And the World Did NOT End!

So 2012, a year when we were supposed to see the world end has come and nearly gone, and as far as I can see I am still here.  It has been a pretty phenomenal year for a lot of people, but also for me and Good King Hal.

My professional year has just come to a close with my final evening in the grotto as Father Christmas at Leeds Castle.  It is a fairly well known fact the sainted Darlene Cavill is leaving her post as Events Manager at the Castle in May after so many years fulfilling the position.  The place just won't be the same without her and after eight years of working as Santa at Leeds, with Darlene's departure it seems right that I should hang up the red bobble hat and hand over the present sack to someone else.  To be honest it will be lovely just to have a normal Christmas without being cocooned within the grotto for three weeks and unable to do "normal" things!  I personally think as in Doctor Who there should be a regeneration scene where I morph into the next person who plays Santa.

Being Henry this year has been great fun with visits to new areas such as Liverpool, Hexham, Barry and other various far flung corners of the British Isles.  Plus I spent most of the summer months gallivanting around a variety of stately homes and castles with the wonderful Knights of Royal England - a truly epoch making experience.  But this sort of travelling will pale into insignificance if the plans for 2014 come to fruition - I have been invited out to Shanghai in China for some Good King Hal appearances.  I can't wait!  I am so excited by the idea and really hope this all works out and becomes a reality.  There are equally exciting plans for 2013 for the business, but I shall reveal my master plan piece by piece and as we reach each milestone.  I like to keep my powder dry!

And my final reason for making 2012 so memorable is that I have met the lovely Shelley, a lady who has brought back the sunshine into my life long after I honestly thought I would never be personally happy again.  For that I cannot thank her enough, but will have to start somewhere, so why not here?  THANK YOU!

So to everyone who has been a part of the madness, fun and historical rantings that has been Good King Hal in 2012, many thanks to you.  Hope you enjoyed yourselves as much as I did.  Here is to 2013 and hoping it is as successful and prosperous for you all.

A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like The End of the World as We Know It

Father Christmas, with his wages in a small red sack to his right, totally failing to pull the wool over the eyes of Sir Owen of Leeds Castle and the Broomfield Exit.  The Elf on the right has just been pushed through a window into this picture.

They do say you live and learn.  They do.  And now after eight years I find myself being Father Christmas AGAIN down at Leeds Castle.  Eight years of donning the red suit and the white beard, all those ho-ho-ho's and all those happy children.  And also all the unhappy ones, the minuscule little toddlers, heads already stuffed full of advice from parents, advice like "don't talk to strangers", or "don't take sweets from strangers", or even "look out for strange characters".  And then they find themselves in a room which looks like it's been decorated by members of the band Parliament and introduced to a rotund strangers in bright red outfit and a massive beard and ordered to tell this figure their deepest desires and also to accept presents from him.  No wonder so many of them scream and hide behind their parents legs.  And don't forget the embarrassed ones.  Kids who have reached an age of maturity where this sort of demeaning childish outing is now the nadir in their development.  How I love to embarrass the hell out of them.  Or the smart arse kids.  The ones who are "precocious" (i.e. spoilt little shits) and say something rude to Santa and get a guffaw of laughter from the parents when really a vicious elbow in the ribs would be more agreeable.  And speaking of parents, what about the pushy/moody/never-bloody-satisfied parents?  The ones who however long you spend with their child it is never enough, they always want more, or one more photo, and all this time there is a legion of other irate parents outside the grotto, desperate to get in and slake the blood lust of Christmas greed in their children.  It sort of makes you and your Elves feel like gaudily dressed defenders of some tinsel-bedecked Rorkes Drift.  Don't get me wrong, I love what I do, but I feel I am reaching the end of the line.  This could be, as they say "it".

If it is to be my Lapland "Swan Song", then it was lovely to go out with a visit from my lovely Shelley and her son Sir Owen.  He arrived in his wheelchair unaware of what exactly I was doing at Leeds Castle, and I hoped with the red suit and white beard and with my glasses taken off he might not recognise me.  Nope, not a chance.  As soon as he was wheeled into my presence he looked at me and went "MIKE!"  Rumbled.  But despite what I said at the start, I have lived and learnt this last week or so.  So here goes!

WHAT I HAVE LEARNT THIS WEEK

1. Don't snore next to a lady with an ear infection
2. Never believe anything you read in a Mayan calendar.  End of the world, my arse.
3. Don't have a tea party with people with the norovirus.
4. Don't live in Tovill.
5. Christmas shopping in any town anywhere in Britain in December is NOT fun.
6. Smile at everyone, even the miserable gits.  It doesn't half annoy them.
7. The man with the shovel and the shit filled wheel barrow is NOT the new events manager at Leeds Castle.

