Celebrate the City, Ingatestone Hall and THIS IS YOUR LIFE!

The Guildhall and the Guildhall Art Gallery, mere seconds after it was announced Good King Hal was going to start his comedy routine.

If I am going to be completely honest, I was dreading going up to London this weekend.  I sometimes find it hard to believe that I lived in London between 1986 and 1990 - and loved it!  But then London is a young person's City and now at my rapidly advancing years I find getting there a pain, I find it busy, fast, clogged up and usually very unfriendly.  However, Saturday was a lot nicer.  I caught the train from sunny Laindon Station and was then whisked up to London Fenchurch Street in only about half an hour.  I then caught a cab from there to the Guildhall Yard where I was due at the Guildhall Art Gallery.  I was warmly welcomed by Catty (how it was pronounced!) and given a lovely cup of tea, which really hit the spot, before being given a whistle stop tour of the Gallery and exhibition.  I got changed and then launched out into the yard - it was partially full of stalls, some selling craft type items, others fine smelling exotic food stuffs.  This was all part of the City of London Festival known as Celebrate the City.  Roads had been blocked off in the square mile to make it pedestrian friendly, and I was briefed with walking up and down King Street (rather appropriately), Cheapside (even more appropriately) and then back into the Guildhall Yard.  There were masses of stalls celebrating each and everyone of the City's Famous Guilds, there was livestock, farriers, sporty things and masses of street entertainment - myself included.  I had a quick bash at a ping pong game with two very sporty young lasses (down boy!) and an egg and spoon race (honest), before heading back to the Guildhall Yard, where I wandered round for the rest of the morning, meeting and greeting.  I was given some very nice Thai food from one stall which I sat down and ate in the corner of the yard.  I was then approached by a very nice lady who sat down next to me and offered me a cup of tea.  When I said yes, she then disappeared - it turned out she had to go back to the church to get the tea, bless her.  She also let me have a very nice white chocolate cookie, which was above and beyond the call of friendliness!  And after all that, she then simply slipped away into the crowd, so whoever you were Madam, the King is very grateful.

I posed for another mass of photos, with various people, including one stunning young lady from Brazil - looks like it might be worth moving there....  And before long it was nearly 5.30pm and my time was done.  I quickly changed back in the Art Gallery and then, dragging my Henry bag of costume behind me, I headed away to find a cab to take me back to Fenchurch Street Station.  I was picked up by a very nice chap from Brentwood in Essex who was fascinated by my Henry VIII job and was so taken with my story of my alternative career that he knocked a whole £1 off my fare!  What a nice chap.  My view of London improved immeasurably.  The journey back was uneventful and I was soon back with my lovely son James, devouring a very naughty take away pizza.

Sunday was supposed to be the uneventful day.  How wrong I was.  I was due over at Ingatestone Hall at about 11am, and the journey from the verdant grasslands of Steeple View to Ingatestone is only about 20 minutes at most.  I came out of the road where I was staying to be confronted by non moving gridlocked traffic.  I tried various back doubles and rat runs to escape this, but ended up being inextricably snarled up on a dual carriageway - FOR AN HOUR.  So from leaving at 10.40am, I finally arrived, a broken man, at Ingatestone Hall at about 12.15pm.  The Tudor Roses were already there and changed and ready for action.  There was Lady Emma, Lady Erica, Lady Katherine and a young Lady (please insert name here if you know it!), who was joining in the fun, but looking utterly terrified every time she was near me.

It was great to see my dear old friend Anne Edwards there today.  Anne has been very ill of late, but she was there with a couple of friends to enjoy the sunshine and ambiance of Ingatestone Hall, which is lovely.  I had a good chat with her and her friends.  We then had a spot of lunch, given to us by Lord Petre and his staff - very welcoming.  I then had another long chat with Anne and her group.  Next we were outside on the lawns for the Roses to give a display of Tudor Dancing, with yours truly tootling the Dordrecht and letting the ladies do their "thing".  We had just finished a couple of dances, when I was walking back to the Hall when I heard a voice tentatively calling my name.  I looked up to see Anuscheh Missaghian - a lovely lady I was at school with and someone I had not seen since 1984!  She now lives in the Canary Islands and just happened to be in England for a couple of days, and just by chance happened to pop into Ingatestone Hall with some friends - and here we were!  Fantastic!  So a typical Tudor Day at a lovely country house ended up resembling some kind of "This is Your Life" episode.  Anuscheh commented on my rotundity - how dare she!  What does she want Henry to look like?  Some kind of poor half starved child from the centre of a cholera outbreak zone?  Anyway, it was great to see Anne looking so good and an utter surprise and delight to see Anuscheh.  A lovely day!

And now........... a WEEK OFF!  HURRAH!

