Ferries, New Costumes and Bizarre Questions...

Good King Hal, shamelessly using his blog in yet another attempt to flog off tickets to see Michael Wood (left) give a talk at the Chalke Valley History Festival next Friday (28th June).  You know you want to... Contact the King via his website (www.goodkinghal.co.uk) if you do!

In many of my recent adventures and visits to the Isle of Wight, I seem to have made something of an art form of missing the ferry.  I have slithered to a halt on the dockside at Lymington at various different times of day, to see the backside of the ferry I wanted, steaming happily out into the Solent without me on board.  With another visit to dear old Vectis due, I was determined this was not going to happen again.  I got up disgustingly early, knowing that I had to be at the ferry terminal for the 6.15am sailing over to Yarmouth.  I got ready, half scalded myself on a hastily slurped cup of tea and scuttled off to my car.  I punched in the post code into my sat nav and waited while it worked out how long it would take me to get to the ferry terminal.  It's initial estimated time of arrival was 6.16am.  Bu99er!  I was NOT going to miss another ferry.  So I drove like smoke down to Dorchester, along the Troy Town bypass, hammered past Wimborne with my tyres almost melting and by the time I reached Ringwood I was approaching light speed.  The ETA on my sat nav was now spiralling backwards - this was almost like time travel!  But it seemed that I was going to arrive at the ferry with a good 10 minutes to spare before the sailing at 6.15.  I got a clear run over the final miles and arrived at a worryingly empty looking ferry terminal at 5.59am.  It was only then as I sat on a virtually deserted concourse that I checked my paperwork.  I was actually booked on the 6.45am ferry.  Ah.  So I now had roughly three quarters of an hour to kill while I waited for the official ferry and could have done the whole journey with much less hyperspace and screaming.  Well, we live and learn.

Simple pleasures like just sitting and sleeping in your car as you scoot over the Solent in only about a half hour crossing, are now not allowed.  Due to that scourge of modern society - "health and safety", drivers must vacate their vehicles and then allow themselves to be incarcerated in the moodily lit passenger lounge where Wight Link Ferries spend the entire crossing trying to fleece cash out of you.  They stop just short of letting heavily muscled stevedores give you Chinese burns until you succumb, but it is surely only a matter of time before they introduce this.  I disembarked the ferry and began the pleasant drive across the island to Ryde and a return visit to Haylands Primary.  This was a different Haylands though this time, located as they now are in a brand new purpose built centre.  It is a stunning building, even more impressive inside than it is outside.  We had a great day at the school - a whole load of laughs, and some really nice children in great costumes.  I took great delight in choosing one classroom assistant to be Anne Boleyn in the morning session as she looked like Madonna, circa "Who's That Girl" and gave me a good excuse to crank out some elderly jokes.

After a very nice roast pork lunch it was a rollicking afternoon session.  The children roared with laughter throughout most of the nonsense I peddle out.  We came to a brilliant jousting session which a very good ladies team ran away with in the final. They are virtually unstoppable at the moment.

GENTLEMEN 19 - 26 LADIES

I began the long trek home, managed to catch the correct ferry and got home, clutching a Chinese take away and yawning like a good 'un.  It really was time for an early night.

Wednesday 19th was a day off, but I was off over to see the multi-talented Judy Picton to pick up my newest addition to my costumes.  Judy has created a beautiful black flowing doublet, with garnets and silver fixings.  It looks absolutely wonderful.  Judy is an absolute genius, very modest, but she really shouldn't be.  Her skills are undoubted and if anyone should need a truly gifted seamstress, this is the lady to go and see.  Judy Picton of Martock - you heard it here first folks.

My new costume didn't have long to wait for it's first outing.  I was back at one of my favourite schools today - Paulton Junior near Bristol.   l love this place - you are always guaranteed a very warm welcome from all the teachers and a group of very sparky, chatty, funny kids - and as ever all in fabulous costumes.  And today was no let down, a real bundle of laughs, and one very bizarre question in the "Q&A" section just before lunch.  All the usual questions had come out: "how fat was he?" "did he have pets?" "when was his birthday?" etc., when one little girl put her hand up and asked me very earnestly "Who are you?"  I was a bit taken aback.  "Er... me or Henry?" I enquired.  She looked at me hard for a few seconds and then said "I don't know".  And on that bombshell it was off to lunch - lots of pleasant chats in the staff room with the nice relaxed atmosphere that pervades this lovely school, and then more utter nonsense in the afternoon culminating in a much needed win for the Gents in the jousting.