It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year (If you like freezing cold weather)....

Good King Hal, letting everyone know just how cold and wet he is feeling at Blenheim Palace during the Summer, so God knows how cold and wet he is feeling now that it is the middle of winter.

I have a lot of catching up to do.  I sometimes wonder where the time goes.  On checking back on this blog it seems I have FOUR shows to catch up on.  How on Earth did that happen?  What have I been doing?  Surely not a passable Ray Milland impression and having a lost weekend?  No, I can't afford that sort of thing and I am sure poor old Ray would feel the same if he was still with us. 

So let's begin, we have to roll the time back to last week when I had just finished the show at Dunster School.  The following morning I was up and about, but thankfully not too early as I was heading back down to The Maynard School in Exeter and they didn't want me to start until 10.30am, which was fine by me.  I do love to come and visit the Maynard, it is a lovely school and the staff are just a delight to be with, particularly Keagh Fry, the main teacher I deal with, who is simply one of the loveliest people you could ever wish to meet.  It was a bigger group than normal for the Maynard - 18 children this time!  It was a good fun day all round with lots of laughs and some fantastic costumes among the ladies.  The jousting was good too, but as the Maynard is an all-girls school, alas I can't add the result from this show to our overall year long score.

I had a day at leisure on the Wednesday and then on the Thursday it was another return visit to a very nice school - Dean Close Prep in Cheltenham.  The drive into Cheltenham is relatively easy - you go past GCHQ and try not to notice it, just in case you are arrested and water boarded, or some such, and then along Lansdown Road, with many grand old buildings to your right, most of which is Dean Close School.  I always look out for the little hall in the middle where I always do my shows.  Last time I had driven through Cheltenham back in the summer (coming back from a Sudeley show) I had been delighted to see everything at Dean Close was as it had ever looked.  So in the early morning watery light, I drove up Lansdown Road and kept an eye out for my hall.  But it had gone - completely.  All that was left was a massive pile of rubble and a few builders and labourers standing round scratching their arses and drinking tea.  Was it something I said?  I finally met up with Jon Harris who books me at the school and it appeared my drama room was being "re-developed" but it might take a couple of years.  So I was in the main building for a change, and we had a great day, some really nice kids and a fun day all round.  Superb lunch of immaculate roast beef, and then after a stocks session in which I almost made an Australian teacher wet himself (you really don't want to know) it was outside for the final joust.  It was a great final and I was delighted to see a very cocksure lads team come completely unstuck and were trounced by the ladies.  Wonderful.  The score clicks remorselessly round to:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 9 LADIES

After Dean Close and a whistle stop weekend back to see my lovely son James in Essex and my gorgeous Shelley in Kent, I was back down to Somerset and all points west for my final two Henry VIII shows for 2012.

Thursday 6th December found me at Redstart School in Chard for a half day with the year 4's under the auspices of the wonderfully named Lisa Organ.  Redstart is a delightful school and the shows I do here are always fun, even if they are half days.  There was talk after the success of this year of going for a full day next year - so watch this space.  It was a fun, mad, loud, laughter filled morning and culminated in another great joust - so much talent this year.  And this time the ladies stormed through for a memorable and well earned victory.  There seems to be no stopping them now.  Our score goes over to:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 10 LADIES

Another win.  Can the gents ever hope to be in the lead?

My final Henry for the year was at the delightfully named Air Balloon Hill Primary School in Bristol.  The early part of the day was not promising it has to be said.  Freezing cold weather, lots of mucky salty spray off the road, tons of traffic and lots of roadworks it seemed.  It took me far longer to get to the school than I intended and I was then horrified to discover that they didn't have a car park, but that was the last of the unpleasantness.  Air Balloon Hill Primary is a SUPERB school with wonderful kids.  It was a biggish group today, about 90+ children from year 5, but they were brilliant!  Their enthusiasm, willingness to laugh and their already formidable Tudor knowledge made for it to be one of the best days of the year.  Thoroughly enjoyable day all round.  The staff were lovely (I had been recommended to the school by a supply teacher there who had seen me at Twerton some two or three years ago) and responded so well to my show that they have already demanded a return visit for next year, which suits me down to the ground.  The joust was deafening and ended with a long overdue win for the Gents.  They pull the score back to:

GENTLEMEN 8 - 10 LADIES

The drive back to Crewkerne was almost as tortuous as the journey up, so I was glad when I finally got home and put my feet up. 

