Blundell's Prep & Curtley Ambrose

Good King Hal singing "I'm puttin' on my top hat. Tyin' up my white tie. Brushin' off my tails!" Unfortunately in the entire song there is no mention of any trousers and consequently he was arrested for indecent exposure.

I was due to visit Blundell's Prep School in Tiverton last Monday, but due to family committments I had to postpone the show for a week. Therefore I was back bright and early on the morning of the 24th. My sat nav has this almost obscene dislike of going the most direct route to some addresses. Blundell's Prep is a prime example. As soon as I come off the M5 at junction 27 she goes beserk, desperately trying to get me to drive down tiny back roads, whereas I know that if I stay on the big main roads I will be there before you know it. I ignored her yesterday and arrived embarrassingly early at this lovely school.

I sat in the staff room sipping tea until my contact arrived - the gloriously named Stef Jeffs. She has been an ever present since I first went to this school about six years ago and it was known at St Aubyn's. Well she might be departing soon as she is contemplating going to theological college - good luck to her, I say, but it won't be the same without her. Similarly on their way out is the head of Blundell's Prep, Nick Folland, former Somerset batsman and a font of cricket knowledge. I chatted with him during the morning break. I asked him who was the most difficult bowler he ever faced - he couldn't name a particular one, but cited, among others Malcolm Marshall, Curtley Ambrose, Michael Holding, Patrick Patterson, Ole Mortensen et al. It made me facing Jim Hawes whilst batting for the Hoop Cricket Club a bit tame to be honest. But Nick has been an ever present again since I began at Blundell's and it really won't be the same without him, but I wish him well at his new position at a school in Chepstow.

The day itself was fun, but hardwork! Being a private school the morning session ran from 9am to 1pm with only a 15 minute break at about 11am. But then conversely, after lunch I had only just over an hour to do before closing down and heading for home. The children were fantastic and laughed a lot at the silly bits, but some of them also showed some brilliantly aquired Tudor knowledge. I also kept jokingly flirting with one of the young TA's, much to her giggling, red faced embarrassment! The final joust was a belter with, yet AGAIN, the ladies storming to an impressive victory. This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 13 LADIES

The ladies are really now starting to pull away again. My next two Tudor shows are in the South East this week, firstly back at Tolleshunt D'Arcy near Maldon in Essex on the 26th, and then at Ware in Hertfordshire on the 27th. This should bring about lots of laughs - where are you? Ware. Yes, where are you? Etc etc. This could rival Abbott and Costello's "Who's On First" routine in the years to come.

But probably not.

Wassail and Wii...

The M25 on the evening of the 17th January. Alastair Stewart kept going on about keeping an eye on the "IDIOT" in the pram launching red turtle shells at a monkey on a motorbike, before being dragged away frothing at the mouth by ITV executives.

Matthew Applegate had for a while been stating that 2011's Barrington Court Wassail was not going to be like previous ones. And he was right. It didn't help that the 17th January this year fell on a Monday, it also didn't help that the main man for the previous few years (one of those people who knows all about Wassailing) - a chap called Dick (stop it) wasn't available this year. We were also going to have to do without the Samba drumming band that had become a staple part of previous years - I guess the idea of pounding out Brazilian rhythms in the freezing pitch dark of a west country orchard in occasional pouring rain wasn't their idea of fun or complete job satisfaction. Fools. And we also finally had to make do without Rachel Brewer, the frankly insane, but infectiously enthusiastic pommelier at Barrington Court. She and her other half, Anthony, had decided to go for a six week holiday in Vietnam instead. What is wrong with these people? I wasn't helping much either as I had to be in Essex early on the Tuesday morning so couldn't stay for very long. I was there to read my usual poem, shout at the crowd and then...er... sort of clear off, really. So I said hello to all the usual group of lovely people at Barrington, even threatening Alf Trott with a kiss, snaffled a quick burger, read my poem and then slipped off into the night and my long drive up to Essex.

My wife Amanda was busy on the Tuesday attending a family funeral, so my job was to look after my lovely son James for the day. I took him to school first thing, then had to wait in for a carpet fitter to come and measure up for a job. After that I hit the bright lights and razzmatazz that is Basildon shopping centre. After exhausting the entertainment possibilities of the "99p Shop" and Asda, I decided to try and find some lunch. Forgoing the gastric rigours of Nando's, Taco Bell and the obligatory McDonalnds, I ended up at Ned's Noodle Bar, which was absolutely gorgeous! Proper pukka tasting oriental food served in one of those groovy cardboard cartons always seen in American movies to denote a Chinese meal is being eaten. After picking James up from school we went back to Amanda's house where my son proceeded to beat the crap out of me on Mario Kart on the Nintendo Wii. Now if you have never played Mario Kart let me describe it to you. It is like the old kids cartoon "The Wacky Races" only crossed with certain scenes from Mad Max 2. You drive along in a customisable car that can resemble anything from a fish to a Bugatti Veyron, fighting off other cartoon characters in their bizarre cars who attempt to slow you down by either simply pushing you off the road, or by blowing you to pieces with carefully aimed bombs, deadly turtle shells and even with a flying squid that sprays ink on your windscreen so you can't see where the hell you're going. James and I for some time had been using a character I had created on the Wii (you can create your own little cartoon of yourself.... I know you're all out there, I can hear you snoring), and we had pretty much opened up all the games - the more races you win, the more games you can access and more characters and cars become available. But I know James quite liked using his own character he'd created. Well, while he was at school, dear benevolent, kindly Daddy decided to do some of the easier races for him, pick up some wins and open the new cars and characters he desired. The difficulty of the races depend on the engine capacity you choose at the start. A 150cc race for instance is generally the hardest and is best left for hardened gamers and experienced drivers. 50cc is the easiest and is best for youngsters, beginners and George Osborne. James' character had not really opened many of the 100cc races so during the day I thought I'd have a bash at that for him. You race in four "Grand Prix" and an overall winner of those four races gets presented with a cup and, usually, the chance to open up new games, characters and cars. I set about my task with gusto. First set of four Grand Prix on the 100cc setting. I won the first two races at a canter and was feeling very confident. In the third race, due to constantly falling off a giant underground mine/roller coaster (don't ask) I came last by about 20 miles, but I was still second in the overall standings going into the last race. I led from the start and slowly drew away from the main pelaton. I drove within myself and tried not to take too many risks. I rounded the final bend - I could see the chequered flag! I could see it! I could almost touch it! Images flashed up in my mind of a rosy cheeked James, with big cartoon eyes, looking lovingly at me and saying "Daddy! You opened all these new characters and games just for ME?" as birds chirruped, and cherubim and seraphim's circled brightly above us and showered us with glitter and pearls on the world below. As I rounded the final bend I got hit by three bombs, two turtle shells, a squid and was then flattened by a giant car so that you could have slid my vehicle under the garage door. I finished 9th. Now we have been trying to teach James not to lose his rag when he can't win a game on either the Wii or his DS console. I forgot all of the training we have been giving James, and in that moment I think the cat learnt some new choice swear words. It was enough to make you want to chew your own foot off. After picking James up from school I couldn't face explaining to him that I hadn't managed to open a single other race, character or car, and took the feeble way out by taking him to Pizza Hut.