GENTLEMEN 20 - 26 LADIES

It is seriously closer than it should be.  The ladies have seemed to have held the whip hand since the start of the educational year, but the boys have hung in there.  It was very hot today - not sunny, but very close and muggy, and by the end of our session in the afternoon I was flagging badly.  Never was I more grateful to sling the last of my Henry gear in the back of the car and climb in and turn on the air conditioning.  I drove home, pausing only at Popular Motors in Merriott to replace my shredded windscreen wiper blades which were so awful today that I spent most of the period driving up to Paulton in braille.

Got home this evening and carried on trying to sort out a visit to Ireland in the next couple of weeks, for a much needed holiday.  Finally got my ferry booking sorted out.  Let's hope my arrival at Fishguard for the crossing will be a bit better organised than my recent efforts at Lymington.  But now is no time to rest on any laurels.  I am off out pretty early again tomorrow for a drive up to Cardiff Castle for three days jousting with the Knights of Royal England.  And the weather forecast is not exactly positive.  Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye.

Big Blog No Looky

Good King Hal asking King Charles II of Spain in drag, to spare him a couple of hundred groats for a cup of Reformation.... TEA!  He meant tea.

Honestly, loyal folks out there, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is failing fast.  I am slowly losing the will to write this blog to be honest.  The worst thing I could do was to publish it on Facebook, as now they send you a weekly update as to how your page and posts are doing.  The caption competition?  Regularly garners somewhere in the region of 200-300 hits.  My little one line updates?  Anything from about 80 up to 200.  My blog entries?  Er.... well, not as many.  In fact a recent one which I had written and taken a long time over getting it right managed to only get 19 hits.  Now that is not the sort of results you are looking for after pouring your guts out on the page.  So despite doing three shows this week I have struggled to find the enthusiasm for writing the damn thing up.  Perhaps I should just make it all up, and see if anyone notices.  OK, lets do that for a bit.

Ahem, OK, so I was at the "Skyfall" premiere the other night in my full Tudor gear.  I had been asked to go along by Cubby Brocolli's ghost and a small bowl of petunias.  I was accompanied to the soiree by Cardinal Richeleu, Max Jaffa, The Dagenham Girl Pipers and Dog the Bounty Hunter.  We arrived in a stretch limo made out of two off cuts of a Bond Bug and a US Military Hummer.  I waved at the crowd and shouted "God kväll mina underbara brittiska vänner! Denna Bygel-BH dödar mig, men tack och lov kan jag skaffa mig en Pimms och saft kort. Toodle pip!"  It's amazing where a bit of fluent Swedish can get you - Ulrika Jonsson's house for a start.  Just ask Sven.  Anyway, I tripped up the red carpet, but didn't spill a drop.  Sir Alex Ferguson came to greet me with a big smile on his ravaged red face.  I felled him with a swinging left hook.  As he struggled back to his feet I once more pole-axed the puce faced thistle arsed Scottish whinge bag with two short upper cuts and a lethal rabbit punch.  The crowd cheered tossing marmite vol-au-vonts in the air.  Just at that moment I felt a weak pathetic tap on my shoulder.  It was Daniel Craig in an I-Zingari romper suit with matching bonnet.  He mumbled something in that weak girly voice of his.  "WHAT?" I roared back at him, in my finest Brian Blessed.  So startled was he that he didn't need Movicol that night.  He finally managed to mumble something about leaving his wife alone.  I reached past him and grabbed Rachel Weisz, pulled her to me for a vacuum like snog and then said "Don't let's cheapen this, it was fun while it lasted, but you'll get over me..."  She fell to her knees, begging me to have her back, but it was too late.  I was already halfway up the Shard skyscraper with Fay Wray in my hands, and trying to stop bi-planes shooting me up the arse.  But then, all of a sudden, I couldn't have been more surprised when who should open a window on the 126th floor but... (continued on page 96).

There, that should confuse some of my foreign fans on Facebook.  Or perhaps I should have shouted in Czech?  A teď něco úplně jiného. Zde je Good King Hal obvykle blog.  See?  I told you.