2012 has been one of my busiest years since I started back in 2004, and 2013 is looking even better still.  So to all the people I have worked with throughout the past 12 months, thank you so much for your help, bookings, enthusiasm and laughter, here is to 2013 being the biggest year ever.  And to all fans of Good King Hal and anything Tudor related, stick on a choral version of "In Dulce Jubilo" and boogie round your peasant sacks, and have a deeply wonderful and merry Christmas and a most lovely, peaceful and happy new year.  I am off to stick on a red suit and white beard and shout "ho ho ho" at various terrified children at Leeds Castle for the next two weeks, before Henry VIII strides back into view on January 9th 2013 with a return visit to Blackbrook School in Taunton.  Until then, no snow, please!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year from Good King Hal and all at Past Presence Ltd.



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

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...

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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)

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!

Never Mind the Blizzards.

Good King Hal reckons this is the way forward at Leeds Castle next Christmas... That and a 4x4, a team of huskies, thermal underwear and a hot elf or two...

I hope you're all sitting comfortably as this is a long story. We start back last year - December 7th to be precise. I was just back from Chard, pleased with the idea that I had a clear day or two before I was due over at Leeds Castle for my first Santa-ing of the season. I got in and was presented with a phone message from St Saviour's School on the Isle of Wight asking if I was still coming tomorrow morning for their banquet. Huh? I had been contacted by someone from a school on the Isle of Wight about possibly visiting them on this date about two months ago, but nothing had been confirmed and I didn't even have the name or address of the school. I took the phone number from the message and called the lady in question. I explained quietly and rationally that I in no way could make it to the Island the following day, apologised and ended the call. The lady seemed OK, if a little upset. About five minutes later she called back, virtually hysterical, telling me all the children were coming in in full costume, there were caterers doing a banquet and was there anyway I could just "pop over" for an hour or so. Call me old Mr Softy if you wish, but I soon found myself phoning Wight Link ferries and booking a ticket for the following day. I drove down, thinking to myself it would be an easy day - turn up, shout a bit, eat a banquet, pose for some photos, then go home. But life is never that easy, is it? I was due to get the 10.55am ferry, but due to being stuck at a level crossing for what seemed like a lifetime I managed to drive into Lymington harbour just in time to see my ferry steaming out into the Solent. Arse. I therefore popped into the ferry office and picked up my tickets to be told I now had a 45 minute wait for the next one. Oh joy.

I got back in my car to see that I had three missed calls on my mobile, all from the same number. I called it, it was the school. A very snotty sounding lady demanded to know where I was as I was supposed to be at the school at 10am. I told her as politely as I could that as far as I was aware I was only due at the school at 11.30am, I had just missed my ferry, and if she spoke to me like that again, I would turn the car round and drive straight home. The next ferry finally arrived, I was soon on my way. The school was only about two miles from the terminal the other end, so I was soon there, but there was nowhere to park. The only space stated it was for "AXIS ONLY". I assumed this was for Taxis who's T had fallen off, and nothing to do with German WWII forces. Daring to stand up to irate cabbies and Hitler's forces, I parked in the spot and was soon inside the school. Everyone was in the main hall, and I mean EVERYONE. Teachers, kids, dinner ladies, the lot. From the smallest to the largest. But there didn't seem to be a table or chair for me. I enquired where I was supposed to go. Apparently all the food had already been served, but there was none left, and I was now expected to do a one hour talk to the kids. Well I started and I tried, I really did. But the room was packed to the rafters with some really very excitable very young children who honestly could not have cared less if I was there or not. I played some music, posed for loads of photos and was then on my way. My main thought on getting home was that was 12 hours of my life I will never get back.

Off to Kent. This was to be my fifth year of being Santa for Leeds Castle and this year, rather than freezing my baubles off out in the old tennis pavilion turned into a grotto, I was instead in the much warmer and central Dog Collar Museum - which had been cunningly disguised as a grotto. I have often wondered about the Dog Collar Museum - who actually thought of it in the first place? Did someone just wake up one morning and think "blimey, Leeds Castle is one of the most beautiful castles in the whole of Britain, but it appears to be lacking something.... I know - a Dog Collar Museum!" I know down this neck of the woods there is a "Barometer World" which takes some beating, but I think the whole idea of a Dog Collar Museum runs it a close second.

