Truro Prep, Cornwall

Good King Hal (right) appearing in black and white, something to do with either (a) shortages, or more likely (b) he was alive in the 16th Century and colour photos took a long time to come back from the chemists.

My brain is obviously turning to mush these days. Following on from getting myself double booked the other week, I received a message on Tuesday evening from my friend Minti down in Cornwall asking me what time I was going to be turning up to stay with her, her other half Gary, and their lovely kids. I had completely forgotten our telephone conversation from a few weeks previously when Minti had graciously offered me a room for the night so that I would be close to Truro Prep for the morning start. More abject apologies from me, but thankfully Minti just thought it was hilarious.

I left from Somerset relatively early on the Wednesday morning, but it was a very pleasurable drive. The weather was kind, the roads mostly empty and the scenery as I drove down into Cornwall became quite rugged and interesting. It was nice to see the A30 over Bodmin Moor empty, rather than how I remember it during summer holidays - a long thin, winding car park, with over heated engines, families and tempers. I stopped in the early morning sunlight near Jamaica Inn and bought myself some breakfast, which was most welcome. You approach Truro Prep school via a tiny back lane near Truro golf club, and then in through a small winding back driveway. The previous two visits to this lovely school had been at the height of summer, and lunch had consisted of a slap up hog roast served out on the cricket pitch. It was warm and sunny today, but certainly not warm enough for the delights of an outdoor hog roast. As ever I was warmly welcomed by the lovely staff of this delightful school, and everyone, and I mean EVERYONE had dressed up in Tudor costumes. The morning was to be a different from my normal Henry days - I would give my opening "Six Wives" talk four times over to each different year group that was studying it. So I kicked off just after 9am, shortly after being serenaded by the school orchestra through a strangulated version of "Greensleeves", and then a rumbustious singing of "The Tudors Had Arrived" song by some miserable person with the initials T.D. who should not be approached by small children or Henry VIII impersonators.

My opening talk was to the year 5 group who were quiet to begin with, but really picked up as the talk progressed. Next I was with the year 3 group, who simply sat in stunned silence throughout the talk with a vague look of terror on their faces. We had a break for about 2o minutes, where a cup of tea was most welcome. Then it was back for year 6 who really got it and thoroughly enjoyed the show. I finished the morning with year 4, who were a smaller group and a little quieter than the year 6's. Lunch was in the main dining hall and was a sumptuous Tudor affair consisting of roasted pheasant, beef or chicken, slow roasted vegetables and roast potatoes (OK admittedly the pheasant and the potatoes would not have been on Henry's menu) which was absolutely stunning. The pheasant in particular was delicious - moist tasty and a delight. There was some pottage and bread as a starter, but just in case it tasted like real Tudor pottage I gave that a wide berth. The pudding was a sort of cheesecakey/milk puddingy filling, with lots of cinnamon and raisins, in a pastry case. It was interesting, much in the same way I am sure industrial floor polish is interesting.

After lunch I had to judge the children's costumes in a parade of the whole school - not an easy job. Then after that we had a long superb jousting tournament in the big sports hall. It was a fabulous tournament over many races but was eventually won by a very capable ladies team, that now brings our score to:

GENTLEMEN 18 - 22 LADIES

I was supposed to go an meet an old friend, Annalise who I used to work with at Rochester Cathedral in Kent, as she now lives and works down near Truro. Sadly, I didn't get away from the school till after 4pm and I was due out for dinner with friends near Langport that evening by 7pm, so I knew I would be cutting it fine. Therefore I had to blow poor old Annalise out, and promise to visit her another time soon.

I got back to Somerset and almost immediately had to go out and meet my friends at the Halfway House Inn at Pitney near Langport. We had a fabulous meal and lots of laughs. So all in all, a really nice day! My next Henry show is on Monday at Downend in Bristol, the birthplace of WG Grace. How thrilled you must all be to know that!

Mereside School, Shrewsbury

Good King Hal and Anne of Cleeves having a quick nose round their new under stairs cupboard.

Now I was originally due to go to Mereside School in Shrewsbury in Shropshire on the 7th January, but the school had phoned and requested the date be put back. Originally this was to the 4th March, but back then I was suffering with a terrible chest infection and cough that made me explode every so often with eye watering volcanic eructations of the stridulating, gear crunching kind. Not a pretty site and not something to show off to impressionable children in Shrewsbury. Therefore the show was postponed again and this time back to Monday 14th March.

Shrewsbury is a long way from South Somerset, so I decided to drive up on the Sunday and stay overnight at a hotel so that I would be nice a fresh for the Monday morning. I booked myself into this wonderful little place called a "Travelodge" - you might have heard of them, quaint roadside lodges with lots of personal character, and.... no... I can't go on. I cannot tell a lie. They are the hotel version of the Roman Empire - doesn't matter where you go, they are all exactly the same. I booked in and sat in my room flicking through the TV channels - all the stuff you could imagine, plus for some reason a Russian news channel - in English. Bizarre. I had been assured by the Travelodge website that there was a Little Chef AND a Burger King adjacent to the hotel, so even if I wasn't going to be eating haute cuisine I would at least not have to stagger too far for a plate of heart attack and chips. WRONG! Both the fast food outlets were closed for refurbishment, so my Sunday evening meal consisted of cold sandwiches bought from a local petrol station. I had driven to where the school was early in the evening on Sunday so I knew where it would be for Monday morning. It was only about five minutes up the road, so that was good news to me.

I got up on the Monday and drove down to the school. I was very warmly welcomed by the staff and teachers, and soon found myself with the children in the hall. It was a nice big group of about 90 children. To begin with they were quite quiet, but they soon warmed up and as the day progressed the laughs got louder. Lunch was a full proper plate of sausage and chips - who needed Little Chef anyway!