Well, I should be able to brush up my Mario Kart skills again next week. After Monday in Tiverton the rest of the week is in Essex and Hertfordshire so I will once again get a chance to have some lovely cuddles with my gorgeous son. Check here for the latest scores from the next Grand Prix, but if you see me sliding the flattened smoking wreckage of my car under the garage door, for Christ's sake don't ask me how the race went.

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.

Coalway Junior, Coleford

Good King Hal being inflated in front of Leeds Castle and with a bear behind. Ooh-er!

Sometimes you see interviews with actors, or comedians or even sportsmen, where they talk about being "in the zone". Now this often sounds like pretentious twaddle at it's most bumptious, but occasionally, very occasionally I get a brief glimpse of what they are talking about. Being "in the zone" basically means you are doing everything right without even really having the think about it. Which is about as far as you could possibly get if you are an Australian cricketer recently. Sorry, I really mustn't do that. Gloating is not a good thing to do - but it is tremendous fun. No, going back to being "in the zone", it is like when you are playing cricket and you hit a ball right off the sweet spot of the bat - you don't really feel a thing, all you are aware of is that you timed it perfectly, used very little effort and the ball is now rocketing away towards the boundary. Counter that when you slightly miss-time a shot and catch the ball on the toe of the bat....OW! Your arms will feel like you are having electric shocks passed through them for a few minutes to come! From doing Henry shows so often for the past 6+ years I know my patter and routine virtually backwards, but sometimes, like today, it just flows so much more easily. The jokes in it are timed to perfection, the audience gets it and goes with it and everything just dovetails so perfectly. Days like today don't come around very often, so you enjoy them while you can.

Coalway Junior is a delightful school in the small town of Coleford near Cinderford in the Forest of Dean. This was my seventh annual visit to this school and was far and away my best visit here and most enjoyable. It was a group of about 60 children, all charming, funny and a pleasure to talk to. The teachers were brilliant as well, joining in the silliness in the show with gusto and even chucking in a few heckles along the way, which made it all the more funny. Everything worked like a charm today. The jousting was amazingly exciting and would have been won by a very good Gents team if only their second rider forgot to keep his lance upright and managed to drop all the quoits he'd already picked up. This allowed the ladies to scuttle through and sneak an unexpected victory. This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 11 LADIES

So the ladies start to pull away. The drive back was OK, but through some fairly Biblical weather - howling winds and whipping rain.

Oh, and you know I was getting all celebratory the other week when the BBC finally put Sarah Kennedy out of our misery? Trust me for being cocky. Guess who they are going to replace her with? Vanessa Feltz. Early mornings are going to seem a lot darker all of a sudden... Next Henry show is the much postponed and delayed visit back to Knightwood Primary in Chandlers Ford in Hampshire on Wednesday.

New Town, Taunton

Sue Applegate using "The Force" on Good King Hal, in The Library at Barrington Court, with the lead piping.

Isn't it dark on January mornings? It's hardly worth opening your eyes to be honest. It was an early start for me, made slightly more unpleasant for me as I sat up the night before to watch the final denouement of the Ashes series. As a long term sufferer from the disease known as England Cricket Fan, I have endured the previous 20+ years of utter dominance by the Australian cricket team. They have wheeled out players of the calibre and quality of Shane Warne, Glenn McGrath, Justin Langer, Steve Waugh, Craig McDermott etc., while we had Devon Malcolm, Ian Salisbury and Graeme Hick. God help us. So to not only go and beat Australia in their own back yard, but to do it so dominantly and in such an emphatic manner was wonderful. We had already retained the Ashes but had to be sure of not losing the final test to actually win the series outright. The dawning of the final day in Sydney it was obvious we were going to win, with only three Australian wickets to be taken for this famous victory. Knowing what was coming I decided to celebrate by putting some champagne in the fridge for that final moment. First, as they do, the Aussies decided to make a fight of it, then it started raining - surely we won't be denied our moment by inclement weather in Australia of all places? But then the sun came out, and whilst sitting in cold dark England, at about 1am in the morning, Chris Tremlett clean bowled Mike Beer off an inside edge, and England had won the final test and the series 3-1. I popped the champagne, had a glass full and then headed for bed as I knew I had to be up early to get to North Town School in Taunton.

North Town is such a fantastic school, it really is. The children are a delight, friendly bright and intelligent with just enough charming cheek to keep a smile on your face for the majority of the day. It was great to see my old friend Viv Farrow there again today, and she was on fine form. Lots of laughs and jokes aplenty. The group was of about 60 children from year 4. They had only really started their Tudor topic on the previous day, but still showed some really good knowledge at this early stage. We had lots of real belly laughs in the morning session with this lively good natured group. Lunch was particularly nice as it was partaken in the pub over the road from the school called, rather appropriately, The King's Head. I sat with a group of the teachers with a big basket of chips and chicken breast, and had a lovely time! It seemed a shame to have to go back to the school to be honest. The temptation just to purchase a large bottle of red wine and settle in at the pub for the day was incredibly strong. But back we went anyway.

The afternoon was another great one and culminated in a fantastic jousting tournament that the gents team led from start to almost finish, but they were pipped at the post by a resolute ladies team which now makes our year long score:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 10 LADIES

The ladies go into the lead in our on going score for the first time this year. Great stuff! On finishing the show I was packing everything away and took my visitor's pass back to the office when I bumped into Polly, the gorgeous delightful lady from County Donegal who I have come across at this school before. She looked as fabulous as ever and we had a little chat before I was back in the car and on my way. The rest of the teachers obviously read this blog a lot and have noted my comments about Polly before as nearly all of them kept saying "have you seen Polly yet this year?", and then grinning before virtually nudging me in the ribs and winking. How dare they! It's an innocent chaste relationship. She is innocent and I can't chase her. Perfect really.