Well for those who really do read this far, this is how the week has gone.  Sunday saw me driving back to the Isle of Wight, one year on from that awful journey (please see former entry about that!).  This time around my voyage to deepest darkest Ventnor was most pleasant, and apart from missing the 3.45pm boat I was booked on at Lymington, hassle free.  On the boat however, the personal choice Fascists have got to work.  No longer can you just kip in your car for the 20 minute crossing - oh no.  No, you are not allowed to enjoy that little pleasure.  You are forced, virtually at gun point up to the passenger lounge where you are assailed by piped music, advertising video screens and over priced coffee and sandwiches.  And if you complain you get keel hauled, which in the Solent is not much fun.  I arrived at Hannah Larkin's place (the teacher who books me at St Francis' School in Ventnor) just after 6pm and we went straight out, with a friend of hers to a nice pub called The Dairyman's Daughter at Arreton. 

The following day at the school was fun, hard work,  but ultimately very rewarding.  The jousting session in the afternoon was deafening and culminated in another win for the gents.  They have been doing a lot better of late and have managed to claw the score back to:

GENTLEMEN 5 - 5 LADIES

I left Ventnor and drove across the island in beautfiul early winter sunshine, taking in the magnificent views from the old Military Road down to Freshwater Bay.  Lovely. I managed to get an earlier ferry than expected and was soon being forced at gun point back up to the passenger lounge.  I drove back through Christchurch (for my sins) and eventually found myself at home munching through a very welcome Chinese meal.

I spent Tuesday visiting my old friend Pete Flanagan over at Tatworth where he lives, and it is nice to see him back on his feet again after such an awful injury he suffered in a road accident just over a year ago.  Again for details, search this blog.  On the Wednesday I was up bright and early for a trip back down to Knightwood School in Chandler's Ford near Southampton.  I was warmly welcomed as ever by Lee, the caretaker, who made me a bucket of tea and then told me his latest health problems, which was a bit of an eye opener.  Knightwood is such a brilliant school and we had a great day in their brilliantly architectured hall.  Even a disappointing lunch wasn't too bad - the dinner staff hadn't been told I was coming so hadn't cooked enough, but they let me have some home made pizza.  Now normally cheese at a primary school is as mild as Rowan Williams, but today the cheese on the pizza was more like being shouted at by Rev Ian Paisley.  It was CHEEEEEEEEESE, with a capital ouch.  But it filled a hole!  Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves on the Tudor Day and once more the joust went down a storm and we finished with another victory for the ladies team.  They now poke their noses back in front again, just holding off the gents.  Our score moves on to:

GENTLEMEN 5 - 6 LADIES

It was surprisingly cold down in Chandler's Ford that day and I was grateful for my big coat and heating in the car.  The drive home back through Salisbury was just like my old days going back from Skandia Life in Southampton.  I also might be startling some other old Skandia chums as the local rag for Southampton came along and did a load of photos of me for publication.  It will interesting to see if anyone in that neck of the woods notices.

Thursday was another show day, but a lot closer to home this time.  I was off back to the lovely Parkfield School in Taunton and another meet up with the legendary Head Teacher there, the deliciously named Mr Wynford Sides.  Parkfield is a delight, and it didn't disappoint one jot this time round.  Great fun day, lovely to see all my old friends there, including Christine - Bonjour, mon petit ami français!   A group of 60+ children, all very enthusiastic and all dressed in great costumes was the recipe for a perfect Henry VIII day. Even lunch was great - each year the staff at Parkfield insist on nipping out and buying me lunch, which makes me feel very grateful, but embarrassed.  So this year, on the way in I had stopped at a Spar store in Ilminster and had grabbed some sarnies and a drink.  I told EVERYONE at the school I had done this - everyone that was, except one.  And she trudged off to the local Tescos and returned with a lunch for me, only to discover me chewing my way through my own sandwiches when she returned to the school.  Bless her, she let me keep the lunch she'd bought, so I had it as a light dinner in the evening when I got home.  The final joust was another nail biter and finished with another victory for the ladies.  So our week finishes with the score at:

GENTLEMEN 5 - 7 LADIES

I drove home, ate my second lunch and then went out for a drink with Matthew Applegate at the Rose and Crown at East Lambrook.  Luckily the landlady wasn't there, so we had a lovely evening.