The afternoon joust was hilarious, loud and nearly blew the roof off the hall! It culminated in a narrow victory for a very good Gents team. This now brings our score to:

GENTLEMEN 18 - 21 LADIES

All the staff were delightful and took part in a final joust with great enthusiasm! Bless 'em all! The drive back was relatively easy despite a bit of a snarl up round Birmingham, but I guess that is just par for the course.

The last time I had been to Shropshire for anytime was back in 2002 for a holiday with my wife. We stayed in a lovely little village near Ludlow called Downton on the Rock. Amanda was pregnant with James and upon arriving at our self catering cottage she had decided she needed a lie down and a rest. Being on my own, I had soon exhausted the entertainment possibilities of the cottage - I had turned the heating on and off, opened the fridge door to see how quickly the light came on, and had taken to dancing to Test Match Special on Radio 4 Long Wave. In a fit of boredom I decided to shave my beard off. I first grew my beard at the age of 21 and by 2002 I was 35, therefore I had not seen my face completely bald for 14 years. I was worried I had possibly turned into a potato. I nearly shaved it all off, but chickened out at the end and left myself with a small goatee. I woke Amanda up shortly afterwards with a cup of tea. She didn't notice the beard, in fact she didn't notice the beard for another two days, until I pointed it out to her while having lunch out somewhere. Bless.

My next Henry show is tomorrow, Wednesday the 16th March at Truro Prep in Cornwall, a lovely school I last visited back in 2008. Should be a fun day! Shame I forgot I had promised to drive down the night before and visit my friend Minti where she lives near Rough Tor in Cornwall. Whoops. I shall make it up to her and Gary sometime soon, honestly!

St Michael's followed by St Michael's...

Good King Hal (left), halfway through a terrifying transformation into a werewolf, playing a growl kornholt solo of "It Must Be Jelly Cos Jam Don't Shake Like That". Oh, the humanity...

After the trials and tribulations of the Bedford day and the joy of my on line banking experience, it was nice to be back to being Henry VIII again. On the Wednesday it was back to one of my longest running schools, St Michael's Junior in Wimborne in Dorset. The lady I usually see at Wimborne is called Jane Eyre, but she is off doing a year overseas with the VSO in Gambia. That or she's doing 12 months in Parkhurst.

Despite her absence there were plenty of familiar and friendly faces on my arrival. As usual on going back to schools I visit frequently there is the cry of "Is it a year already?" from all and sundry, which I think they mean in a nice way! It was a larger group than in previous visits - 140 children this time, and they were a good fun, sparky group. They laughed a lot and joined in well, and pretty much all of them were dolled up in fabulous Tudor costumes. Some of the homemade ones were of a very high standard. I spent a very pleasant lunch break with two of the younger members of the female staff (always a good thing), teaching them how to tell jokes. Neither of them had much of a clue, but then I suppose when you're that pretty and young, who needs humour? That's why I am sitting here alone, in an apartment in South Somerset dressed as a clown with a revolving bow tie on.

The afternoon session was as loud and raucous as it can be and culminated in a stunning jousting tournament won by a very good ladies team. This made the score after the Wimborne show:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 20 LADIES

The drive home was quite pleasant, not too much traffic and along that road from Wimborne to Dorchester with lovely views and scenery all around. I got home, made some dinner, turned on the TV to see Spurs about to take on AC Milan, and promptly fell asleep. Then Spurs always have that effect on me. (DAMN YOU, RICKY VILLA!!!)

And isn't it funny. You wait all year to do a show at a school called St Michael's, then two turn up at once! I had last visited St Michael's in Twerton near Bath back in May 2010, and as I usually see them at about that time of year it seemed odd turning up at this school on a cold breezy morning. Where was all the warm early summer sun?? Again it was good to see some old familiar faces, plus some new ones. This was a group of about 90 children, very excitable and sometimes a bit of a handful, but I kept them happy for most of the day. On the Tudor quiz which I do in the morning, one little lad managed to score 1 out of 20, which is far and away the lowest score anyone has ever got, but I didn't tell him that. Bless him! Lunch was a cannon ball sized baked potato swamped with baked beans and cheese, with a nice crisp salad on the side. Smashing.

The afternoon was riotous, but fun! Some of the kids laughed so much at the stocks routine I honest thought some of them might have little accidents, but the floor remained resolutely dry. The jousting was again of a very high standard and the final finished in a thrilling dead heat between the gents and the ladies. It went to a one quoit race off to find the winner which the ladies just about squeaked home in. The gents score is starting to drift again! The score is now:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 21 LADIES

Good stuff. The drive home was marred only by having to endure Victoria Coren on the Steve Wright Show on Radio 2. Why does he never have Giles London on his show? He'd be great! If you've never had the chance to enjoy him, please check out the occasional blog of the capital's smoothest, smartest, most nepotism-riddled restaurant reviewer - Giles London at http://gileslondon.blogspot.com/ as you will find he is nothing like Giles Coren in The Times at all. Honest.

My next Henry appearance is at Mereside Junior in Shrewsbury on Monday. This was the show postponed a couple of weeks back when my chest was really bad. It may be tempting fate, but I feel better now! COUGH SPLUTTER! DOH!

Head for The Hills!

The final remains of Good King Hal (left) after the events of Monday the 7th March 2011.

There are some days that you look back on, when they are over, and you honestly think to yourself - what the hell did I get out of bed for in the first place this morning? Now I didn't entirely think that last night before I slumped into the land of nod, but I was close. It all began with getting up early in the morning.