I have another return visit on Monday, going back to Coalway Junior School in Coleford in Gloucestershire. This will be my sixth visit to this school - six! That's almost as many runs that Ricky "Thicky" Ponting got in the Ashes series. Splendid.

Sherborne

Good King Hal about to launch into an eye-watering version of "Oh For The Wings of a Dove", followed by an equally moving rendition of "Love Your Money" by Daisy Chainsaw.

I had been approached by Sherborne Probus Club to give a talk for them. This was originally planned for July, however before Christmas I was asked to move it to an alternative date. One of the dates mooted was 5th January, so here I was trundling down the A30 to Sherborne and their meeting at the RAF Slessor Club in Long Street. Sherborne is such a lovely little town, very quaint and charming. The meeting with the Probus chaps was very pleasant, they were a nice group of older gents, about 30 of them and they seemed to appreciate the talk very much.

Probus is a club for retired or semi retired professional businessmen - hence Probus - Pro Bus? You see what they did there? It also has strong links to Rotary Clubs. The talk went really well and the gents were very generous with their laughs, applause and I was even presented with a souvenir pen for my talk. After getting changed back into my civvies I was invited to partake in a drink at the bar of the RAF club which was very nice. I was then invited to join the gents for some lunch which was to be taken at the Griffin Inn at Nether Compton just outside Yeovil. Nether Compton is where a lot of my family originate from so I know the place very well. We had a lovely lunch with a choice of fish pie (YUK!) or lasagna (YUM!) followed by a multiple choice of different puddings. I went for the chocolate and raspberry torte which was stunning.

All of the Probus group were friendly, generous and a pleasure to be with. Thank you Gents! I stopped off in Yeovil on the way back as I had some book vouchers for Waterstones. I treated myself to a Charlie Brooker book which I am sure will have me laughing like a drain for the next few nights.

I am now gearing myself to watch a bit more of England kicking Australia's teeth in on the cricket pitch. What a delight it has been. I heard a great joke about the Ashes - there is a phone call to the Australian dressing room in Sydney. One of the players answers. It is a caller from England calling long distance and hoping to wish new Aussie Captain Michael Clarke good luck for the match. He is informed Clarke has just gone out to bat, to which the long distance caller says "don't worry, I'll hang on".

Back to being Henry in schools again this Friday with a return visit to North Town Junior in Taunton. See you there!

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.

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.

More Mistletoe Fayre Funne...

Meanwhile, in an all night gas-lit pecan-nut crushing emporium on Streatham High Road, octogenarian Algerian wash board wrangler, Attila Corn-Plaster, heir to the fortune of Barbara Cartland's cartographer and first solo pianist to plummet off Niagara Falls and not live, has discovered the Nazi blue prints to Ethel Merman's diving bell fixated Persian cat-tweaking mobile laundry service on an S2 bus calling at Rokeby Street, West Ham Lane, Whalebone Lane and the Portway. A cold front has swept in from the arctic bringing war, death, pestilence and famine to western Yeovil. Police describe the situation as normal for a Sunday. And now here's Carole Kirkwood with the weather. Carole?

The second day of the annual Barrington Court Mistletoe Fayre dawned colder than yesterday, but there was certainly less snow around. As I arrived this morning it was very pleasing today to see that the car park was full to bursting, this meant we were due more people than the slightly disappointing turn out we had on Saturday. I was right, but it also meant that I had trouble finding somewhere to park. Luckily I ran into Matthew Applegate (not literally of course) and he allowed me to park in the private spaces tucked away around the back of Barrington Court and for use by the people who live in the apartments in Strode House.

It was a great turn out today, and some very nice stalls. I myself purchased some wonderful home cured smoked bacon and some pork and leek sausages. Lovely! I also got to meet some wonderful people all of whom seemed to be in very high spirits - apart from one. There was a heavily bearded man walking around pushing a lady in a wheel chair, who I assumed to be his mother. I chatted to the lady in the wheel chair, who had a face like a smacked arse, and then after speaking to the man with the beard I realised why she was so miserable. The first thing this Rasputin look-a-like said to me was "I heard a programme about you on Radio 4 the other night..." This made me nervous straight away as I find Radio 4 something of an enigma. I call it Radio Smug as it seems to have this air of being a closed club that only some people are allowed into. And I intend to stay that way until Kirsty Young allows me to be on "Desert Island Discs". Anyway, I am getting off the point. The Rasputin look-a-like continued and said "It was all about the disgraceful way you treated Catherine of Aragon." Before I could get a chance to say anything, he went up a gear. "You were a MONSTER to that poor girl. A MONSTER!" Foam was beginning to form around the sides of his mouth. At this point I tried to point out to him that I was in fact an actor (obviously a bloody good one to get this sort of reaction), but he carried on chuntering away before wheeling his long suffering facially downcast mother into another room. Thank God that was over. About an hour later I bumped into him again, this time on his own. On each day of the Fayre we had a Mummer's play which was performed in one of the upstairs rooms. Rasputin wanted to know if there was access to the upstairs of Barrington Court for disabled people. I told him there was only a lift in Strode House and therefore not any real possibility of getting his joy-free Mother and her wheel chair up to see the show. He simply hissed the word "pathetic..." and stomped off towards the toilets, preferably to fall into a blocked urinal and choke to death on a bleach cake. And would serve him right. But this miserable git aside, everything was good today. And so was the cricket.

Next week I am back to Nelson Junior School in East Ham for my 4th visit! Should be a good one. South East, here I come.

Three Days...

"Look at the size of that dibber!" exclaimed Good King Hal. He was immediately arrested.

This was a busy few days for me. It began on Thursday morning when I was due back on Emma Britton's Show on BBC Somerset. I had been due on a couple of weeks back, but there was a change of plan at the last minute and I was postponed for two weeks. I found myself for the first time in a long time being stuck in seriously bad Taunton traffic and actually arrived at the studio about ten minutes late. I was on the panel with Kate from the company Travels on Horseback (www.travelsonhorseback.com), a lovely lady who I had appeared on Emma's programme with before. We had a great discussion and it was also fantastic to know that my Aussie friend from Facebook, Jennie Towan, was listening on the other side of the world - and gloating about the Test Match. (It's only the first test, Jen!)