Well the whole few weeks at Leeds being Santa was quite entertaining. Once more we got swamped with snow halfway through the run, with the castle actually closing on the middle Saturday. I was trapped in the castle for a few days unable to get back to my sister's place near Sittingbourne where I was due to stay. Thinking I would only be trapped for a couple of nights I took only a small amount of clothing with me. I was eventually stuck at the castle for nearly a week which necessitated frequent washing and drying of my clothes in the rooms I was staying in each evening. Seeing my grotty socks steaming on the classy rooms radiators was like finding Worzel Gummidge dossing in the Savoy. I was not the only Santa this year, we had Castle employee Alan Cheeseman working in a twin grotto which meant we could take more people in at peak times. Apart from the day times I was also due in the Castle for four evenings meeting children who had been on tours of the place. These were mostly charming as the children were so in awe of being shown round the castle by actors dressed as Panto characters and then to meet Santa in his study at the end and get a present - most were either beside themselves with excitement or gobsmacked into silence. However, one American family arrived. The parents were of the "Yo! Dude!" species normally associated with skateboarding, surfing or the west coast. Their precocious son of about 8 years came in. "What's your name?" I asked. It sounded like he replied "Lost in Chaos". I chuckled a little. Perhaps he was nervous and had mumbled. I asked again. "LOST IN CHAOS!" he roared, and fixed me with a stare as if to say I was some sort of imbecile. "That's nice for you..." I muttered. "And what would you like for Christmas?" I asked. "I already wrote you a Goddam letter two months ago!" He snapped. Bless. His parents smiled and laughed at him being so big and clever, and snapped a few photos. If he carried on like this they could get some pleasant shots of him being throttled and then chucked out the battlement window down into the icy moat 40 feet below. He was the exception though, most of the kids this year were a delight.

It was great to be back at the Castle again and seeing everyone again. A roll call of honour reads thus: Darlene - as ever, brilliantly leading from the front; Becky - her lieutenant, wonderful and ever helpful; Alan - deputy Santa, well played old chap!; Amy, Sarah, Sophie, Becky, Jen, Pippa & Adam - the finest Elves any Santa could wish for; Jeanne Beaton - just the most wonderful human being on Earth; and to all the other staff and volunteers at Leeds Castle, many thanks for making this one of the most pleasant Santa sessions ever.

Christmas Day was spent with my wife Amanda and my son James at their new home in Basildon, and Boxing Day down at my sister's place in Sittingbourne. 2010 came to a rather muted end as, on the 30th December Amanda's lovely Aunt Margaret finally lost her long battle with cancer and passed away. It was not unexpected but still very sad.

I finally got back to Somerset today, the 1st January. It felt like I had been away for a lifetime. My next Henry show is on Wednesday 5th when I am giving a talk for Sherborne Probus Club.

Rudolf Ferdinand, shortly before his call-up to Fabio Capello's England World Cup squad.

Another year done at Leeds Castle as Father Christmas. As you can see, I wasn't lying in the previous post about how my reindeer looked like Rio Ferdinand. The final four days at the castle had also included me working nights actually in the castle rather than down at my grotto. For these final days and because of the awful weather conditions in Kent, I didn't stay at Cathy's near Sittingbourne - their driveway was just too icy to get up! - and was housed at the Castle. I was in a room called Aviary 4. I wondered if they let this room to Aviary Tom Dick and Harry who came along...? I apologise for that joke.

Some of the children were just lovely - one little boy, somewhat overawed at meeting Father Christmas wasn't quite sure what he wanted for a present. He ummed and ahhed, and looking desperately round my grotto eventually blurted out that he wanted "a branch". His parents looked bemused, but I assured them if I was going to bring him a branch I would make sure it was a "special branch". I apologise for that joke as well.

I drove up to Essex on the evening of the 23rd December and picking up Amanda and James we headed down to Wales and my parent's place on Christmas Eve. My father cooked a magnificent Beef Wellington that evening. On Christmas Day we were joined by my sister Sue and her chap Ian and a wonderful day was had by all.

I drove Amanda and James back to Essex on the 27th and after that, just to see how much punishment a body and car can take, I then drove on down to Somerset and found myself at home for the first time in what seemed like a very long time. Climbing over a mountain of mail I entered a flat that resembled an ice block. Thank God for central heating.

New Year I am due down in Wales again, but purely dependent on the weather which is looking a tad ropey at the moment. We shall see.

Happy New Year to one and all. Here's to 2010.

Sleighing Them.

Good King Hal, cunningly disguised as Father Christmas, explains to Silvio Berlusconi's London Ambassador about how some investments may go up, down and even round and round. It's a tough job but someone had to do it.

Christmas is coming,
The goose is getting fat,

Please spend a penny

In the old man's hat. (Nearly).