Now according to my work calendar, Monday 7th March I was due at The Hills Lower School in Bedford. This entailed setting the alarm for the morning at 4am, for a 4.30am departure for the three and a little bit hours drive to Bedford from South Somerset. I deliberately put my alarm clock the other side of the room when I have to get up that early - it entails me actually having to get out of bed to turn it off, not just throw an arm at it and potentially fall asleep again. However I am always very aware of having to get up early, and frequently on nights like this my brain keeps whirring away while I try and get to sleep. It says "You might oversleep! What will you do then?" or "You're still not asleep and it must be nearly 4am by now! You'll fall asleep at the wheel and kill yourself!" However, with clever use of a Charlie Brooker book and some "Night Nurse" for my still gently burbling chest, I did eventually fall asleep. And I got up in time as well! I was very proud of my morning ablutions and was up and out of the flat by 4.30am. The roads at that time of day are an absolute delight of course, no one around at all, and I sailed serenely up the A303 towards the A34. (Well, as serenely as you can in a Mazda 323F).

The last couple of times I have visited Bedford it has been a nightmare to get into. Roadworks upon roadworks, tons of non-moving traffic and a rapidly ticking clock. But this time, it was a doddle - and I soon found myself past Milton Keynes and Buckingham, and virtually on the door step of the school. Apart from some poor sap in a Vauxhall Astra having his engine blow up as I drove behind him, it was a pretty much hassle free arrival at the school. The surroundings looked remarkably familiar. As I turned into the gate of the school it said "Welcome to Hazeldene Lower School". Huh? Hazeldene was a school I used to visit as Henry, but I hadn't been here since 2007 - why had my sat nav brought me here? Because, believe it or not, The Hills Lower School is on the same site. They use the same gate! Two completely separate Lower Schools with their front doors approximately 10 yards apart. Madness. I sat in the car having a quick swig of my drink before I went in, and watched with interest as another car parked over by the Hazeldene entrance. A young female teacher got out, and unaware she was being eyed by a dirty old Tudor monarch, paused to adjust her stocking tops. Well, that made my morning, I can tell you! I don't know who you are madam, but you did me the power of good.

As I got into the school I met the teacher I was dealing with - a very nice lady who had bombarded me with emails and questions over the previous couple of weeks. Still, it was nice to be here. I was warned by several members of staff that the group I would be with today, a year three group of two classes, were challenging and excitable to say the least. Who was I to argue with them? So I got all my stuff in the hall, got changed, and then ended up sitting on my "April" in the staff room for an hour as the kids had a singing lesson. Finally I got in the hall with the kids. They were very excitable and at times, quite a handful. One lad with some obvious learning difficulties was like a Jack in the Box of energy, with almost Tourette's Syndrome scatter gun approach to shouting out at me whenever he felt like it. It was only a brief morning, but it seemed quite long.

During lunch I chatted to a very nice lady who looks after all the gardens where the kids grow their own fruit and veg. I suddenly noticed I had a whole ream of missed calls on my mobile phone. It was messages from a school in Hertfordshire wondering where I was as I was supposed to be with them on the 7th March. Huh?? One of the teachers allowed me to sign onto a PC to check my emails to see what was going on and, uh-oh, they were right. I had well and truly double-booked myself. I had told both The Hills and this other school that I would be with them on the 7th March. The only thing I think that could have happened was that both schools had hassled me for information on dates a lot and all the time I was at Leeds Castle away from my office. As excuses go it is pretty lame, but it was the best I could do. I mailed the teacher in Hertfordshire with abject apologies filled with sackcloth and ashes, and promised to sort something out for them.

The afternoon was equally loud and hard work. Not sure I have shouted quite so much to such a small group for a long time. But they seemed to enjoy most of it and the jousting was very loud and raucous, and ended with another win for the gents! This brings our score up to:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 19 LADIES

Much more interesting. I unloaded all my gear back to the car, and then found the gates were locked. I went back into the school and found the caretaker. He assured me they weren't locked it was just made to look that way. I walked back to the car. The gates WERE locked. I walked back and got the caretaker who trudged out to unlock them with all the enthusiasm and gusto of a sloth on mogadons. I went through the gates only to find that there was now also an OUTER set of gates. This was purgatory! Luckily they weren't properly locked so I got out and headed off for a three hour drive.

The drive home was OK, apart from one little snarl up near Stonehenge. I got back, exhausted, finished and very low after such a hard show. I decided to cheer myself up to see if my pay had gone into my bank account. It hadn't. I checked up on why not and found out the standing order for it from my business account had been entered with the wrong month - my rent was due today and I didn't have enough in my account to cover it. ARGH! I phoned the bank and got onto their automated system. First they wanted my account number keyed in - done. Now the sort code keyed in - done. Now the second numeral from my personal security number. My what? What personal security number? The condescending electric voice just kept repeating it, like the boring teacher in "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." I thought, I know I shall go in on another number and talk to a real person. I tried to but ended up at the same information superhighway cul de sac. In the end, very frustrated and eager to sort this out I tried to postpone my rent payment on line by one day - I was told I was too late in the day. ARGH!!! I know, inventive GKH thought, I shall phone the bank's new customer line, that way I am guaranteed to talk to a real person and they won't need this mysterious Personal Security Number crap. I keyed in the number - only to be told that the line was only open between 8am and 8pm. And the time at that very instant??? 8.01pm. AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH! Cue complete "mental mental chicken oriental" moment with the King. The phone gets ripped from the wall and is thrown on the floor and bludgeoned to death with it's own hand piece. Not a pretty site.