On the Friday I was off down to Exeter for a return visit to the Maynard School. As like last year they wanted the day to run from 10.30am to 4pm, which was fine by me. I left home giving myself plenty of time to get there - only to first come across a big smash on the A30 on Windwhistle Hill. This held me up for about 20 minutes, then when I finally got to Exeter I found the place virtually gridlocked with Christmas shoppers. I finally arrived at The Maynard approximately 10 minutes before I am due to appear at the start of my show. But as ever at this lovely school, I was warmly welcomed, especially by the lovely Keagh Fry, and was soon changed and ready. As ever it was a small group, 14 ladies this year, but they were very responsive, full of laughs and again in superb costumes. After the morning session, Keagh and I have a very nice lunch (Fish and chips!) and then it's back to the hall for more nonsense. Of course with it being an all girl's school I can't allow the jousting result to go into our year long score, but as you can guess, the ladies won!

Now instead of heading for home, I was now heading off to Dartmoor and an evening with my cousins, Mike and Janet Baker at their lovely home in Manaton. I had last visited them about 15 years ago with my late Grandfather, and had driven down there in bright summer sunshine and daylight. I was now fighting my way out of a yet again gridlocked Exeter, it is pitch dark and it is starting to snow. My sat nav seems to not have even the slightest idea where we are going. So instead of the sensible way of getting to Manaton (down the A38 and then turn off at Bovey Tracy) I now find myself on some tiny unlit track, with snow thick in the fields around me, somewhere near Mortonhampstead. And this seems to go on interminably. Added to which there seems to be absolutely no road signs whatsoever. After what seems like a lifetime of pitch dark single track lanes, with more and more snow falling, suddenly I see a tiny road sign that says "Manaton". Thank God for that! I slithered down this road and find myself by the church in Manaton which I remember parking up by the last time I had visited Mike and Janet all those years ago. But all is still pitch dark and snowy and there is no sign of their house. I finally slide down another hill and see some lights in the darkness, and there is Mike leaning against his front gate smoking one of his roll up cigarettes. As I climb from the car, I am sorely tempted to fall to my knees and kiss the ground, a la Pope John Paul II. I was warmly welcomed into their nice snug home, in which they have just had installed a brand new wood burning stove, which was so nice to sit around. Janet cooked a lovely meal, we drank too much wine and Mike let me have four trenchers (Tudor wooden plates) that he had specially made for me. I stayed overnight and after a nice breakfast I was soon on my way back to Somerset.

There was a fair bit of snow about on the hills of the Dartmoor, but not as much as I expected, but I thought it would thin out as I got closer to home. WRONG! By the time I got to Chard there was thick snow all around. Well, what other type of snow would you expect in Chard? I stopped off at home for a quick sit down and a cough (as Tony Hancock nearly said), I was off and out the door again for another run around at Barrington Court for their annual Mistletoe Fayre. As usual there were the fabulous selection of stalls and vendors of fine foods, drinks and wonderful crafts. It was good to see the Blackdown Babes selling group again, but there was slightly less people around this year than in previous times. This was mostly due to the weather most people assumed, so we are hoping for a better turn out tomorrow. Matthew seemed in good form, but I didn't see much of him.

All this and we are still being hammered by the Aussies in the first test. SIGH. Some things never change...

Parkfield School, Taunton

Good King Hal during his career as a doorman at the "Codpieces" Nightclub. His frequent cries of "Oi! No denim pantaloons!" made him few friends.

A return trip to Parkfield School in Taunton and the unique Mr Sides, the head teacher. I love this school and it's great kids, and all the teachers are friendly, chatty and a laugh a minute. On top of all this of course, is the aforementioned Mr Wynford Sides. He is outspoken, individual, quite old school, but a great head teacher none the less. He greeted me again on Tuesday morning when I arrived for my latest appearance at his school. It was another fine day at this brilliant place - the drive in was nice and easy, which isn't always the case in Taunton, and the work that was being done on the car park last year that resulted in me having to park about half a mile away, is thankfully over.

As ever all the children had dressed up in some fantastic costumes, including one lad dressed as a Knight in Shining Armour which seemed to consist of most Somerset based stocks of bacofoil. There was even one lad who seemed to be a cross between Kurt Cobain and a Musketeer. The morning was great with lots of laughs and some great displays of Tudor knowledge by the children. There were more nice comments about how good my new costume looked, which was very gratifying.

During lunch I sat and chatted to one of the teachers I had met at Parkfield before. She is a French lady who now lives over here with her husband and children. She was telling me a bit more about Francis the 1st, King of France and Henry VIII's contemporary - they met at the Field of the Cloth of Gold where they famously supposedly wrestled. I asked her how Francis is perceived in France in modern times, i.e. was he seen as some kind of monster as Henry is now seen by most modern people in this country. Apparently Francis is seen as a great moderniser, the person who dragged France into the modern world, a great patron of the arts (the man who brought Leonardo da Vinci to France!) and the builder of some famous and beautiful castles across the whole country. So just like Henry really... (ahem)...

The afternoon was a belter, so many laughs and a really brilliant jousting tournament. I knew there was little chance of the ladies winning here as during their race off, both teams proved as inept as each other! The actual final against the gents was a lot closer than I anticipated, but the Gentlemen ran out winners comfortably in the end. This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 9 - 9 LADIES

All square again, and as I have stated before, a lot closer than last year.

I am finally back on Emma Britton's Show on BBC Somerset tomorrow morning between 9am and 10am, then on Friday I am back at the Maynard School in Exeter which will be nice to see Keagh Fry and all her chums down there again. And by the look of the weather outlook I had better keep myself wrapped up in my furs! Brrrrrrrrr!

Children in Need & Kathryn Tickell

Good King Hal, in brand spanking new costume and with a bear behind. That's Pudsey, shortly before he needed another lie down.

Now I had a nasty feeling that this long trumpeted appearance by yours truly for the BBC at their annual Children in Need appeal was going to turn into another Rolf on Art. Well, I was nearly right. I had driven down to Kent on the Thursday to see my parents who were spending this week with my sister Cathy and her husband Julian at their house in Stockbury near Sittingbourne. On the Friday, after briefly getting two new tyres on my car, I drove down to Leeds Castle. My first stop was to try on a brand new Father Christmas outfit that I will be wearing for the festivities this year. It looks great and I am sure will be a big hit. Next it was time for a Production Meeting with the BBC people and the Leeds Castle people to let all of us know what the heck to expect for the broadcast in the evening. When this little thing was out of the way I went up to Darlene's office with her and her assistant Becky for a swift cup of tea before the rigours of the evening began.

