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).

Return to Knightwood

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

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

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

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

GENTLEMEN 5 - 6 LADIES

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

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

Knightwood School, Chandlers Ford

Good King Hal during an earthquake at Leeds Castle.

This is the tale of the oft postponed show. I was first due for another re-appearance at the lovely Knightwood School in Chandlers Ford in Hampshire back on the 19th November last year. But then I was asked by the BBC to appear at Children in Need at Leeds Castle on that evening. Getting there from Chandlers Ford would have proved difficult, so I asked the school very nicely if I could postpone the show, which they kindly agreed to. The new date was the 3rd December. Come the 3rd December and the weather is doing a very passable impression of Siberia. Winds howl, snow falls and brass monkeys range the countryside screaming in agony. I end up snowed in at my wife's house in Essex, and can't get down to Chandlers Ford, so the show is postponed again. And here we find ourselves in January 2011 and I am finally going to the school on the morning of Wednesday 12th.

Now getting to the school in Chandlers Ford is like playing a game of chance - leave too late and you get caught up in horrendous traffic virtually gridlocked round the back roads of Romsey and Chandlers Ford - leave too early and you sail through unhindered by any other traffic and arrive embarrassingly early. I arrived in still semi darkness, so I think you can guess I left a wee bit too early. I was once more greeted by one of the friendliest caretakers in the business. This man and his counterpart at Blean School near Canterbury are my two favourites. Friendly, chatty and with all the gossip you need to know about any school you are going to work in! The teachers were got up in some marvellous Tudor costumes and also most of the children were decked out in great outfits.

We had a great morning, which proved to be the first show I had done in a long time without doing the designing a coat of arms activity. This has been slowly dying a death over the past few weeks, and it just seems to have reached it's natural end. So I ploughed on without it and all seemed to go very well. We had to end early in the main hall as the dinner ladies needed to get in and set up, so we finished the session in the smaller music room, but fun was seem to be had by all. I had a nice roast beef dinner lunch, and then promptly nodded off in the cosy staff room. How embarrassing. The afternoon was a fun loud and silly experience, with lots of laughs from everyone, and culminated in an invigorating jousting finale that saw a very confident Gents team blow their chances by their second rider spilling all the quoits he had already collected. This opened the door and a very good Ladies team strolled through to a comfortable victory. This now brings the score to:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 12 LADIES

The ladies are stretching away with it now. Come on lads! My next Henry was due to be Monday down at Blundells Prep in Tiverton, but I have to go back to Essex for a funeral and so the show has been postponed for a week. Watch out for the Wassail at Barrington Court as well.

Frigthfully inclement weather

Good King Hal, second from right at the back clutching a Union Jack, shortly after arriving in Basildon after a nearly six hour drive from Somerset. He was horrified to discover Amundsen had got there first, but was delighted to see that some of the locals had already had the runners off his sleigh.

My last two Henry shows of the year were due at Nelson Primary School in East Ham, and the following day at Knightwood School in Chandlers Ford in Hampshire. This was all as long as the weather behaved itself. Well, unless you have been living in a cave, or a snow drift (more likely) then you will be aware of what the weather has been like.

I travelled up from Somerset on the Tuesday and all was going swimmingly until I reached the south east. As I got east of the M23 turn off on the M25 the snow began to appear, and it got steadily heavier and heavier as I approached the Dartford crossing. The final stretch was done at a mere walking pace as the authorities had closed off the M20 exit and there was a massive snarl up around that junction. I finally got to the tunnel and sailed through! Great, I thought, I will be at Amanda and James' place within about 15 minutes. WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

The exit to the A13 was gridlocked. People fighting to get onto the M25 was snaking back across the exit and locking solid the roundabout. Idiots chopped and changed lanes as though this would do them any good. One particular twit in a crap coloured Ford Ka changed lanes about eight times, and each time I let him in with a little cheery wave which he virtually ignored. When he asked to change lanes AGAIN, I am afraid this time I refused to let him and was rewarded with a cheerful hand gesture which I was more than happy to return. We ended up sitting motionless on the roundabout down onto the A13 for about 45 minutes as the snow piled up around us. My, this was fun. As things slowly started to move I noticed that two huge lorries either side of me were jockeying to push in front of me, even though there was no space. It is times like this that I am glad I have a very loud voice. I wound down both windows, sucked in a huge lungful of air, and allowed the previous four hours worth of frustration pour out as I yelled:

"IF EITHER OF YOU TWO CHAPS IN THE LORRIES ARE CONSIDERING PUSHING IN FRONT OF ME, I SHALL FIND OUT WHERE YOU FELLOWS LIVE AND WILL KILL YOU!" I hasten to add I did not use the words "chaps" and "fellows". The words I did use did begin with the letters C and F, but I shall leave that to your imagination. But it worked, both the lorries allowed me through and one even flashed his lights cheerily at me and shouted something about me being a "fellow chap". I reciprocated his affections once more. But I got to Amanda's place.

Well, to cut a long Captain Scott type diary short (though there is less self sacrifice, fetid penguin blubber and frostbite involved) both of my days at the schools were called off. There was just no way I could get to either of them with the roads the state they were in. I instead kept myself amused by frequently getting thrashed by my son at Mario Kart on the Wii console.

So no more Henry's now until next January, however I start down at Leeds Castle on the 10th December as dear old Father Christmas. All this and I have very nearly finished my Christmas shopping which is surely a record.

Broughton Astley, Leicestershire

Broughton Astley (left), Rick's older brother, a mere nano-second before being run-over by bloody great car. Rick contacted him in hospital and told him he was never gonna give him up, never gonna let him down, never gonna run around and desert him, which I am sure you will agree was of great comfort to him as they tried to erase the tyre tracks from his trousers.

Leicestershire. What did I know about Leicestershire? It's cheese was red, David Gower used to play cricket for it, the Battle of Bosworth Field raged in it, and the Download Festival frequently rages at Donnington - which is in Leicestershire. Here endeth the lesson.

I had been booked to appear at the Orchard School in Broughton Astley, a village in Leicestershire which sounds remarkably like Rick Astley's ne'er do well older brother. I'd been recommended as one of the teachers at the Orchard has a sister who works down at dear old Knightwood School in Chandlers Ford in Hampshire and had very kindly informed her sister how good I was. How kind! My original plan was to travel up on the Monday afternoon, stay overnight at a Travelodge and then pootle up to the school fresh, awake and not knackered from a long drive. Wrong! I had looked up Travelodge on-line to see if their much trumpeted "bed for £19" offer was still going strong. Apparently not. As it is nearly half term the general price for a room (and remember this is just a room -nothing else) seemed to be about £55+. Not my idea of fun, so I decided to get up very early and drive up to Leicestershire and back in the day. Also not my idea of fun, but cheaper. Therefore I was up at 3am, in the car by 3.45am and soon rocketing my way up the M5. The much discussed "warning light" which had mysteriously turned itself off at the weekend, suddenly re-appeared approximately 75 miles up the road. But what the heck could I do, apart from press on. So I pressed it on, and it looked lovely. I arrived at Broughton Astley at about 6.45am, bought some petrol for the return journey, a newspaper, and some brekkie and parked up in a side road. After reading all about England's abysmal match against Mexico (How on Earth did we manage to win 3-1? Is this a good sign for the forthcoming World Cup? Can we really play that badly and STILL win matches?) I then had a little snooze in the car, which was just what I needed. Actually, what I really need is a night out with Lisa Rogers, but that just isn't going to happen is it?

Arriving at the school I was warmly welcomed by some really cool teachers. Such nice people! And all dressed up to the nines as terrific Tudor wenches - who needs Lisa Rogers? (ME! ME!) One of the ladies had a fabulous home made costume on dressed as a Tudor Queen. Her brilliant billowing dress allowed her to simply glide across the floor. I told her she looked like a Dalek, which was meant as a compliment. She rather ruined the illusion of Tudor grace with graphic details of her struggles to use the disabled loo, the only toilet large enough to welcome her and her hooped skirts.