Today I went out and bought a new phone and discovered that my pay had gone through as an emergency payment thanks to my lovely company "Past Presence Ltd". The school in Hertfordshire now think I am the dot over the letter I in the word SH*T and I am currently watching Barcelona players doing passable impressions of dying swans every time an Arsenal player breathes next to them. If anyone ever builds a time machine I shall borrow it for one journey only. I shall go back to the evening of the 6th March 2011, and I will turn off my alarm clock.

Tomorrow, the 9th, I am back at one of my all time favourite schools, the very wonderful St Michael's School near Wimborne in Dorset. Should be fun.

Hazlegrove and Heaving Chests (Ooh-er!)

Good King Hal starring in the latest blockbuster "Babe 3 - Pig in a White Wine Sauce, with shallots, aubergines and potato rosti, all served with a nice chilled Chablis". Certificate 18.

My son has a certain temper with inanimate objects, when they won't do what he wants them to do. Sadly, I can hide this no longer - he gets this from me. And with me it isn't even inanimate objects. If anything isn't doing what I want it to do, it is in danger of being smashed to pieces or thrown across the room. I am usually this same intolerant idiot when it comes to being ill. Now I have just finished my week long run at Leeds Castle and it is usually when I am there that I fall ill with a bad chest - but I have waited until the week after to get all yukky. Now, whenever I lie down my chest goes bubble-bubble-wheeze and I begin coughing and sometimes can't stop for several eye-watering minutes. This is where my temper with inanimate objects goes to a new level, as I get so angry with my lungs for not working properly I just want to rip them out, squeeze them dry, run them through a mangle and then stuff them back in again. As I can't actually do this for real (please, children at home - DON'T try this) it means I have been having terrible trouble sleeping of late. So the night before I was due to drive to Hazlegrove School near Sparkford in Somerset I gave up on my bed after a couple of wheezing coughing filled hours and headed instead for the warm comforts of my almost world famous "Coma Chair" (C) Mike Farley 2010. Now I knew not to sleep with my feet on the floor as this could bring on such horrors as deep vein thrombosis, scurvy and Mongolian Luirghi Fever of the Fallen Arches (or something like that). So I dutifully stuck my legs up on a stool, stuck on the latest recorded edition of Neil Oliver's "History of Ancient Britain" and as predicted I promptly fell fast asleep.

I woke up at some damnably early hour and found that my feet had at some point in the night fallen off the stool. I was now blessed with ankles that felt remarkably like over ripe cantaloupe melons. I still felt ill and my chest burbled away merrily as I drove up the A303 to Sparkford, pausing only to cough alarmingly and wipe my watering eyes. Hazlegrove School is in a remarkable old house that apparently, I was informed later, was once slept in by Catherine of Aragon... or was it Katherine Parr? Well it was one of them. Mind you, the amount of places I have been in my time as Henry VIII and been told that one of the six wives once slept there, or that Mary I slept there, or Queen Elizabeth had eaten a Ginsters pasty there etc. The other one I get all the time is mostly American women coming up to me at events and telling me they're related to Anne Boleyn. Well so am I - we're both mammals for Christ's sake. Anyway, I am getting off the subject.

Hazlegrove School was lovely, the teachers were unbelievably friendly and helpful and very sympathetic to my burbling chest and frequent Krakatoa cough explosions. The kids were great and called the usual private school names like Hector or Ned, or Jensen or Barry (not really). The lunch was lovely, a very tasty roast pork with veg and roast potatoes. The afternoon session went very well and finished with two of the finest jousting teams you will ever see, but ended with the Gentlemen's team just sneaking a narrow victory over a very good ladies team. This makes our score:

GENTLEMEN 16 - 19 LADIES

I felt totally wasted after the show. Just exhausted and burnt out. All I could think of was that I was due to get up at 4am the next morning and drive three hours up to Shrewsbury for a visit to Mereside School. To be honest I just couldn't face the idea. I needed rest and lots of it. When I got home I called Mereside and they were lovely - they said it was fine and the show has now been postponed back to the 14th March. Phew. This meant I could have a lie in this morning and get better, and you know what? I feel much better for it. Therefore the next Henry day is now on Monday at The Hills School in Bedford.

Henry's Horrid History - an overview

A brief reminder of Good King Hal's previous performances of "Henry's Horrid History" at Leeds Castle three years ago. You can be assured he did not have a fireplace like that in his marquee this time around.

Leeds Castle, near Maidstone in Kent. Three shows a day. Nine days straight off. A total of twenty seven shows. But it wasn't, actually. It was only twenty six. This was because the very first show we did on Saturday the 19th February no one turned up for, which could possibly have given you the idea that this was some sort of portent of doom. How wrong we were! As the week progressed more and more people attended the shows - on sunny days (and we had a couple of those) we were reluctantly having to turn some people away. This prompted Leeds Castle's management to add an extension on the side of the grand marquee I was in to get more bums on seats. On our best day we had just short of 600 punters in for the three shows which was wonderful.

Once more I stayed with my sister at her house in Stockbury near Sittingbourne, and I was right royally pampered the whole time I was there. Cath and her husband Julian were perfect hosts, and it was great to see their lovely friendly dog Charlie again. They have a new addition to the household with another rescue dog living with them - she is a tiny Lurcher called Oona. She is very affectionate, but blotted her copybook slightly by peeing all over my bed on the last night I was staying there. Well, Cathy SAYS it was the dog... Perhaps she was trying to tell me I had out stayed my welcome!