(cont from page 96)....with thick bleach and an oven glove.  But it wasn't enough.  Sure enough rivulets of molten magma began seeping under the door of the crofters cottage.  I turned quickly to see if anyone had any bright ideas.  Bryan Ferry was simply rocking back and forth on a stool in the corner saying "go to a happy place go to a happy place" over and over.  Douglas Bader was worried he'd be burnt to the ground (ba-doom-tish!) and Lily Cole STILL hadn't replied to my message on Facebook.  Call yourself a cousin???  With a final surge of energy and adrenaline, I leapt out of the window in a shower of glass and landed on the former speaker of the House of Commons, Bernard Weatherall.  I said "I thought you were dead."  He said "You can talk, dressed as Henry VIII".  I cuffed him playfully round the ear with my speaking trumpet and was soon on my Honda Fireblade roaring through the countryside on my way for a date with destiny.  But would you believe it, but who should come round the corner on a traction engine, with the Somerset T20 squad, Schnorbitz the dog and Dorothy Squires, but none other than old....(cont. next week).

Earn Enough For Us

Good King Hal and Sir William of Antioch showing utter contempt for the Red Jousting team by hiding near a castle down the blue end of the arena.

The final Sunday of the jousting tournament at Leeds Castle had shown little promise - weather-wise.  Early forecasts indicated that something akin to Hurricane Katrina was going to strike the Maidstone area and reduce most things to utter carnage.  Michelle Coda and I kept close tabs on the BBC on line forecasts for most of the Saturday evening.  First prognostications indicated that rain was going to be falling by 10am on the Sunday - about an hour later this had been put back to 2pm.  When we next checked it was predicted for 4pm - which suited us as that was by the time the second jousting show had finished.  Just before we left for the castle on the Sunday morning the rain was not expected until nearly 11pm - so that was all good.  Of course as soon as we arrived at the Castle that morning it started spotting with rain, but it didn't really set in.

We had another fine day of fun jousting - lots of laughs, but by the end of the day the lads who actually do the fighting and rushing around were completely bushed, poor little devils.  I said a fond farewell to everyone and was soon on my long lonely way back down to Somerset.  I got home about 7pm.

After a Monday of recuperation I was up very early on the Tuesday (4am - ARGH!) to drive down to Lymington to catch an early ferry (6.45am - ARGH!) over to the Isle of Wight.  I was going over to Haylands School in Ryde for my 4th visit to this lovely school.  I was one of the first cars onto the ferry and, overcome with tiredness as I was, I simply stayed in the car for the voyage across the Solent and snored loudly from the drivers seat.  I trust the Captain on the ferry didn't do similar.  It simply poured with rain as I drove across the island to Ryde - I got soaked after I arrived at the school and ferried my props into the hall.  It was a lovely lively group today - about 60 year 3 children, but all very switched on and full of beans.  We had a fantastic day - lots of laughs, they were easily one of the most with it and clever year 3 groups I had worked with for a very long time.

After a fine roast dinner lunch (I asked one of the office ladies at the school what the roast was, she told me that it was pork as there was crackling - she disappeared and then returned saying that she at least hoped it was pork as there was crackling involved... Don't worry folks, it was pork, just don't tell my rabbi.), we were back in the hall for the stocks and the jousting.  It was a great tournament, something of a riot to begin with as it often is with year 3 kids, but they soon got the hang of it.  In the grand final, despite having led nearly all the way through, the gents team managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and the ladies walked away with the title.  This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 27 LADIES

I left the school at about 3.30pm and arrived in Yarmouth in time for the 4.30pm ferry back to Lymington.  After an uneventful crossing I was back on the road and finally arrived home tired, drained but thankfully paid, at about 7.30pm (ARGH!).  I snored loudly in front of the Euro 2012 match between Poland and Russia, and finally gave up and went to bed at 10.30pm (ARGH!).

You can hear Good King Hal again this Friday from 9am (ARGH!) on the Emma Britton Show on BBC Somerset, coming "live" from Barrington Court.  Tune in or check it out on line on www.bbc.co.uk/Somerset .



The Long March

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!

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

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!

St Francis Junior, Ventnor, Isle of Wight

Good King Hal firing a tranquilising dart at restless pupils during his fourteen hour presentation on the Pilgrimage of Grace. My how they laughed.