Well we had a fabulous day - this is such a lovely school I cannot even begin to tell you how wonderful it is. The children were brilliant, hilarious, sparky, eager to learn and all of them in fantastic Tudor costumes as well. They had just been on a recent visit to the site of the Battle of Bosworth Field and were therefore already hugely enthusiastic about Tudor history before I turned up. The morning seemed to just shoot past - lots of laughs were had, especially by the teachers and classroom assistants! After a gorgeous lunch of roast pork, I was back on again and the whole day culminated in a really pulsating jousting tournament. The two gents teams who contested their semi final were, not trying to sound rude, truly awful. The two ladies teams were brilliant, so it was really obvious where this final was going to go. Yes, the gents roared to a great victory, coming from behind to pip the ladies on the line! See!? What the heck do I know! This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 21 - 26 LADIES

On leaving the school at the end of the day I managed to drop my stocks and break them, which did cause me to mutter a few words of choice Anglo-Saxon language. The drive home was remarkably easy and despite not leaving Rick Astley...sorry, BROUGHTON Astley until about 3.30pm I was pulling up outside my place in Crewkerne as the 6pm news came on the radio. Wonderful. So was going to bed that evening. Even though something was missing - LISA ROGERS! Down boy!

I next have a meeting with Matthew Applegate at Barrington Court (it involves a pub so there might not be THAT much work discussed), then next week I am at Leeds Castle for a Jousting Tournament from the Tuesday to the Sunday. Come and say hello! Especially if you are Lisa Rogers.

Knightwood Junior, Chandlers Ford

Henry VIII going on the Mother and Father of all camping trips. (Sponsored by Millets).

Back to one of my favourite schools today! Knightwood Junior at Chandlers Ford near Southampton is a lovely school and, architecturally, quite stunning. The main hall has high swooping roofs that soar up to a dizzying height. They remind me of the sort of hurricane-proof buildings you see in places in parts of the Caribbean, but I think hurricane activities are quite rare in Hampshire. Anyway, on previous visits to this school I have been caught up in terrible traffic in the last few miles, so I left about 10 minutes earlier than normal. It was amazing - I sailed through, to the extent that I arrived at the school at just before 8am. I was greeted by Lee the caretaker, one of the nicest men you could ever want to meet. I was soon set up in the hall and ready to go. They were a lovely group of children this year if a little bit quieter than previous visits. One moment of delight was when I was asking the group what the name of Henry VIII's first born son was (Henry is the answer if you didn't know - the child died very early on) and a little girl in the front row raised her hand and told me very confidently that the child was called Theo. Theo? What the...? Anyway...

A nice salad lunch was followed by an early start to the afternoon session as I had to be out of the hall by 2.30pm for an assembly. The jousting was one of the loudest and most exciting I have seen in many a year. The crowd watching were all on their feet screaming, clapping, shouting and jumping up and down. It was astoundingly loud and very exciting and the ladies romped away with another victory, to make the score now:

GENTLEMEN 2 - 7 LADIES

Quite unbelievable. I am off to Wales briefly this weekend to see my parents, but on Monday I am back on the road again with another show at a new school in Aylesbury.

St Paul's Junior, Shepton Mallet

Good King Hal, just checking that Katherine Parr is definitely dead.

Shepton Mallet? Sounds like Timmy Mallet's camp older brother. This was a nice return visit to a really lovely school. St Paul's in Shepton Mallet is virtually right in the centre of the town, but still has the feel of a leafy suburban school with plenty of greenery and a lovely old building it is housed in. I arrived virtually spot on 8am and, despite efforts to get in through the front door, I was eventually granted access via the side door by one of the teachers who was arriving. It was to be two schools combined today - year four from St Paul's, plus a group of year three's from St Aldhelm's School from Doulting near Shepton. The morning session was lively and fun, the kids were very sparky and excitable and seemed to really get into the whole Tudor fun day scenario.

I spent the lunch break chatting to a group of young ladies who had seen my show at St Paul's two years previously and were now in their last year at the school. The afternoon was wild and lively and ended with a really good jousting contest. We had a small tournament first for the children from St Aldhelm's, which the ladies won, but the main tournament was a much louder affair and ended with... a win for... The Gentlemen again! Two in two days! This makes the score a now slightly more respectable:

GENTLEMEN 2 - 6 LADIES

Let's see how it pans out tomorrow at Knightwood School in Chandler's Ford. It was a really lovely day at St Paul's today and a big thank you to Mrs Kennedy who organised the whole thing. What a nice lady she is!