Yes, December dawns, wet and miserable and that can only mean one thing = less than a month before David Tennant stops being Doctor Who. What am I going to do??? It also means it is time for me to rip off my cod-piece and tights, leap into an enormous red baby-gro, don a beard that makes me look like ZZ Top will in 25 years time and then start distributing presents to the good and great who visit Leeds Castle near Maidstone in Kent. Yes it is my FOURTH year of being Father Christmas at Leeds Castle. For the third time we are in the old Tennis pavilion with it's log walls and thatched roof, and once again Dallas (a man that CAN) has designed a winter wonderland within. From the enlarged waiting room, the children are led by merry elves through a series of small rooms showing scenes of Christmas cheer (Christmas cheer equals penguins, polar bears, reindeer and a light cascade that looks like a waterfall. Trust me, when you see it, it looks fabulous). Also different this year is my room. Gone is the cosy study look and instead I am seated on a large sleigh, with steps leading up to it so the children and parents can join me. I also have one very sad looking reindeer shackled to my sleigh via tinsel who bears more than a slight resemblance to Rio Ferdinand on a bad day. I am also surrounded by Christmas trees festooned with snow. It really looks the business. I was there for the first time on the 5th and 6th December, I am back again on the 13th and then from the 16th to the 23rd inclusive.

Rio Ferdinand, yesterday, just before kick off.

It's great to see the familiar faces of Leeds Castle again - Darlene Cavill, Helen Budd, Jeanne Beaton and everyone else. Even Mark Brattle took time off from flinging his owls around to come and say hello on Sunday. It was steady all through both days and not really too much like the Rorke's Drift effect we suffered last year. Our presents this year are books full of floor puzzles - large ones for older children and small books of puzzles for the younger ones.

I am staying with my sister Cathy and her husband, Julian, again when I am doing the shows at Leeds, and it is fun spending the evening with Cathy strumming guitars and singing badly to each other. We have decided to record a song to unleash upon the world, our first idea is to do a cover version - a hippie psychedelic version of Strawberry Switchblade's "Since Yesterday" from 1983. It will be the greatest thing ever recorded and should completely obliterate Simon Cowell and his evil empire when unleashed on an unsuspecting British audience early next year.

Oh, and Manchester City 2-1 Chelsea. Get in!

Dean Close School, Cheltenham & Henhayes OAP's!

Good King Hal, getting "jiggy wid der spriggy" at the Mistletoe Fayre. It didn't work.

After the joys of the Misteltoe Fayre I was up at the crack of dawn on a rainy and wind-blown Monday morning for a journey up the M5 to Cheltenham and a return for the 5th time to Dean Close School. It was good to be back and we had a lovely time. The morning session was full of fun and laughter, and there were some fabulous designs on the coat of arms that the children made. The main hall we were in was somewhat restricted for us by a huge stage poking out into the middle of the hall and a mass of chairs set up for a school production of "Godspell". Lunch at Dean Close was, as ever, wonderful. Pasta Bolognese, which for once with a school dinner was actually very very tasty and more-ish. I wolfed that down and then demolished a nice bowl of apple crumble and custard. Lovely! Because of the lack of space in the hall there was no room for a proper joust so instead I set up one set of quintane polls on the stage and the race was done purely as a time trial between two teams. The gents went first and posted a time of 1 minute and 19 seconds. Then it was the ladies turn. They did well but could only manage a time of 1 minute and 23 seconds. Therefore the score is now:

GENTLEMEN 8 - 12 LADIES

After re-loading the car I was on my way. The journey home was nice and, most importantly considering the recent weather, dry. If it had rained any more I was considering trading the Mazda in for a hovercraft, or even some water wings.

Today was nice and local - doing a talk to a pensioners group at the Henhayes Centre in Crewkerne. They had offered me travel expenses, but as I can virtually open my front door and fall into the Centre there seemed little point. I'd probably end up owing them money. The group was about 20 ladies and gents and they were all lovely and seemed to really enjoy it. I finished there, did some Christmas shopping in town and then headed for home.

Tomorrow I am back at The Maynard School in Exeter. I won't be able to add the result of the joust to the yearly school as, like Godstowe Prep in High Wycombe, this is an all-girls school. Thursday I am in Long Sutton in Somerset then this weekend I have my first appearances as Father Christmas at Leeds Castle - including the dreaded helicopter flight on Saturday. Watch this space for more...

Latest Santa News

Leeds Castle, and not a hint of Henry's chopper anywhere.

Just a quick one this time folks. I have just been chatting to the sainted Darlene at Leeds Castle about my upcoming stint as Father Christmas in December. On my first day (5th December) apparently there will be a little girl with me who has won a prize to open Father Christmas' grotto this year. Not only that, she and I will be arriving at Leeds Castle by helicopter! How exciting. Apart from the fact that I have never been in a helicopter before and I am therefore really hoping that I won't get air sick and end up blowing chunks all over this poor child. There is nothing more likely to give a child a complex about Christmas than by having Santa yelling Ralph and Huey at her from close range in a helicopter cock-pit. I have never got air-sick in a plane, so fingers crossed I can hang on to breakfast.

A Merry Christmas!