My set up at the Castle was impressive. They had erected a large square marquee next to the maze up near the aviary. Dallas, the genius who builds so many of Leeds Castle's temporary, but brilliant props and sets, had constructed me a partitioned off "dressing room" in one corner of the marquee, and had brilliantly disguised my big Father Christmas chair from the grotto and turned it into a throne for the King. I was to do three shows a day - one at 11am, one at 1pm and one at 2.30pm. We quickly had to change the 1pm show to a 12.30pm start as my talk clashed with the bird flying display outside by World of Wings and I was getting drowned out by their PA system and mood music. As crowd sizes increased as the week went along, my voice was coming under more strain, so I was issued with a throat mic and amplifier for the rest of the week - which was great and saved me from sounding like Barry White by the end of the run.

Lots of friends came to see the shows. Adam and Lisa Hudson with their kids came on the first Saturday, my old friend Bonnie came down from Lincolnshire with her family on the Wednesday, a couple of the teachers from White Woman Lane School in Norwich came on the Thursday, and on Saturday the 26th February (my 44th birthday!) I had loads of visitors! My sister Cath and her husband Julian came, along with my sister Sue all the way from Wales! There was my old friends Anne and Ben Lyle and their lovely daughters Nell and Tilly, Michelle Coda and her chap Matt, plus cute daughter little Victoria, my lovely friend Ali Bessell and her sister Laura, her husband Steve and Ali and Laura's Mother! After I finished the last show on the Saturday I was going to announce to the crowd it was my birthday and maybe try and get them singing "Happy Birthday" - but I was out manoeuvred as Darlene Cavill, the wonderful events organiser at Leeds, had pre-empted me and led a large phalanx of staff from the Castle up the central aisle of the marquee brandishing champagne, a birthday cake and a massive card. For once I was mostly lost for words, until I said "bloody hell" quite loudly into my throat mic, which got one of the biggest laughs of the day. As usual everyone at the castle was so friendly and helpful - Becky Lander, Jeanne Beaton, the Cheeseman's, Adam, and just everyone who helped - I could not have done it without you.

So mostly it was good fun - there was one lady out of the hundreds who came to visit the show who complained to Darlene that my show was "unsuitable" for primary school children as I hadn't used any audio visual displays. Ah, so that is where I have been going wrong for the previous 700 shows I have done throughout the country. Also, on the morning of my birthday as I drove into Bearsted to buy some lunch for later on I was nearly challenged to a fight by a very aggressive lady. I was trying to turn into the small Tesco garage as she was trying to get out - but she was being partially blocked in by a very impatient man in a 4x4 with a trailer on the back. He had got so close to her she could hardly go forward or back. I gestured for him to move back, but he ignored me and I gestured for her to come out, but she made it clear she couldn't. Time was flying, so I drove away to the other smaller petrol station on the other side of the road. As I was walking towards the front door I heard a shout behind me.

"OI!" I turned round. It was the woman from the stuck car at the Tesco's forecourt. "Were you having a f***ing pop at me back there!?" She shrieked, stalking towards me with a deranged look in her eye. I decided to placate the mad cow.

"No, I was getting hacked off with the idiot in the 4x4 with the trailer behind you..." I began. She almost immediately nearly burst into tears.

"Oh, sorry!" She shrieked. "I've had such a stressed out morning... and then I got stuck in the front of Tesco's, and then..." She'd obviously had a bad morning. I was sorely tempted to lean out of the window as I drove off and shout "I REALLY WAS HAVING A POP AT YOU, YOU MAD DERANGED COW! HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!", but my gentlemanly side got the better of me.

Finally, to the lady who obviously reads this blog religiously - I got back to Stockbury for a cup of tea, then I drove up to Basildon for a cuddle or two with my son, and I am driving back to Crewkerne tomorrow. Glad you and your pink-haired friend enjoyed the final show - nice to see you!

Henry's Horrid History Part 1, plus lots of other things...

Lots of things have occurred since I last updated this blog, and though I am tired and aching for bed, I cannot let this opportunity go to get things "back on track" so to speak.

Last weekend I was in Wales spending a few precious restful days with my parents out in Newcastle Emlyn. We had a nice, brief couple of days, but managed to fit in a trip to the wonderful Harrison's Cafe in town and a trip to see my old friend Carole Evans (nee Davey) at her lovely pub/restaurant The Daffodil. I drove back to Somerset on the Monday. By Tuesday I was back up the A303 and M3 route back to Essex. I was to stay with my wife and son for a couple of days while I did a couple of shows in the south east. But not before a brief early morning appearance on Emma Britton's show on BBC Somerset. It was good fun to be back in the studio with her and we had a lively if predictable debate about dog mess... (Enough said really). From Taunton I headed straight up to Essex.

On the Wednesday it was a 5th return visit for me to Wickford Junior School in South Essex. This is a fabulous school, full of bright sparky children and some very cool teachers indeed! We had a fabulous day marred only by the grotty weather. A simply deafening jousting tournament finished the day off a treat with the inevitable victory for an excellent ladies team. This brings the score at the end of this day to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 19 LADIES

My son James went to his karate class on Wednesday evening and, despite this only being his third visit, he came away with his first badge for his kit. Amanda and I were so proud of him, and he was rather pleased with himself! I drove down to Kent on the Wednesday evening to stay with my sister Cathy near Sittingbourne.

Thursday I was back down to the Isle of Sheppey and Queenborough School. I had last visited here back in 2008, but it was so nice to be back. The staff and children at this school could literally not do enough for me. They were all so kind and helpful, and we had a really fun day all together as well, which makes life a bit easier! The final of the jousting in the afternoon was, as predicted, deafeningly loud and boisterous and resulted in the narrowest of victories for a very good gents team. Which finally brings us to half term and the score standing at:

GENTLEMEN 15 - 19 LADIES

All still to play for.