Things had not got off to the best start when it turned out that I was sharing my dressing room with four other people as one whole dressing room had been bagged by the person playing Pudsey Bear. He had insisted on this as he was sometimes "utterly drained" from his performances and needed somewhere dark and quiet to lie down. I suggested Romney Marsh when the sun goes down. I was in with the Go Ape! and Princess Sparkle people, which if you saw the evening on BBC1 you'll probably have some idea what I am on about. The whole broadcast was going to be staged in the Fairfax Hall, across the moat from the main castle. The castle itself was to be illuminated and would have a giant picture of Pudsey projected onto the main walls. Inside the Fairfax there would be a band playing and a large area for kids and parents to sit and enjoy face painting and nibbles supplied by the castle. I spent the opening hour wandering round talking to the parents and children, but soon it was getting close to the first broadcast. I was frog marched out to the terrace overlooking the castle and was bandied in with groups of fund raisers from local schools, each with large cheques to show off to the camera. It was perishingly cold out on this terrace. They did a technical run through of where the cameras would go, then a rehearsal, and then a full rehearsal. The little lad standing in front of me, though clearly nervous, was word perfect. We then had to hang on and hang on until it was time for us to go "live". The lights came on, the female presenter started shouting at the camera, and they came to the little lad in front of me - and he completely cocked up his lines. Bless. There were a couple of close ups of me in the new costume from Judy, but for the rest of the evening that was about it for me. I was in another couple of shots, but was frequently shoved to the back so various children, teenagers and Pudsey-sodding-Bear could stand in front. After a brilliant fire work display it just seemed right to call it a night. I went back to my dressing room and changed, before briefly tottering round and saying goodnight to all my friends at the Castle. When I got back to my sisters, there were a lot of unhappy faces.

"We watched that stupid bloody programme all night, saw your face twice and your hat once. I'm going to bed." This was my jolly father before he stomped off upstairs to bed. Ah good, he was in a good mood. I treated myself to a couple of glasses of much needed wine to help relax, and then repaired to my own bed and slept very well.

Saturday morning I was off fairly sharpish from Cathy's in Kent as I had tickets for the Saturday evening for a concert by the delightful Kathryn Tickell at South Petherton in Somerset. I had originally purchased four tickets for this show, two for me and a "guest" and two for my friend Matthew Applegate and his wife Sue. However, after having looked her up on You Tube, Matthew decided he and his wife didn't like Kathryn Tickell's music and would not be coming. That's alright, another one of my masses of great mates would want these tickets, I was sure. WRONG! People were either busy, not interested, or in the case of my friend Jill Beed in Bridport, openly hostile to the idea of seeing Kathryn Tickell in concert! Her exact words were "wild horses could not drag me into that hall to listen to THAT woman!" I really wish she wouldn't beat around the bush and would let me know exactly how she feels about this music. Eventually, my dear old friend Ali Bessell came up from Portsmouth where she lives, we had a quick dinner at Ip's Palace Chinese in beautiful downtown Crewkerne, and then headed over to the David Hall Centre in South Petherton for the show. 150 people were crammed into the hall, and it was a superb show. The musicianship, the technical skills, the on-stage banter, it was all magical, and Kathryn and her band were on top form and went down a storm. One of the best musical evenings of my life. If you ever get a chance to see the Kathryn Tickell Band in concert, allow wild horses to drag you in - you will love it!

My next show is on Tuesday this week with a Henry visit to Parkfield Junior in Taunton, then I am off to the Maynard in Exeter later in the week.

This.... is Norfolk.

Norwich's most famous export apart from Delia Smith, Mustard and Jeremy Goss with that volley against Bayern Munich! Did you see that? He must have a foot like a traction engine!

I was up for two days in sunny Norfolk at two brand new schools for me. So to begin with I drove to Essex to spend some time with my son James and his Mummy, but it involved the next morning getting up at 4.30am to drive up to Gresham village, north of Norwich on the way to Cromer. It was a cold icy morning and the thermometer on my car never rose above minus two for the whole journey. As the sun began to bleed it's light from the horizon the verges by the road appeared bright white, as though dusted with snow, but it was just a very thick frost. Despite these low temperatures I was making excellent progress and my destination grew closer and closer. Suddenly the sat nav chimed and announced I had arrived. I stopped the car and looked round. I was by an empty open field. A bemused looking pheasant cast a beady eye at me and then sauntered off. Great. Where the hell was I? I re-programmed the sat nav using the name of the village rather than the post code as I had been using. The machine almost seemed to say "what the hell are you doing in this field? Your destination if over there!" and so off I went. I eventually managed to locate Gresham Village School in a very nice area of rural land and red brick Victorian country houses. Extremely attractive. As I was unloading my car another vehicle pulled up next to mine with two long haired Tudor be-decked figures. "Ah!" I boomed, "Two lovely wenches!" One of them had a beard. Bugger. These were the fellow re-enactors I had heard about. They played music and taught the children Tudor dance and etiquette. I began the morning wandering around to the nursery and reception class to meet the children and talk about Henry and Tudor times. They were really diddy and cute, all in fabulous costumes. I began by asking them how long ago they thought Henry had been around. One little chap ventured five years. I told them it was longer than that, so he guessed six, and then seven. This could take a long time I thought. Later on in the morning I was in the main hall with years 3, 4, 5 and 6, and we had a really good time. Lots of laughs and great knowledge from the children. Lunch was a fine Tudor banquet seated around long tables, with yours truly on the top table with the teachers. This soon led on to more talk and music stuff from me and finally a grand jousting tournament that culminated in a win for the ladies. This made the score now:

GENTLEMEN 8 - 8 LADIES

I presented the winning certificates in an end of day assembly attended by some of the parents. Great stuff. I loaded up the car and then headed off to Acle and my luxury Travelodge abode for the evening. It was, as any Travelodge, a bit spartan but warm and comfortable, and I slept very well.

In the morning I was up and out the door to Old Catton School in north Norwich. This was another new school and I had been recommended to them by the good people at White Woman Lane School. The teachers were a lovely lot at this school and we had plenty of laughs. It was a big group of children and sometimes they were a bit difficult to keep under tabs, but it all turned out fine in the end. The jousting tournament was another loud and fun affair which ended with ANOTHER win for the ladies! They had completed their come back from being so far behind. The score is now:

GENTLEMEN 8 - 9 LADIES

I drove back to Essex after the show and took Amanda and James out for a curry at the star-studded Bas Vegas. James has announced that he wants to be an actor when he is older. He then got a bit confused as he stated he'd rather be an actress than an actor. It appears he would give his all for his career. What a hero!