On Wednesday evening I had popped over to Martock to see my friend Judy who is making me a new Henry costume. She was also renovating my hat as it was looking a bit tired. The evening was a perfect example of what winter can be - clear, bright and crisply cold. Lovely. I knew that in the morning I was up with the lark to drive down to Lymington to catch the ferry over to the Isle of Wight for a visit to St Francis Junior School in Ventnor, and a clear crisp morning would make the drive down to the New Forest port a delight. The alarm went off at "OH MY GOD IT'S EARLY" O'clock and I was horrified to look out the window and see heavy rain spattering against the pane and the loud moan of a strong wind. I think the word rhymes with "rugger".

The drive down, despite the weather and lots of patches of water gathering on the road, was remarkably easy. It was so nice to see the roads so clear. As I got down to Lymington I was rewarded with the site of a ferry waiting in the port. I popped in to pick up my ticket and was soon on board. My car was warm and inviting, and the thought of staggering up the stairs to the passenger lounge as the ferry tossed around on the wind blasted Solent didn't exactly make the heart beat any faster. So I simply snuggled down in my drivers seat and nodded off.

My journey from Yarmouth to Ventnor was via Freshwater and along the old military road. This was like something out of the Bible - the sky was black as Lemmy's leather jacket, the wind was hammering against the car and frequently jerking it to one side, and the rain was screaming in horizontally. My mood was lifted enormously when Aled Jones (the wonderful replacement for thirsty DJ Sharah (sic) Kennedy) announced that their celebrity "Birthday Wishes" for today, November 11th were going out to Andy Partridge, lead singer and guitarist with XTC! He even announced he was going to play an XTC track to celebrate! Now this would normally get me excited, but I know the BBC Radio playlist for XTC consists of "Making Plans For Nigel", "Senses Working Overtime", and usually something lamentably awful like "Generals and Majors" or "Science Friction". And then he played...wait for it... "The Mayor of Simpleton", one of my all time favourite XTC tracks, and suddenly that Bible black morning didn't seem quite so horrible!

St Francis School in Ventor is an odd place, honestly. It is a mixed Catholic and C of E School. I wondered if they had half the children down one end of the playground brandishing pictures of Pope Benedict XVI and waving Irish tricolours above their heads, whilst the other half marched around in bowler hats and orange sashes screaming about "NO SURRENDARRR!" But they didn't, it was a lovely place. I was warmly welcomed by Emily Ridett who I had previously seen at Haylands School in Ryde on a previous Vectis visit, and was soon set up in the hall. We had a great morning, lots of laughs and some really sparky smart children. We had a break at 11am to mark the two minute silence for Armistice Day. After a lovely lunch we were back in the hall quite early for some fun with the stocks and then a storming, noisy and memorable jousting tournament that went right to the wire. This time the Gents finally broke away and won the final. This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 8 - 7 LADIES

I packed up and was on my way, and was soon at Yarmouth, just as a ferry was coming into port. I thought I'd soon be on board and on my way. But we sat there, and sat there, and sat there. Occasionally a member of staff would walk down the gang plank, scratch their arse, puff on their fag and (probably) blow off, before wandering back on board again. After about 45 minutes we were finally let on board. Again I waited in the car, though my sleep was somewhat disturbed this time by various idiots on board leaving their car alarms on before going up to the passenger deck. As soon as the ferry hit open water outside the port, and the strong winds and waves hit us every single car alarm seemed to go off in unison. My how we laughed. Of course by the time I got back to the mainland it was about 4.30pm and of course the rush hour had started. It took me some time, to fight my way through the heavy traffic and the terrible weather, but I was finally back in Crewkerne. I treated myself to a Chinese meal and am even now, girding my loins for another long drive tomorrow up to Wales.

Haylands School, Ryde, Isle of Wight

Good King Hal gets all arty. This is what the exit from Lymington Harbour looks like at just after 5am. Trust me on this. (But it is a nice photo, isn't it?)