On the Friday I had a meeting over lunch at Leeds Castle with Darlene Cavill and her assistant Becky Lander with everything set up and ready for the off on the Saturday for Henry's Horrid History Show. Saturday morning dawned grey and miserable - the rain poured and the wind howled. My venue this time around is a very nice posh marquee erected near the maze and the Wykeham Martin Centre (if you know Leeds Castle!). It is heated, has a stage and seats about 170 people comfortably. My shows are at 11am, 1pm and 2.30pm each day. Today at 11am , there was not a soul to be seen as the rain hammered down and the wind moaned like Robert Smith with his finger caught in his guitar strap. So after an extended and unexpected bonus lunch break the show finally started at 1pm. We had about 50 people in, including my old friends Adam and Lisa Hudson, late of The Hoop Cricket Club with their two fine sons in tow. They seemed to really enjoy the show, especially when I "executed" Lisa in the Anne Boleyn section of the talk! It was great to see them all. The final show of the day only garnered about 25-30 people, but the forecast is a little better for tomorrow, so fingers crossed.

And now, finally, at long last...bed...

Westonzoyland & Ashcott

Good King Hal suddenly realising that the 2011 International Parrot Prodding Championships held at Barrington Court were missing one vital ingredient. Parrots. Who's a silly boy, then?

The drive back to Somerset on the Wednesday was quiet and uneventful. A little bit like England's international friendly against Denmark that evening, but at least we played quite well and won. Thursday the 10th found me at Westonzoyland up near Bridgwater. The last time I had visited this school was back in 2007 and I strongly remember sitting in the car outside the school and listening to England being trounced at Cricket on the radio by the Aussies. My how things have changed. (Actually I have just re-read my blog entry for back in 2007 and though England made a bad start we actually stuffed the Aussies in that match. My memory is obviously playing games with me!).

The weather for the visit this time was pretty much the same as my last visit - rain, rain and more rain. But the wonderful friendly school was there the same again! It was a biggish group of children with everyone from year 3 up to year 6. Some of the year 6 children remembered me from my previous visit back in 2007 - one of them it had been her birthday the last time I had been and I had sung "Happy Birthday" to her. She says how clearly she remembers it, but I assured her with the right prescription she could forget this horror. The day was excellent, lots of laughs, lots of Tudor silliness and good to be back with old friends again. After a very pleasant roast dinner lunch it was on with the show culminating in another win for the Gentlemen! This brings us to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 17 LADIES

More and more interesting.

The following day was an almost identical journey in pouring rain up to Ashcott School near to Bridgwater and Glastonbury. Now Ashcott was the very first school in Somerset I ever did way way back in the mists of time - or 2004 as it is now known. I had been here once since then, in 2008 and now here I was back in 2011. Another hugely warm welcome. It was a small group of children today, about 35, but what they lacked for in size they more than made up for in loudness and enthusiasm. The morning was cool - very silly and with some of the children showing remarkable depth of Tudor knowledge. One young lad I had been pre-warned about was hugely into dinosaurs and I was told that at some point he would try and introduce the subject of dinosaurs into the Tudor day - and he did! During our question time session he asked me if the Tudors knew about dinosaurs! Good lad. I grabbed some sandwiches from the local village shop and was then back on for the afternoon session. We had a visit from a photographer from the Western Gazette and then it was more jousting. Back to form this time. The ladies romped to a fine win. This now brings us to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 18 LADIES

I am off to Wales this weekend to see my parents and then back up to Essex next week for a return visit to Wickford Junior, then Queenborough School in Sheppey in Kent, then half term arrives and I begin my run at Leeds Castle.

White Woman Lane School

It was just before the swimwear section that some members of the judging panel started to suspect Miss Ukraine was not all she was cracked up to be...

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING BLOG ENTRY CONTAINS A BARELY CONTROLLED, ILL THOUGHT OUT CHILDISH RANT AND SHOULD NOT BE READ BY ANYONE...

I am surprised that somewhere called White Woman Lane School is allowed to exist anymore. Surely it should now be called "Caucasian (though not exclusively Ethnic majority) Non-Gender Specific Though Definitely NOT Phallo-Centric Lane Educational Collective". Or am I just sounding a bit world weary and cynical? Hardly surprising with all this horrible stuff called "politics" flying around at the moment. I just cannot be bothered with it currently. I seem to be constantly bombarded with messages from well meaning friends these days, either as emails or on Facebook, urging me to support this, or protest against that, or leap out of a 4th floor window dressed as Cardinal Richelieu whilst quoting the complete works of Marcel Proust before you plummet into the pavement below. And quite frankly, what is the point? It is either smug right wingers telling me we've all got to tighten our belts, work harder and save money (except if you're a banker of course) or fire brand left wingers telling me that unless I save a rain forest or hug a Muslim before tea time then I am no better than a child molester. ARGH! Just leave me alone! It doesn't matter what I say, think or do, nothing will ever change! There will always be them and us, and they'll always be in charge and have us by the you know whats.

Right, rant over! It was a fifth (or was it sixth?) return visit to the above mentioned White Woman Lane School. This is a lovely school in the northern suburbs of Norwich and is always a treat to return to. The same familiar and friendly faces greeted me from the teachers and all the children (about 75 of them) had pulled out all the stops and come in a fine selection of brilliant Tudor costumes, a lot of which were home made. The journey up was nice and relatively easy, and the early morning start was more enjoyable than it sometimes used to be as Sarah Kennedy has been replaced by Vanessa Feltz on early morning Radio 2. Now this may sound like the equivalent of announcing that you are delighted that bubonic plague has been replaced with a raging cholera epidemic, but trust me on this - if you are ever up early at some point, Ms Feltz is a massive improvement.