Well hello, loyal blog readers.  You might just have noticed my distinct lack of updates on this blog of late.  This is something to do with me not adding anything to the blog.  A feeble but, lets face it, water tight excuse.  The reasons for this are many fold but the most obvious one being that I have not had internet access at the new flat since I moved in, then since early December I have been mostly away in Kent doing my Father Christmas thing down at Leeds Castle again.  It's been great fun to be with everyone at the Castle again, especially the lovely Darlene and Helen, but it is also good to see the wonderful Jean, Judy, Carole and others who help out as my "Elves".

I've also been doing a few Henry VIIIth appearances at some schools, and also at Leeds Castle (again!) plus an appearance at Dillington House (as seen in the picture here) for their annual Christmas House Party which was tremendous fun.  

Working as Father Christmas is mentally, if not physically exhausting.  Being nice for all that time!!  It's just not me! The children are just delightful, so many sweet kids, one or two who scream at the first site of Father Christmas and just look terrified of the whole experience, and of course the occasional embarrassed, mortified looking teenager dragged into the grotto by an over enthusiastic parent!  The biggest down side of this work is to sit and constantly listen to the same CD of jolly Christmas music over and over again, seven days a week.  The added point that drives you insane is that the CD player is attached to about 15 different speakers throughout the grotto which splits the stereo sound up into different "areas". Therefore in the central grotto where I sit, the music has been split right down to just a backing track of keyboards, drums, backing vocals and the effects that had been layered on the lead vocals.  This would normally be OK with most music CD's, but we are playing Disney songs in the grotto this year, and few sounds can be more disturbing than to hear a music track of keyboards, drums, backing vocals and the lead effects vocals of Donald Duck, which makes him sound like a normal singer who's had to endure a trachaeotomy.  Scary.  No wonder the kids cry!  All joking aside, it has been a delight as ever to work at Leeds Castle and I shall be there until Christmas Eve.  Maybe see you there!

Merry Christmas, folks... 

A week off and a visit to Leeds Castle

Just had a nice relaxing week off - if you can count driving all over the country as being relaxing! I started off by visiting my sister Susan in Wales again. She has been having a bit of a tough time personally recently, and I like to visit her as often as I can to make sure she is OK, as she is quite isolated down in Carmarthen where she is. But with her for the few days I was there was also my parents, and my other sister Cathy and her husband Julian. So it was a full, and happy house, particularly as it was Cathy's birthday as well. We all had a good time and even the weather was very kind to us. For use in some shows in the near future, I managed to pick up a genuine 1941 gas mask in Newcastle Emlyn which will be of great help, particularly if the children eat a lot of cauliflower during lunch breaks.

After three lovely days in the bosom of my family it was time to drive right across country to Essex, and visit my wife and son. Again we had a lovely time, none more so than last night when cuddled up on the sofa with my little son watching "Ice Age 2" on DVD. Lovely! Yesterday I also popped down to Leeds Castle for a meeting with the sainted Darlene Cavill - Special Events Organiser par excellence! She was, as ever, with her gorgeous and equally brilliant assistant Helen Budd, and here is a picture of them both from Christmas a couple of years back, looking frozen as frost glistens on the croquet lawn outside Leeds Castle's main entrance. We chatted about me coming back as Father Christmas this December, a visit I am making in February during their archaeological "Big Dig" week and for my return in May for a mega Jousting Tournament. They then took me to lunch in the Fairfax Hall, along with John the Estate Manager and top bloke and we had a really nice time.

So there you have it! Back to normal next week with appearances at Archbishop Cranmer School in Taunton, South Green Junior in Billericay and Godstowe Prep in High Wycombe. All that AND Matthew Applegate's 50th birthday party. But I didn't tell you about that, alright?

Being Santa. Leeds Castle and Jester Pain.