I am down to Kent tomorrow and then on Friday at Leeds Castle with the BBC for the Children in Need evening. Keep watching!

Cwmduad (and that's not a spelling mistake)

Good King Hal playing spot the castle. And failing, obviously.

I had originally been invited out to Cwmduad near Carmarthen in Wales back in September, however the group that had booked me suddenly realised that most of their members and potential audience were still on holiday, so the show was postponed for two months. So on the Friday just gone I drove down to Newcastle Emlyn, where my parents now live, which is only about 10 miles north of Cwmduad. I arrived on Friday at about lunch time and joined my parents, and my sister Susan for a bite to eat at Harrison's Cafe in Newcastle Emlyn - trust me on this, you would be well worth your while seeking this place out. Great food and always a warm welcome. It was great to see my sister Sue just back from a Rubinoos spotting trip to San Francisco (and you thought I was weird)...

On the Saturday morning my father and I drove down to Cwmduad to see if we could find the Community Centre Hall where I was to do my show that evening. I also had some stuff to post from sales on Ebay and there was a post office in Cwmduad so we could kill two birds with one large parcel. Or something like that. The drive down to Cwmduad from Newcastle Emlyn is nice at the best of times, but this time of year it is wonderful. The trees are a russet red and crowd in round the edges of the Teifi River that meanders alongside the road as you drive along. Lovely! In Cwmduad we popped into the Post Office which is situated in a local B&B. Three people were sitting chatting in the breakfast area. As I walked in one of the men immediately said "Hello Michael!" which astounded me. It turned out these lovely people in the B&B were the organisers for this evening's "Henry VIII" event! As I had pulled up in my father's car outside they had all agreed I just had to be the same bloke they had been talking to via email! After posting my stuff we went up to the Community Hall with them to see how it was set up. The community had done themselves proud, the hall was small, but was brilliantly set out with long tables, secluded lighting, tapestries, heraldic shields and everything else you could imagine for a Tudor banquet. It was going to be a good evening.

With the afternoon to kill, my father and I went down to see the mighty Newcastle Emlyn FC in their latest home match. A humongous crowd of about 25 had turned up and I graciously offered to pay the entrance fee of £2 for me and £1 for my father as an OAP. I told him he could get the tickets next time we go to the San Siro in Milan. The match was against the awesome Newport YMCA, so we knew Newcastle Emlyn should really walk this one. After just 1 minute, Newcastle Emlyn burst through and scored a fabulous opening goal so it was obvious this match was going to be very one sided. And it was. Newport YMCA won 6-1. Newcastle Emlyn were awful and could barely string two passes together and succeeded in making Newport YMCA look like Brazil. With 10 minutes to go, my Father and I were the only two mugs still sitting in the tiny grandstand. Everyone else had given up and gone. I can't wait to go back and see them again!

In the evening, with tickets for the event now purchased for my parents, I drove down to Cwmduad. It was a lovely evening, a great turn out, about 50+ people, many of them in wonderful medieval fancy dress. I was at the head of the table on a grand throne and with the others gathered around me. The meal was a fine rustic vegetable soup to begin, then roast pork rolls with apple sauce, crackling, and stuffing, and then finishing with apple pie. I was on between the pork roll and the apple pie (which sounds messy, but trust me it was OK) and the talk seemed to go really well. All the people made me very welcome, had worked incredibly hard and had made the whole evening a roaring success. Pats on the back all round.

Sunday I had lunch with my parents at Sue and Ian's place (sister and other half, if you were wondering), which was an indescribably tasty vegetarian cottage pie, followed by an apple pie with custard, which was brought alive with some zesty lemon. Great stuff. After that, I sat in the car like Buddha and drove back to Somerset.

This week I am off to Essex today, then tomorrow I am up to Norfolk for two days, then back down to Kent for an appearance at Leeds Castle on Friday night for BBC1's Children in Need. Turn on, tune in and don't blink, cos you might miss me!

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.

A Quickie... (ooh er!)

Just a quick note to anyone who was considering tuning in to Emma Britton's show on Wednesday this week on BBC Somerset in the hope of hearing my dulcet tones... Well, my appearance has been postponed. They are doing a special, very serious sounding show tomorrow now, and don't need a mock Tudor Monarch camping it up a storm in the studio. I have now been re-booked to appear on Emma's show on the morning of 25th November. Tune in then!

And now, here's Daniel Corbett with the weather. Daniel?

Archbishop Cranmer School, Taunton

Good King Hal attempting to write crude graffiti on the ceiling in the main hall at Barrington Court using a lance. He got as far as "Gertrude Jekyll is a..." before he was shot with a tranquiliser dart. He was later released back into the wild in the Serengeti Safari Park.

I only get to visit Archbishop Cranmer School (or ABC as it is known locally) every other year as I do years 3 and 4 combined. However, this was my fourth visit in the past seven years and it was a delight to be back. I was warmly welcomed by Sally Westney again, and got to see dear Tracy Crossman, who is now Tracy Owens as she has recently got spliced. But she works with a different year now, so was not in for the full day.

It was about 50 children for the day, and they were as ever at this wonderful school, great fun. Knowledgeable, fun, sparky and ready to laugh. There seems to be a hell of a lot of upgrading going on at ABC, some of which might be finished, and some of which my not. It was hard to tell! The main hall was distinctly nippy for the most part of the day, so I guess the heating is on the "to do" list! The morning session went down a storm, but I did make a bit of a boo-boo during the question and answer session just before lunch. I was taking various questions from the children when I went to one boy with his hand up. He said:

"How long he be King?" In a high pitched, almost helium influenced sing song voice. I told him to repeat the question in a sensible way and in his own voice. Sally Westney called to me that the child had only recently started at the school, was Portuguese and really did talk like that. Oops. Sorry!

I had some sandwiches for lunch, before we were back in the hall for a fun stocks session, followed by yet another brilliant joust. This one was really close, but it was the Ladies who triumphed again! They have now closed the gap on the gents to make the score:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 7 LADIES

Wonderful stuff! I am back on Emma Britton's show on BBC Somerset on Wednesday morning between 9 and 10am, and then on Thursday (which according to the current weather forecast looks fairly apocalyptic) I am off to Ventnor on the Isle of Wight for a show there. Should be fun!