The morning session at the school was a raging success, and things went from strength to strength with a loud and raucous afternoon. It culminated with another great jousting tournament in which a fine ladies team forged into such a huge lead that the gents team just packed up halfway through, knowing they were well beaten! This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 17 LADIES

Wonderful stuff. I am driving back to Somerset tomorrow as Thursday and Friday this week I am at Westonzoyland and Ashcott in that county. Watch this space for their reports - and no more shouty-crackers ranting - promise.

Stapleford Abbotts

Stapleford Abbotts School with a big reminder written on the road outside as to whether the Government should shut the place or not.

Back in Essex again, but this time to visit a new school I hadn't done before. The weekend before had been nice and restful and combined such diverse delights as a breakfast at Bilby's in Crewkerne, Manchester City sticking three past West Bromwich Albion and then the even more delightful news that Manchester United had been well and truly stuffed by Wolves. Ah, life is full of such little joys every now and then. Meanwhile, back to Essex. I stayed in Basildon on the Sunday night but was then up relatively early for the short trip over to Stapleford Abbotts, near Romford. Stapleford Abbotts is one of these places I have always been aware of (I was born and brought up less than 10 miles from it) but had for some reason or another, never been to. It is in that sort of no-mans land of not quite rural Essex and not quite desolate disgusting Romford drabness that for some reason is remarkably appealing to Premiership Footballers - a group of people Charlie Brooker so cleverly described as the World's thickest millionaires.

The school in the village was very easy to find and a warm welcome awaited me - and a cup of tea! The hall out the back of this school is brand spanking new and has fabulous acoustics. It was only a half day today and a smallish group of just over 30 children. They were a bit over excited a the start, so I told them some of my best jokes, and that soon quietened them down a bit I can tell you. One lad in particular was hugely knowledgeable and seemed very excited about history in general. He'll probably become a plumber. After a quick break I then had to race through the rest of the morning with embarrassing haste as a posse of dinner ladies (or lunchtime helpers or "ingesting median sojourn operative facilitators" as we probably have to call them these days) swarmed at the other end of the dining hall and cast disparaging looks my way. We still managed to get a really good jousting tournament in which ended with another win for the gentlemen! They are really coming right back into this now. Our year long score now reads:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 16 LADIES

There will be another chance for them to close the gap further tomorrow when I am up at the crack of dawn again to head back for another return visit to White Woman Lane Junior School in Norfollk.

March 25th this year sees the first of what could prove to be a regular Hoop Cricket Club reunion. I used to play for the Hoop between 1991 and 1998, so I am looking forward to getting back there and meeting such a large group of old friends, that is if everyone turns up as they say they will.

Malvern Wells & Broadclyst

Peter Paul and Mary after an accident with a codpiece and a time machine. The man on the left used to frequently smash custard pies into Chris Tarrant's face. What a great bloke.

Now why is it, when you have to get up early you cannot get to sleep, yet when you have a day off you can't keep your eyes open? This happened to me on Wednesday night - I knew I had to get up pretty early as I had a nearly 2 hour drive to get up to Worcestershire and Malvern Wells for a visit to a school. However, whenever I put my head to the pillow for a snooze my brain would immediately start questioning me as to what the heck it thought I was doing. I was sorely tempted at one point to surrender and succumb to the "coma chair", but in the end that wasn't necessary.

Malvern Wells is a lovely area, pretty houses and delightful countryside. Malvern Wells school is pretty wonderful as well. The teachers are all lovely and friendly, none more so than the very pretty Ella Jones who had booked me. Now you really know when you're getting old when the teachers are closer in age to their pupils than they are to you! Ella was lovely - very friendly and helpful and was absolutely right when she stated how wonderful her class were. They were brilliant, quick witted, and a delight to work with from start to finish. The only problem I had with the school was finding somewhere to get changed! There was a toilet down near the hall where I was working, but it was so small I couldn't even get my suitcase in it, let alone my not inconsiderable bulk. In the end I had to use a kitchen, but it only had a sort of half sized cottage door on it, so I had to make doubly sure no one was around before I started whipping my gear off. The afternoon was brilliant and ended with another thrilling jousting tournament, finally culminating in a long waited for win the for the Gentlemen.

GENTLEMEN 11 - 15 LADIES

That helped the gents score a lot. It has been a long time since I had visited a new school and had such a good time before, but Malvern Wells was a big hit with me! Great stuff. The drive back wasn't too bad either, but I had to be up early the following morning as well - not as early as for the Malvern visit.

Today I was on my way down to Devon and another visit to a new school - Broadclyst Junior School just outside Exeter. They had heard about me from reading about my frequent visits to the Maynard School. The day today was going to be distinctly odd - firstly I wouldn't be in the school as they no longer have a hall at Broadclyst. So instead I found myself setting up in the village hall just round the corner. (And boy, what a village hall! Delightful, gleaming and looking like it has only just been renovated!) Added to which I was doing two completely different groups in the day. In the morning I would be with a combined year 5 & 6 group, while in the afternoon I would have a combined year 2 & 3 group. The morning was with about 120 children, and it was superb! The children were funny, sharp, and just as with it as the Malvern children had been the day before! Wonderful stuff. Loads of laughs and they even videoed a large part of my performance which they are promising to send to me. I'll see if I can upload some of it to this blog or the website. The morning finished with a pulsating tournament that ended with yet another win for the ladies.

GENTLEMEN 11 - 16 LADIES

Just when the gents thought they were getting back into it...

