England's international friendly against Denmark that evening, but at least we played quite well and won. Thursday the 10th found me at Westonzoyland up near Bridgwater. The last time I had visited this school was back in 2007 and I strongly remember sitting in the car outside the school and listening to England being trounced at Cricket on the radio by the Aussies. My how things have changed. (Actually I have just re-read my blog entry for back in 2007 and though England made a bad start we actually stuffed the Aussies in that match. My memory is obviously playing games with me!).

The weather for the visit this time was pretty much the same as my last visit - rain, rain and more rain. But the wonderful friendly school was there the same again! It was a biggish group of children with everyone from year 3 up to year 6. Some of the year 6 children remembered me from my previous visit back in 2007 - one of them it had been her birthday the last time I had been and I had sung "Happy Birthday" to her. She says how clearly she remembers it, but I assured her with the right prescription she could forget this horror. The day was excellent, lots of laughs, lots of Tudor silliness and good to be back with old friends again. After a very pleasant roast dinner lunch it was on with the show culminating in another win for the Gentlemen! This brings us to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 17 LADIES

More and more interesting.

The following day was an almost identical journey in pouring rain up to Ashcott School near to Bridgwater and Glastonbury. Now Ashcott was the very first school in Somerset I ever did way way back in the mists of time - or 2004 as it is now known. I had been here once since then, in 2008 and now here I was back in 2011. Another hugely warm welcome. It was a small group of children today, about 35, but what they lacked for in size they more than made up for in loudness and enthusiasm. The morning was cool - very silly and with some of the children showing remarkable depth of Tudor knowledge. One young lad I had been pre-warned about was hugely into dinosaurs and I was told that at some point he would try and introduce the subject of dinosaurs into the Tudor day - and he did! During our question time session he asked me if the Tudors knew about dinosaurs! Good lad. I grabbed some sandwiches from the local village shop and was then back on for the afternoon session. We had a visit from a photographer from the Western Gazette and then it was more jousting. Back to form this time. The ladies romped to a fine win. This now brings us to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 18 LADIES

I am off to Wales this weekend to see my parents and then back up to Essex next week for a return visit to Wickford Junior, then Queenborough School in Sheppey in Kent, then half term arrives and I begin my run at Leeds Castle.

White Woman Lane School

2011-02-08T21:58:00.003Z

It was just before the swimwear section that some members of the judging panel started to suspect Miss Ukraine was not all she was cracked up to be...

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING BLOG ENTRY CONTAINS A BARELY CONTROLLED, ILL THOUGHT OUT CHILDISH RANT AND SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...

I am surprised that somewhere called White Woman Lane School is allowed to exist anymore. Surely it should now be called "Caucasian (though not exclusively Ethnic majority) Non-Gender Specific Though Definitely NOT Phallo-Centric Lane Educational Collective". Or am I just sounding a bit world weary and cynical? Hardly surprising with all this horrible stuff called "politics" flying around at the moment. I just cannot be bothered with it currently. I seem to be constantly bombarded with messages from well meaning friends these days, either as emails or on Facebook, urging me to support this, or protest against that, or leap out of a 4th floor window dressed as Cardinal Richelieu whilst quoting the complete works of Marcel Proust before you plummet into the pavement below. And quite frankly, what is the point? It is either smug right wingers telling me we've all got to tighten our belts, work harder and save money (except if you're a banker of course) or fire brand left wingers telling me that unless I save a rain forest or hug a Muslim before tea time then I am no better than a child molester. ARGH! Just leave me alone! It doesn't matter what I say, think or do, nothing will ever change! There will always be them and us, and they'll always be in charge and have us by the you know whats.

Right, rant over! It was a fifth (or was it sixth?) return visit to the above mentioned White Woman Lane School. This is a lovely school in the northern suburbs of Norwich and is always a treat to return to. The same familiar and friendly faces greeted me from the teachers and all the children (about 75 of them) had pulled out all the stops and come in a fine selection of brilliant Tudor costumes, a lot of which were home made. The journey up was nice and relatively easy, and the early morning start was more enjoyable than it sometimes used to be as Sarah Kennedy has been replaced by Vanessa Feltz on early morning Radio 2. Now this may sound like the equivalent of announcing that you are delighted that bubonic plague has been replaced with a raging cholera epidemic, but trust me on this - if you are ever up early at some point, Ms Feltz is a massive improvement.

The morning session at the school was a raging success, and things went from strength to strength with a loud and raucous afternoon. It culminated with another great jousting tournament in which a fine ladies team forged into such a huge lead that the gents team just packed up halfway through, knowing they were well beaten! This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 17 LADIES

Wonderful stuff. I am driving back to Somerset tomorrow as Thursday and Friday this week I am at Westonzoyland and Ashcott in that county. Watch this space for their reports - and no more shouty-crackers ranting - promise.

Stapleford Abbotts

2011-02-07T18:21:00.003Z

Stapleford Abbotts School with a big reminder written on the road outside as to whether the Government should shut the place or not.

Back in Essex again, but this time to visit a new school I hadn't done before. The weekend before had been nice and restful and combined such diverse delights as a breakfast at Bilby's in Crewkerne, Manchester City sticking three past West Bromwich Albion and then the even more delightful news that Manchester United had been well and truly stuffed by Wolves. Ah, life is full of such little joys every now and then. Meanwhile, back to Essex. I stayed in Basildon on the Sunday night but was then up relatively early for the short trip over to Stapleford Abbotts, near Romford. Stapleford Abbotts is one of these places I have always been aware of (I was born and brought up less than 10 miles from it) but had for some reason or another, never been to. It is in that sort of no-mans land of not quite rural Essex and not quite desolate disgusting Romford drabness that for some reason is remarkably appealing to Premiership Footballers - a group of people Charlie Brooker so cleverly described as the World's thickest millionaires.

The school in the village was very easy to find and a warm welcome awaited me - and a cup of tea! The hall out the back of this school is brand spanking new and has fabulous acoustics. It was only a half day today and a smallish group of just over 30 children. They were a bit over excited a the start, so I told them some of my best jokes, and that soon quietened them down a bit I can tell you. One lad in particular was hugely knowledgeable and seemed very excited about history in general. He'll probably become a plumber. After a quick break I then had to race through the rest of the morning with embarrassing haste as a posse of dinner ladies (or lunchtime helpers or "ingesting median sojourn operative facilitators" as we probably have to call them these days) swarmed at the other end of the dining hall and cast disparaging looks my way. We still managed to get a really good jousting tournament in which ended with another win for the gentlemen! They are really coming right back into this now. Our year long score now reads:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 16 LADIES

There will be another chance for them to close the gap further tomorrow when I am up at the crack of dawn again to head back for another return visit to White Woman Lane Junior School in Norfollk.

March 25th this year sees the first of what could prove to be a regular Hoop Cricket Club reunion. I used to play for the Hoop between 1991 and 1998, so I am looking forward to getting back there and meeting such a large group of old friends, that is if everyone turns up as they say they will.