Manor Court Junior, Chard

Good King Hal (left) yesterday, just before he woke up from the dream. Seen here scratching his arse with a big sword. As you do. And I really do look like this, until I wake up.

It was the final day of a long week today, and another return visit, this time to the wonderful Manor Court School in Chard. The original plan had been that the children from this school would come and visit me at Barrington Court for their Henry day. However, the heating system at the Court house is at present a bit hors du combat as the French would say in a very poorly written way, and the thought of the poor little pupils freezing in the old kitchen, it was decided to swap the day back to Manor Court School itself.

It was good to be back and nice to see all the old familiar faces again, like the lovely Laura Devereaux, the lady who had booked me for the show this year. It was two year 6 classes today, a total of about 55 pupils. The morning was fun, but a little truncated as there was an assembly just before morning break. After tottering down to the new Sainsbury's in Chard for a sandwich it was soon back to the main hall and the Tudor day continued. The afternoon was fairly riotous, but was also curtailed due to another assembly! The jousting was a fabulous event and was won this time by the ladies! Our score now moves to:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 6 LADIES

And so this long week is done. I got back fairly early to Chez Henry in Crewkerne, and promptly fell asleep in my coma chair. I am really looking forward to my weekend off. I am back on show on Monday with another return visit, back to Archbishop Cranmer School in Taunton. Tired, but happy.

Dunster School

A tense moment as Keith Emerson realises his mighty wurlitzer has just fallen apart. Music lovers from around the globe wept with joy, however their happiness was short lived as mere nano-seconds later Carl Palmer launched into a 23 minute drum solo brought only to a finale due to a sudden attack of Tigers.

The long week continued, but today it was time to go to Dunster. This was my 7th visit to this lovely village/school and once again I was warmly greeted by the charming head teacher, Peter Hoyland. The teacher I normally see, Nicola Grey, had a child last year and is now only working at the school in a very part time basis, so it was a new class teacher for this year's group. Her name was Katy Swann and she was lovely! She pre-warned me the group could be a little "lively", but they were pretty good all in all. It was a small group, only about 30 children, but they were excitable, eager to join in and good fun as ever at Dunster. If you are ever in Somerset, you really should go out of your way to visit Dunster. Most visitors to this part of the North Somerset coast tend to head for Minehead, an act I think worthy of committal for treason. Minehead is a typical "knees up Mother Brown", knotted handkerchief on head, fish and chips, "lets all go down the Strand - HAVE A BANANA!", paddling in the surf, plastic bucket and spade, God-awful seaside resort as you can find anywhere. But Dunster, just a few miles inland from this hell hole is a delight. The high hills around the small village are dominated by the grand walls of Dunster Castle, whereas down in the centre all is olde worlde charm, beams, leaded light windows and period detail. Quaint is the ideal word to cover it. I have only ever been to Dunster to work at the school, but I really must get back there sometime as a genuine visitor.

The morning passed at great speed and was loud and entertaining. I had lunch with Mr Hoyland and we discussed his amazing musical taste, and all the great bands he has seen recently and is going to see. Mr H is quite a groovy dude with trips to see Madness and Ocean Colour Scene recently under his belt, and he is off to see Paul Weller at the end of this month. Lucky chap! Mind you, I am off to see Kathryn Tickell soon (who? I hear you cry. Google her!) and I am looking forward to it.

After the musical interlude it was back to Tudor times for a slightly dinner-lady-delayed afternoon session. The jousting was such a closely fought contest in the final, but it was the gents again back on the winning trail as they just squeaked the narrowest of victories. This now makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 5 LADIES

How much different it would have been if the ladies could have just taken that win today. Amazing. As I left this lovely school today, the sky above was leaden and heavy with cloud. However, the Quantock Hills in the distance were bathed in bright sunshine and looked almost unreal. Villages, hamlets and houses on their green undulating uplands were picked out in natures spotlight and sparkled alluringly. Lovely!

Tomorrow I am back at Manor Court School in Chard for more Tudor nonsense. Read all about it here tomorrow.

St Paul's Junior, Shepton Mallet

More rock and pop nonsense as Otis Redding and James Brown go pale at the price of a half of mild at the old "Kebab and Calculator" in downtown Harlem. Damn!

Ah, that was a bit better. A slightly less early start today and a return visit to St Paul's Junior School in Shepton Mallet. Shepton Mallet always sounds like Timmy's older Shakespearean actor brother. Perhaps he is, who knows. Early starts with Radio 2 have improved considerably of late as well. Long time thirsty DJ Sarah Kennedy is now a thing of the past and has lately been replaced by Aled Jones. This is a good improvement, but I feel they could find someone even better. Chris Evans' show is now starting half an hour earlier at 6.30am and he is always worth a listen.

St Paul's is a great school, tucked away in the heart of Shepton Mallet. It gives the impression of having once been a fairly grand house, and is still attractive to this day. The teachers are without fail friendly and welcoming and the children are always funny and fizzy. Before the show started today I was pre-warned about one little chap who was very sensitive and had a tendency to burst into tears at the slightest thing. He came to meet me before I got into the Henry costume, and I showed him some of the props I would be using during the day. This seemed to gain his confidence and he managed to stay with us for the whole day without too much upset. He also managed to be the only child today to get 20 out of 20 on the Tudor quiz, which pleased him a lot. Bless!
Lunch was lasagna and veg, followed by a nice home made flapjack. My idea of school dinner heaven. After lunch it was back to the hall for lots of nonsense and a great jousting tournament. The lads teams seemed to struggle with the rules and for some reason kept rushing round the course for extra laps for no adequately clear reason. In the final though, there was no denying the clear winners who were the ladies again! This now makes the year long score very interesting indeed.

GENTLEMEN 6 - 5 LADIES

I have a feeling it is going to be this close throughout the entire year. We shall see.

Tomorrow I am up early again for a drive over to one of my favourite schools - Dunster, near Minehead. It is always a delight to go over there, so fingers crossed for another good day.

Elmlea Junior

Good King Hal continues his music theme from yesterday, by posing with the Nolan Sisters. From left to right: Bridget, Bernadette, GKH, Colleen, and Barry. This was to promote their new single "I'm in the Mood for Crackling".