The afternoon session was a bit more of a slog, as (a) I was tired by now and my cold addled throat wasn't very happy about being used again, and (b) being only years 2 & 3 the group were quite immature after the older group of the morning, and consequently were more hard work. But it was still fun and loads of laughs. And just to keep an even keel - the gents won the afternoon jousting!

GENTLEMEN 12 - 16 LADIES

How exciting is this getting? OK, not at all, but I don't care!

I have tomorrow to myself (a real rarity) then I am driving up to Essex on Sunday. I have a couple of days in the south east next week, then back to Somerset for two more days down here.

Redstart School, Chard

The above picture is either (a) Good King Hal whacking his head on a low roof, or (b) proof that he has a halo. Please send your answer, with a £50 note to: Good King Hal, The South of France Villa Appeal, Knackers Row, Catford, near England.

For all the long distance staggering about I do, occasionally (just occasionally) I get a really local show. So local in fact, that it is the travelling equivalent of opening your front door and simply falling forward onto your face. This was that toppling forward. I first went to Redstart School in Chard about six years ago - then never heard from them until about six months ago. I went and did a Tudor day with them, and here I was much less than a year later being invited back. It's like waiting for a bus. Six years and nothing, then two come along at once.

Redstart is a lovely school. The children were terrific, great fun and in some brilliant little Tudor costumes. All of the staff and the teachers were a delight and couldn't do enough for me, almost to the point of waiting on me hand and foot. I am not complaining, honestly, just ever so slightly embarrassing. It was a year 4 group today and they were at the very beginning ominously quiet, and I wondered if the day was going to be difficult. But they soon warmed up and were a delight to work with. Loads of laughs, some great Tudor knowledge and a nice relaxed air with everyone just enjoying the day.

I had a lovely lunch with my dinner being brought to me in the staff room by a poor lady with a bad back - she was in great pain but insisted on getting the meal for me. Didn't she know I wasn't a real King??? The air was so relaxed and convivial in the staff room that I very nearly drifted off into a peaceful sleep - but just managed to catch myself before I started snoring.

The afternoon was great fun. The kids just loved the stocks session, bless 'em, and then the jousting was an absolute classic. Two very good teams, who could have quite easily won any other school visit I had done, but it was, rather inevitably, the Ladies who romped away for a very good victory. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 15 LADIES

The boys are beginning to be left behind. This could get very one sided. I am next back on the road tomorrow morning with a first visit to a school in Worcestershire with a visit to Malvern Wells School in....er.... Malvern Wells. An early start.... YAWN.

Something Old, Something New....

Good King Hal, taking part in one of his favourite pass-times - international pro-celebrity wench hugging. He is now up to Olympic standard and is rapidly going blind.

And so it was to be back on the road again, two visits coming up, one in Essex and one in Hertfordshire. My first trip was on the Wednesday with a return visit to Tolleshunt D'arcy, the wonderfully named village near Maldon in Essex. I hadn't visited this school (St Nicholas') for a couple of years, but it was nice to be back. The trip to the school was entertaining, but not in a very nice way. My sat nav, halfway out of Basildon (where I was staying) suddenly decided to just freeze up completely. I tried turning it on and off but all to no avail, it would not pick up the route I needed. In the end I had to remove the data chip and put it back in making the whole system re-boot. But it seemed to work, the sat nav picked up the route again, only to then lose it again. And again, and again. Over and over it kept losing the satellites. It was a wonder I made it to the school at all! But I did. It was nice to see the teachers I had worked with before, including the glamorous TA who was a dead spit for the gorgeous Linda Lusardi! It was a small year three group, which was hard work occasionally, but most of the time they were a good, lively group and seemed to thoroughly enjoy their day with the King. The jousting was a lively affair and finally culminated in a long overdue victory for the Gentlemen! This made the score:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 13 LADIES

I left, and then encountered more problems with the ****ing sat nav. My predicament was not helped by the A414 down to Danbury and the A12 (my route home) was shut for no adequately explained reason. With the sat nav badly mis-firing I had to find my own way home. I eventually drove out back to the A12 via Hatfield Peverell. I was very glad to be home. That evening my wife and I took James (my lovely son) off to his karate lesson - this was only his second lesson, but he seemed to really enjoy himself. They certainly keep them moving there and by the time we got him home he was cream crackered!

The following morning I was up very early for a drive up to Ware in Hertfordshire for a visit to St Mary's Junior School. I was not sure how well my sat nav would behave so I took along a spare unit, quite an elderly one, that my wife has acquired as a sort of "belt and braces" approach. Typically, just when you thought it would be a day of frequently re-booting my sat nav, it worked perfectly. I got to the school very early, so decided to go off and find some petrol so I wouldn't have to stop on the way home. Apparently, they have never heard of petrol stations in Ware. I drove round and round and round, and eventually was forced to use the naughty sat nav and ended up driving nearly half way to Hertford before I found one. Mind you, it turned out to be worth it as the very attractive young lady who served me also turned out to be gobsmackingly dim as well, as she only charged me for my petrol and not the sandwich and drink I had bought for breakfast. The actual Tudor Day itself at St Mary's was a delight. This is a lovely school - great kids, lovely teachers and a warm friendly atmosphere throughout. It was a memorable first visit and a delight from start to finish. The jousting was a rollicking affair with so much noise. But a seemingly small and unsure ladies team stormed through to a remarkable victory! This now brings the latest score as:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 14 LADIES

I have a couple of days with my lovely son in Essex now, before heading back to Somerset this weekend. My next Henry appearance will be at Redstart Primary in Chard on Tuesday. I am looking forward to it! Oh, and there is talk of a Hoop Cricket Club reunion sometime soon - watch this space.

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.