Back to Haylands School in Ryde on the Isle of Wight yesterday, exactly a year after my last visit. I had noticed that from checking on-line with the ferry from Lymington to Yarmouth how the prices went up as time got later, so in a fit of some kind of dementia I had booked myself on the 5.10am ferry. What the heck was I thinking? This meant I had to get up at 3am in Crewkerne and be on my way by 3.30am. However, I made it on time and soon me, my car, one other car and about four lorries were slowly slipping out into the dark waters of the Solent. I went up on to what they laughably called a "Sun Deck" and watched the early morning sunrise. I took a few piccies, as you can see above, and also got waved at by a yacht full of what appeared to be young ladies sailing in to Lymington in the weak morning light. I say appeared to be young ladies as they were all clothed head to foot in what appeared to be full survival suits, so they might have been jolly friendly chaps instead. I wandered back inside and sat looking out of the windows as Yarmouth drew closer.

The two cars were let off the ferry after one lorry, but it was a lorry I ended up following all the way to Newport. My sat nav then had a bit of a "mental-mental-chicken-oriental" moment in Newport and for some reason known only to herself, took me down various tiny back roads and housing estates before we emerged once more on the road to Ryde. I found the school down it's tiny side lane, but found it was a good hour and half before the place was likely to burst into life. I needed some petrol, well, to be honest the car did, but I digress. I soon found myself driving into the car park of possibly the largest Tesco store I have ever seen. This place looked like an aircraft hanger. I kept expecting the whole front to swing open and see the prow of the R101 nudge out. I chose to go to Tesco's as I knew their fuel would be the cheapest around (tight-fisted swine that I am), but I had been shocked by just how expensive the fuel on the island was. Anyway, fully fuelled up I headed back to the school and was soon inside and setting up for the day.

Just like last year it was great fun. A really excitable and bright group of year 3's, some charming lovely teachers and teaching assistants, and just a pleasurable day all round. It was also the first time really in 2010 where I felt truly hot and uncomfortable in the costume - must mean summer is a-coming! After a nice lunch and a chat with a really charming lady who's husband works for the National Trust (I urged them both to visit Barrington Court when they get a chance), it was back for the afternoon session. Again much laughter and fun, and then a truly epic jousting tournament, which once more the gents won! This now makes our year-long score very interesting indeed.

GENTLEMEN 19 - 24 LADIES

The next chance the ladies get to pull away again is on May 4th at West Pennard School near Glastonbury.

I drove back to the ferry at Yarmouth and was soon back on the mainland. A fairly bother free trip back to Somerset and I was at home. In the evening I think I was supposed to meet Matthew Applegate at the Duke of York in Shepton Beauchamp for a drink. So I went over. Matthew never appeared, so I wondered if I had got the wrong pub. Perhaps we were going to meet at the Royal Oak in Barrington. I drove over there. Nope, he wasn't there either. I went home, pausing only to enjoy the wonderful friendliness and ambiance of Peejays Fish Bar in Crewkerne. And so to bed. In the words of Jane Austen "blimey, Mr Darcey, my dogs are barking and I am totally knackered." That was a long day.

Brighstone, Isle of Wight

Good King Hal attempting to swap Barrington Court for a jar of chutney, while Matthew Applegate's wife Sue does a very good Tommy Cooper impression. Taken during Chutfest.

Vectis! Proud proud Vectis! Such memories! Childhood holidays in Lake, endless drizzle, kite flying on Culver Cliff and, more recently, staggering back to the mainland after slightly over-doing it in the Yacht Haven during Skandia sponsored Cowes week. Back in April I did my first school visit to the Isle of Wight when I visited Haylands Junior in Ryde. The deputy head that day, a very nice young blond lady, has since moved and is now one of the youngest head teachers in England and is at Brighstone School near Freshwater on the west side of the island. She had recommended me to the teachers of this new school, hence my booking.

I had booked my ferry on-line before half term (which was very pleasant by the way, including various long drives up and down the M4 to Wales and Essex and back again) and was due to catch the 6.45am sailing from Lymington to Yarmouth. I left Crewkerne at about 5.20am but my sat nav said I only had a slim chance of making it to the ferry on time. I did well though and soon after passing Dorchester I was ahead of time, only to be stuck behind a succession of incredibly slow drivers, but I still felt confident I would make it. Wrong! I arrived at the ferry terminal just in time to see my ship slowly easing out into the Solent. I enquired in the office as to the time of the next sailing - 7.45am was the answer. It would have been a lot sooner but they had just that week changed their timetable to the winter sailings, so they don't go as regularly (they should eat more All Bran). I think the expression rhymes with brass poles. I was eventually on the ferry and enjoying the bright morning sunshine as we slid out of the harbour and across the bottle green waters of the Solent.