5th December. I had just done a half day as Henry at Holway Park Junior School in Taunton with some challenging kids and was due to be heading off ASAP to Kent to stay at my sister’s house before beginning my stint as Santa at Leeds Castle the following day. I had so much still to do that there was little chance of me shooting straight off, so I headed home and got things ready at a much statelier pace. I waited until Amanda and James were home before hitting the road. I got to Cathy’s near Sittingbourne and settled in for the night on my luxury sofa!
6th December. My first day as Santa. The grotto at the Castle is wonderful. It is housed in the old Tennis Pavilion with a skating rink under canvas alongside it and a refreshments tent. You enter through a big old gnarled wooden door to a waiting area with toys scattered about for the children to play with and with a DVD playing in the corner with a Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer film showing. You begin the walk through to Santa by sauntering past the old animatronics reindeer from last year. Through the arch leads you to a “Winter Garden” with a bridge over a “light waterfall” and a figure of a small girl skating (she packed up working after only a few days and was never properly fixed!). You then go past the best part of the tour – a full size “Toy Machine” with a conveyor belt churning out presents ready to be wrapped up. You then walk down a small tunnel lit with blue lights, turn right and there you are in Santa’s study with me sitting on a throne, with a fire place and some chairs for the children to sit on. They can chat to Santa before getting their presents. This year I am handing out Penguins. The opening couple of days are something of a “phoney war” period with long parts of the day with very few punters coming through.
7th December. After finishing at the Castle today I am off to the Hazlitt Theatre in Maidstone to appear at a party for the children of employees of a local company and to hand out presents in my capacity as Santa. I am driven to the event by a taxi driver who tells me the company in question is a debt collection agency. I do worry somewhat that this invitation to appear as Santa is just a cunning ambush ploy by disgruntled creditors of mine. At the event at the Corn Exchange part of the building, the children come up to a raised stage area to meet me and I hand out specially wrapped presents handed to me by a couple of elves. The children then pose for photos with me, taken by a photographer who prints them immediately. The actors appearing at the Panto at the Hazlitt come over to meet the children as well. Some of them pose for photos with me, including a couple of very leggy fairy ladies not wearing very much. This is the highlight of the evening by a long way! For the next few nights and to give my sister and her husband a break, I am staying at the castle. My room is called the “Creve Coeur Room” and is right up in the battlements of the main part of the castle. It is freezing cold outside and equally freezing inside when I get back from Maidstone. I phone down to “Housekeeping” to see if someone can sort out the lack of heating in my room. The phone rings a couple of times and is answered by a lady with the words “pantry – what?” in a very angry sounding voice. Now I could have been anyone – President of Peru, Princess Alexandra, or even a proper paying guest, not the free-loader I actually was, nevertheless she should have been careful. I explain where I am and my lack of heating. She interrupts me.
“You HAVE heating in that room.” I can see my breath as steam as I speak.
“No I don’t…” I start to say. She won’t have it and once more re-asserts that I do have heating in my room. I invite her up to my room to prove otherwise. She grudgingly offers to go off and talk to the butler and then promptly hangs up. Now I am no expert on customer relations, but I have a feeling that her performance was not straight out the manual. About 20 minutes later my radiator starts clanking and gurgling and finally some heat starts to seep out. By bed time the ice has melted and even the Polar Bears are complaining about the heat.
8th December. The first Saturday gives me an impression of what to expect as it gets closer to Christmas. This is like Zulu only with small children and their parents replacing the South African warriors. We are practically forming the wagons into a circle and hurling the penguins at the customers to hold them off. I end up with only about 10 minutes lunch break. Amanda and James come up to see me, as do my parents, Amanda’s parents, Amanda’s sister Maria and two of her children. I see them so fleetingly and it is only later that it dawns on me that the next time I shall see them is Christmas Eve.
The following two weeks chug slowly by. Weekdays are mostly quiet, weekends almost unbearably busy. I spend most of my evenings staying at Cathy and Julian’s, but I am due back to stay at the Castle again for the 20th to the 23rd inclusive.
On the evening of the 13th I have been invited to appear at another banquet at the Castle as Henry. I had been contacted by Hospitality a few weeks previously and Kerry there had mentioned something about the evening ending with me reading a ghost story to the punters after their meal. I had heard nothing since that phone call. Once at the castle I had made several attempts to hear from Hospitality about what the evening was going to comprise of, but again I had heard nothing. I wandered up to the Castle about 6.30pm and was shown to a side office which I could use as a changing room. After a quick cup of tea and a change I was out and about as Henry. I spoke to the temporary head butler and she informed me that they wanted me to meet and greet in the main library as guests entered. This was good fun and everything was going fine, when suddenly there is a commotion in the main hall and Davey the Jester enters. I have worked with this man before and he is a very fine Jester indeed, but by God is he loud. He hollers and shouts at a few of the punters and then wanders off towards the banquet hall. I continue being kingly and meeting and greeting when suddenly the lady butler asks me to announce dinner and progress everyone down to the Banquet Hall. I do my big booming announcement and lead them off playing my little Dordrecht recorder at their head. As I approach the Banquet Hall I can see Davey with his hands on his hips staring at me. I just walk past with the rest of the guests, lead them into the Hall and invite the honoured guests to be seated. As I walk outside Davey grabs me.
“What’s your game?” he shouts. “I progress them down from the library!”
“I was asked to by the staff…” I begin to explain, but Teddy has well and truly left the Pram by now.
“I always lead them down to the Banquet Hall. You’ll have to wait till the end and progress them back, pal.” Let me explain a little about Davey – he is from North of Watford and has that really grating Lancastrian drawl for a voice. Now I would be quite happy to apologise for progressing the guests down without realising it was his special-wecial jobby-wobby, but one thing guaranteed to put my back up is for some Lancastrian half wit to start referring to me in a derogatory way as “Pal” and telling me I had done wrong when I had done nothing of the sort. A magician had been booked as well apparently. He has only been booked for an hour, so after an hour and after not finishing going round the table completely he just clears off – much to the chagrin of some of the customers as they haven’t seen him in action. Davey is still in full war cry making frequent references to me as “pal” again and going on about people taking other people’s work. Subtle is not his nickname. It also turns out Hospitality have booked a harpist for the night but she has just not turned up full stop. The guests in the Banquet Hall are freezing cold. There is a big fire ablaze but it is not up to heating the full room and by now the ladies in their nice little frocks and dresses are fully wrapped up in coats and hats as they eat their meals. Arguments continue among the waiting staff as to whether they can risk extra heating in the ancient wood panelled Banquet Hall. And of course, can you get hold of anyone from Hospitality about this total cock up of an evening? No of course you can’t – all have long since left their offices and their mobiles are turned off. Davey finally shoves off with a few more unsubtly barbed remarks in my direction. I progress the now almost cryogenically frozen guests back to the Yellow Drawing Room, with promises of nice after dinner drinks and a roaring fire. The drinks are there, but the fire may have roared earlier, but it is barely whimpering now and has all but gone out. Pretty much like my enthusiasm for Hospitality and their banquets. Feeling pretty hacked off with life in general I wander back to the side office that I am using as a changing room and, admittedly rather childishly, kick the door open with a mixture of frustration and anger for the way the evening has gone. The door shoots open a short way before hitting something solid which makes a sort of “oomph!” noise. It turns out to be the Jester in mid-clothing change. I got him! So every cloud does have a silver lining! I get back to my sister’s house at around 11pm. It has been a long, long day. Hospitality had all but burnt their bridges with me by letting their only good contact there go (the divine Nikki Dorkings), but this evening has been the final straw, and I let Kerry know all about my feelings the next day. She makes a few noises but none of them conciliatory so forget it. And lest you think I am being a little uncharitable in my views of Davey, this man is a Vicar by day. You gotta love that Christian attitude of his.
The rest of the Santa weeks go by slowly but surely. I haven’t been away from my wife and son as long as this before and I cannot wait to see them. All the staff and helpers with the sainted Darlene Cavill and the Special Events team are fantastic and I would like to make it clear here and now that Darlene, the lovely Helen Budd, the wonderful Jean Beaton, Coralie, Carole, Helen, Helen, John, Dallas, Ian, Richard, Barry and everyone else who contributed to helping me be a successful Santa, it was a pleasure to work with you all. You are stars. And to Howard and Sue for the food, drinks and mulled wine – thank you as well!
I stayed at my sisters until the final few days when I slept in the Culpepper Rooms near the Fairfax Hall Dining Room. These rooms were very cosy and warm but unfortunately were too close to the Fairfax Hall when the evening bands were playing. All I can say is that most of them started at about 10pm and had amazingly loud bass amps. Thankfully I was so tired that I slept through most of it.
I finally finished at around 2.30pm on Christmas Eve and headed straight for home. I got to Clapton at about 5pm and was never more pleased to see my lovely wife and son. A fine Christmas Day was spent with Amanda and James, and Amanda’s parents.