Elmlea? That's a type of cream substitute, isn't it? I had been summoned to Elmlea Junior by the teacher Beth Lem, who sounds vaguely Biblical, as she had seen me doing my Henry stuff in years gone by when she used to work at the Hugh Sexey School in Wedmore. Elmlea School is in Westbury on Trym, the wonderfully named area of Bristol that sounds more like something out of a Dickens novel. Even when you get to this bizarre suburb it is difficult to know how to take it. Leafy lanes clash cheek by jowl with roads that would not look out of place in Dagenham. The school itself is quite big and I was doing a mixed group of years 3 & 4 today, six classes in total and about 150 children. They were a very lively noisy bunch, but great fun with it. The day began in strange style by a load of the parents coming in to watch the year 4 children do a pre-rehearsed Tudor dance - each of the three classes doing it one after the other. I was asked to make comments after each performance, and decided that rather than act as a kind of Simon Cowell, I would be much more of a cheerful Tudor Len Goodman type.

The morning itself went really well - we spent all the pre-lunch period in the dance studio (you will be glad to hear I wasn't wearing leg warmers and doing the splits). After a lovely roast dinner lunch we moved up to the big main hall for the stocks and jousting session. The head teacher must be cursing her luck as she just happened to wander into the main hall when I was looking for a teacher to put in the stocks. She took it all in good spirit and only stuck a screwdriver in two of my car's tyres. The jousting was a noisy rambunctious affair which nearly tore the roof off the main hall! In a pulsating final a great ladies team stormed to a brilliant win. This now brings our score to:

GENTLEMEN 6 - 4 LADIES

So the ladies are coming back into it. They will get their latest chance to pull closer to the chaps tomorrow when I make a pleasant return visit to St Paul's School in Shepton Mallet.

Half Term and a Half.

A very early publicity shot of The Human League in concert in some God awful dump in Sheffield, probably.

It's been half term, of course, and quite a fun one for me. I have had James with me for most of the week, which is always fun, and he has been a little angel this week. I drove up to Essex at the beginning of the week to pick him up, and took advantage of being in that locale on the Saturday night to meet up with an old friend, which was great! On the Monday morning, Amanda and I took James to Brentwood and the group he attends called SNAP! (SNAP stands for Special Needs and Parents and is a wonderful resource for parents who have children with special needs, whatever their situation). James normally goes over there for a right old run around and play, but on the Monday they had a photographer in and we wanted to get some new snaps (if you'll pardon the pun) of him. They looked great. After lunch James and I drove down to Somerset for the rest of the week. We had a great time and James enjoyed visiting a lot of his old favourite places - Barrington Court, Bilby's in Ilminster to see Tris, I took him up to Street to get him some shoes and he had a lovely time having a go on a mock rock climbing frame, shooting up over 20 feet in no time at all, despite just getting over a sprained ankle. My parents came to stay on the Thursday as they wanted to visit Lawrence's Auction Room in Crewkerne where I was selling some stuff for them. In the evening on the Thursday we went over to the Royal Oak at Barrington for dinner. Now in a previous posting on this blog I reported on the death of this pub, and it has for the last few years been run into the ground by various disinterested managers etc. It has now most recently been occupied by two Australian gents called Graham and Tony, and the place has just come alive again. Both these gents are great characters and are as camp as a row of pink tents. An example for you is this - on their menu none of the dishes are just called "Steak and Chips" or "Lasagne", each and every item is named after someone famous. For instance you can order a "Bill Clinton" which is a large burger, with loose meat, and a bit on the side. And for the vegetarians, you could ask for a Monica Lewinsky, which is predictably, the bit on the side.

Mum and Dad curtailed their brief visit and headed back to Wales on the Friday. James and I went into Yeovil where I bought James the Lego Harry Potter game for his Wii console I had promised him. He was overjoyed. We also went to James' favourite restaurant in the world - Pizza Hut. He doesn't like pizza of course, but he loves their spaghetti bolognese and would mud wrestle his own Nanna for a go on their ice cream machine. I went for the buffet option on this day and was amazed to see some of the most gluttonous behaviour I have ever seen, and it wasn't me! I went up to the hot plate when some pizzas were brought out, and was practically elbowed out of the way by two pensionable age women who proceeded to stack up slice after slice of pizza on their two plates. They must have had 8 or 9 huge slices on each plate, which if you have ever experienced a lunchtime buffet at Pizza Hut and have seen the tiny size of plate they give you, you will know is an engineering feat of Brunelian proportions. When they stepped away from the hot plate, like two wizened vultures having a break from a zebra carcass, there were two slices of pizza left. So I had them. I watched where they went back to sit, and I thought, fair enough they have two teenage girls with them and a primary school age boy. However, the girls and the boy were going up to help themselves as well! All that pizza was just for themselves! Greedy old cows!

I drove James back to Essex on Saturday, had an evening with him and Amanda, and then came home on the Sunday, but even then the oddness of the week wasn't over. I stopped for petrol at a station on the A13 leading down to the Dartford Crossing. As I was coming out of the shop with a bag of sandwiches and some drink I heard someone calling me.

"Oi! Oi you!" I looked round. The voice came again. "Oi!" I looked to see a sort of Chris Moyles-ish looking bloke sitting in a big silver Range Rover with one window down calling to me. "Get back in that shop!" he shouted. Eh? I looked at him blankly.

"Pardon?" I asked.

"If you're going to do that, get back in the shop!" He shouted again. I was completely non-plussed by now.

"Are you talking to me?" I asked. He pointed a finger now.

"Put that cigarette out!" He barked. Christ, what a loony. No fag on the go with me folks.

"I'm not bloody smoking!" I shouted. He made direct eye contact with me.

"Oh, sorry Sir!" He said "Not you, but that prat there!" he pointed to the drivers side of the BMW parked between me and him. "If you want to blow yourself up, Sir, do it somewhere by yourself and don't take innocent people with you!" It turned out the tattooed troglodyte in the BMW was only sitting on the forecourt of a big petrol station smoking a fag with the window open. As I drove away up the A13 I kept a check on my rear view mirror for signs of a mushroom cloud rising over the Stanford Le Hope by pass. Not a sausage.

Sunday evening I went back to the David Hall Centre in South Petherton for their open Mic night, but I hadn't prepared anything, so despite some very generous invites to go up and do some stand up, I reluctantly declined. It was a good evening, but seemed to lack the excitement of the previous month, possibly having something to do with the fact I wasn't as nervous as hell and about to go on stage!

A busy week ahead - Bristol tomorrow, Shepton Mallet on Wednesday, Dunster on Thursday and Chard on Friday. Should be fun!