I soon found the school after a short drive down the island. It was a delightful village school and I was warmly welcomed by the lovely and friendly teachers. I would be talking to a group consisting of years 2, 3 and 4, but in total, less than 50 children. They started off quietly, but by heck, when they got going there was no stopping them. They loved it, laughing, joking and really getting involved. It was a pleasure to talk to them. After a splendid lunch of roast pork followed by apple strudel, I was soon back in the hall for the afternoon session. More laughs, more riotous fun, especially when talking about the stocks. I asked the children what did they think the Tudors would throw at someone in the stocks - one of the answers was "a donkey" which for some reason left me helpless with laughter at the thought of it. The year one's came in to watch the final jousting tournament and it was one of the best for years. The final went to two tie-breakers before the gentlemen finally snatched victory. This now leaves the year long score as:

GENTLEMEN 4 - 8 LADIES

The results are looking more interesting now.

The journey back was dreadful. When I arrived at Yarmouth there was a ferry waiting at the dockside. About half an hour later the ferry was still waiting at the dockside, and so were all of us travellers. Finally we got on board. It was a fairly choppy crossing but we didn't dock in Lymington until nearly smack on 5pm. The traffic home was terrible and I didn't get into the flat at Crewkerne until near 7pm. Very tired. Watched CSKA Moscow very nearly beat the crap out of Manchester United, which was fun - if only they could have hung on. And then to bed, where I slept like a large piece of timber cut from a tree trunk.

Next appearance is on Friday at Canterbury Cathedral in Kent.

A Ticket to Ryde

I had never been abroad to be Henry VIIIth before. Someone said to me that the Isle of Wight wasn't officially abroad - I just pointed out that it was very difficult to walk there. I was booked to appear at Haylands School on the outskirts of Ryde on the Island through a Mr Chubb. He had seen me in action as Henry VIIIth some years ago when he worked at Brookside School in Street near Glastonbury. However, he is a Vectis man, born and bred, and had moved back to the island a couple of years ago - but he remembered me, and had consequently booked me for Haylands School.

I knew it was going to be a long journey down to the Isle of Wight, but it was also a long way down to Lymington where the ferry was. I caught the 6.15am ferry and it was lovely to sit on the viewing deck and cast my eyes over the steely grey waters of the Solent. The sun was smudging it's way to the horizon to my left, making vast silhouettes of the petro-chemical works at Fawley. The orange and pink colours of the delicate sunrise flecked the small waves as we slowly steamed out of the harbour. It was a crisp clear brilliant morning and my reverie was only partially ruined by some slack jawed neanderthal suddenly deciding to play the very loud fruit machine just behind where I was sitting. It was obviously a "Carry on" themed machine as there were lots of Barbara Windsor giggles, Sid James guffaws, Swanee whistle whoops and "ber-doing!!!!!" sound effects that obviously appealed to the mouth breather as he played the damn thing for what seemed a lifetime. We soon docked at Yarmouth and I was on my way. You can't go very far anywhere on the island and I was soon approaching Ryde at a rate of knots. I found the school but, as it was still only about 7.30am, the place was still fully locked up. I had just parked up outside expecting a long wait when a car arrived and the driver got out and unlocked the gates before driving in. I followed. It was the head teacher and he couldn't have been more helpful and charming. Haylands School is a very modern welcoming building with excellent facilities. It has the air of a very happy contented school. I was with the year 3 group for the day and was told by Mr Chubb that they were a very excitable group - and boy they were!

We had a lovely day - tremendous group of children, lovely friendly teachers and assistants, and a very nice lunch to boot. Lots of fun and laughter with the children who also showed a very high level of Tudor knowledge. For the final jousting tournament in the hall we invited the year 4 group to come in and join the spectators which certainly added to the atmosphere in the hall. We nearly blew the roof off the place! A thrilling joust final was won by a very competent ladies team, and we then had a fun teachers race which Mr Chubb's team won!

It was a long drive home and a slow ferry, with intermittent heavy rain and then dazzling sunshine. I didn't get back to Crewkerne until about 7.20pm - I was very tired, but happy. It had been a brilliant day.

Friday I am at Wooton Bassett in Wiltshire during the day and then have a mad dash over to Hever Castle in Kent for my first ever work there in the evening. Smashing!