Dunster First School

Dunster! Ah, fair Dunster! This is one of my all time favourite schools and it was so nice to be back there for the fourth year running. However, today was to be a little bit different.

I arrived early as for once, Taunton was in a benevolent mood and I managed to sail through the usual bottle-necks. I was greeted as warmly as ever with some lovely kids and the usual wonderful teachers.

The opening morning talk went really well with some of the children laughing so much at some of the jokes that I did wonder if we might see the occasional accident. The floor however remained thankfully free of suspicious puddles.

The other big thing today was that I was due to meet the photographer from The Guardian today who was doing a shoot of me dressed as Father Christmas for a feature for their magazine of the 15th December. He arrived almost spot on noon so instead of my usual lunch break, I was now dressed as Father Christmas and gurning at a camera in a small courtyard in Dunster School! Steve, the photographer, must have shot off about 100+ pictures of me being silly, pensive, jolly, wistful - nearly every conceivable pose you could imagine. We finished off with some nice ones of me in my Henry costume with the Santa robes draped over my shoulders. I will be interested to see how the pics look as they come out.

The afternoon was good with a great joust with a superb gents team just nicking a win from a very creditable ladies team.

Tomorrow I am at Holway Park school in Taunton for a morning visit, and then I am on my way to Kent to begin my residence as Santa at Leeds Castle.