A Great Entertainer Takes His Last Bow

I got a text message the other night from my old friend Sara Turner back in Essex. She and I would regularly go to the Star pub in Ingatestone High Street on Monday evening's to listen to live folk music played by a random group of musicians - nothing was really planned or rehearsed, it was just a case of who ever turned up, then played. Among the great musicians who turned up regularly were Dave Wilcox - banjo player supreme; Alex Mihailovic - a superb fiddler; Mike - a great guitarist, mandolin player and vocalist; and many more. Some evenings there would be just one musician, other evenings there would be ten or more, all crammed into one corner of this funny little old pub and belting out great music. But of all the attractions, there was really only one true "star" - and that was Gus.

Gus Dallaway was originally from Trinidad and had come over to the UK in the 1950's. He worked for British Rail as a line man and lived in Margaretting, a small village in Essex just to the south of Chelmsford. My grandparents and my father lived in Margaretting and knew Gus very well, particularly from his time playing as a member of the village cricket team. Gus was clearly not the world's greatest cricket player, but he brought infectious enthusiasm to the game and, as an added bonus, each week would make up a calypso about the previous week's match and would bring in each member of the team into his songs. I remember Gus from when I was a young child as this larger than life colourful character who permanently seemed positive and a force for good.

When I met up with Gus again in the 1990's at the Star Pub in Ingatestone it was a revelation. Gus would not turn up until about 9.30pm at the very earliest, he would sit at the bar and have a couple of drinks, but would then launch himself onto the "stage" with the band, and just take over! His staple songs would include "Yellow Bird", "Pick a Bail of Cotton", "Bless This House" and, best of all, an absolutely heart stopping version of "Old Man River" which may sound like a bit of a cliche, but Gus' version was so truly moving as to reduce grown men to tears (the author included).

As Gus got older, so his rheumatism and arthritis got worse and he finally decided he would like to go back to the warm climate of Trinidad for his final years. In 1996 a massive farewell party was organised at The Star with all the musicians playing for Gus. Sara and I got there and the place was packed - but of Gus there was no sign. The band started playing and the evening got going with a swing, but still Gus hadn't arrived. Finally a shout went out that Gus had finally got to the pub. A hush descended on the bar, the band stopped playing and the lights were dimmed. The double front doors of the pub slowly swung open to reveal Gus, silhouetted against the freezing cold Essex night, dressed in a long Matrix style black leather coat right down to the ground but done up tight to his neck, and on his head a white fur Russian military hat. There was a stunned moment of silence as everyone took in this awesome image, then a small drunken voice near the back of the room said:

"F*ck me, it's a pint of Guinness." The room erupted into laughter. It was a magnificent evening with a party that will live with me until the day I die. Gus was on marvellous form and totally dominated the entertainment all night. It was a truly fitting send off for one of the finest natural showmen and entertainers I have ever had the pleasure to meet. And so Gus departed our shores, leaving the country a little duller for it and settled back in Trinidad.

A few years back my parents were on a cruise in the West Indies and one of the stops was at Tobago, Trinidad's sister island. They phoned Gus and were going to try and meet up with him, but unfortunately it never came to fruition.

And so I got Sara's text message two days ago. There had been an announcement in the Essex Chronicle newspaper that Gus Dallaway had passed away at the ripe old age of 89 on the island of Trinidad. I sat quietly and remembered back to all those old days back at The Star in Ingatestone, the fun evenings, the entertainment that Gus had given to everyone and the pleasure he brought to so many people's lives. And most of all, to those hushed moments when he would perform "Old Man River" and get to those magical lyrics near the end:

But you and me,

We sweat and strain,

Body all aching and wracked with pain,

"Tote that barge!"

"Lift that bale!"

You Get a little drunk,

And you land in jail.

I gets weary

And sick of trying

I'm tired of living

But I'm scared of dying,

But ol' man river,

He just keeps rolling along.

Gus Dallaway, rest in peace my friend.

Thundersley Junior

Almost exactly one year ago I made my first appearance at Thundersley Junior in Southend-on-Sea in Essex. I remember us having a really good time, so I was looking forward to my return visit today. I was not to be disappointed. My journey down was incredibly easy and I arrived very early, so I parked up with a newspaper and drink to kill some time before everyone else arrived.

I got my usual warm welcome from the staff and was soon set up in the hall for the days fun and games to begin. They were a really nice bunch of children, about 60+ of them, but very sparky and attentive and brilliantly well behaved. The morning just seemed to fly past.

I had a lovely lunch of roast beef sitting next to one of the male teachers who suddenly turned out to be Andy Whittams, a guy I used to go to school with back in the late 70's and early 80's at the Ingatestone Anglo-European School. What a small world! It was nice to see him. He had just returned from visiting another old friend of mine, Adrian Robinson who now lives in Switzerland. The funny thing is we used to call Adrian "Swiss Family" because of his surname!

The afternoon was a great session, very lively and full of laughs, and wouldn't you just know it? The ladies came through and triumphed in the Jousting final! Don't they nearly always?

I have tomorrow off, before heading off to Berkshire in Friday and a Henry visit to the town of Kingsclere.