Male Modelling and Cotford St Luke x 2!

All the jokes used by this man are genuine, hand-stitched, leather antiques and have been carefully assembled by aged stand up comedians in a small lock-up garage in East Cheam.

Me? Being a model? A male model? That is just wrong. It goes against all that is right in nature. It's like Bernard Manning hang-gliding, or Dale Winton playing professional rugby league, or George Osborne proving he knows what the hell he is talking about. It is all highly unlikely. But happen it did. And where was this, I hear you murmur, with barely suppressed excitement? A photo shoot in LA for Cosmopolitan Magazine? A new calendar shoot in St Tropez? No. It was the slightly humbler surroundings of Shepton Beauchamp village hall and I was sitting in my full Henry regalia posing for the Shepton Beauchamp Art Group! It was a very pleasant evening in the end, lots of giggles, laughs, a nice cup of tea or two, and at the end of the day a bit of money and a very nice bottle of Australian Shiraz as a thank you. It had been organised by Jo Walshe, post mistress at Shepton Beauchamp post office and stores and I have to say her pencil drawings of me were very good, but then so were most of the artwork produced on the evening. What a talented bunch. This was last Friday.

After a terribly exciting weekend of doing the sum total of bugger all, it was back to being Henry again on the Monday morning. I was being summoned back to Cotford St Luke School near Taunton. Now I had last visited this school back in 2006 when I did a couple of days there a few months apart doing a big group of children. This time they wanted me on two separate days, but right next to each other. So I would be at Cotford on the Monday and the Tuesday. Getting to Cotford is no easy thing as you have to drive right through the middle of Taunton, which as I might just have mentioned in this blog on one or two previous occasions, can be about as easy as trying to excavate a new channel tunnel using a small white plastic tea spoon. However on both mornings Taunton's traffic was in a very benign mood, and I sailed through to the quiet leafy lanes that make up Cotford St Luke. I was warmly welcomed on the first morning by the caretaker, a happy smiley Hobbit of a man and I was soon set up in the big impressive, but squeaky floored hall. On the first day I would be working with a mainly mixture of years 3 and 4, then on the Tuesday I would finish off with years 5 and 6. The group on day one were the most hard work as there were one or two little "characters" in their midst - nothing more than a little bit of immaturity, but on the whole a very very pleasant group. Plenty of laughs in the morning were had, with the children as well as the very friendly welcoming teachers. Lunch was a delicious chicken korma curry, but all too soon it was back to the hall for the afternoon. The jousting was of a very high quality and (wait for it) ended with a win for.... the Gents! At last! This pegs the ladies back a bit to:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 24 LADIES

But there is still so much to do. At the end of the day I didn't have to pack the props back in the car, I just stowed them away in a class room ready for the next day...

Back on the road to Cotford St Luke on the Tuesday, this was almost like Groundhog Day. Taunton was again a placid place of no hold ups and it was back to the lovely school. Todays group of years 5 and 6 were great - really good fun, very intelligent, bright, sparky children, the sort of group that makes you want to come back and be Henry VIII over and over again. Cotford St Luke is a magnificent school! It was another great day - a good morning of many laughs, a lovely lunch of baked potato and sausages, and then back into the hall for more stocks and jousting shenanigans. And just to make the Groundhog Day simile come to full fruition, the Gents won the jousting AGAIN. You wait weeks for one, then two come along in two days. The score slowly clicks over to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 24 LADIES

There is one very tired King here this evening, his Royal plates are about to be put up for a well deserved rest. Thank you, Cotford for two very memorable days. Sadly, I probably won't see you again until 2018 if the wait between visits is the same! Now that is just too long...

St Michael's School, Wimborne AND Julian Richards

Good King Hal, as he appears on the brand spanking new time line wall mural at St Michael's School in Wimborne.

After the fun and games of visiting Broughton Astley again, it was back to visit one of my longest standing regular schools: St Michael's School in Wimborne in Dorset. This was to be my eighth annual visit, and as ever it was a delight, full of fun, laughter and one or two surprises. The school had recently had a new time line wall mural painted by a local artist, who also happens to be a mother to one of the pupils, and I had been pre-warned that I would be requested to take part in the morning school assembly and then also help with the "opening" of the mural for the press. So after an opening hour of my usual Henry day with the children, I was whisked out the hall as they brought the rest of the school pupils in for the assembly. In the staff room I was introduced to the other special guests for the day - namely the artist herself, and Professor Julian Richards, often seen presenting such historic TV programmes as "Meet the Ancestors". What a nice bloke!

The three of us were wheeled into the packed hall and sat on chairs at the front, where we were then given a thorough press conference by the children. Tremendous fun. Next we walked through to the mural itself where press photographers were waiting for us to pose like mad with a ribbon and some scissors. And then we were done! The school had it's new impressive mural, Julian Richards had met Henry VIII and I was back to the rest of the Tudor day with year 5.

It was a very big group today, about 120 children, but they were all magnificent, great costumes and lots of fun. It was nice to see regular teacher Jane Eyre back at the school after her brave year working for the VSO out in West Africa. Welcome back! Well the rest of the morning was good fun and very silly - as it always should be! Lunch was a very pleasant roast chicken dinner in the as ever laughter filled staff room.

Back to the Tudor shenanigans for the afternoon, and with such a big group we had a deafening jousting tournament. The gents team went into the final looking very good and very confident, as well they should as they trounced their opposition in the semi final. However, the gents luck is really not running their way at the moment in the finals, and so it proved again, as once more the ladies simply walked off with a very comfortable win. Amazing. Our score is now:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 24 LADIES

There is just no stopping them!

I am back to being Henry on Friday night as I am posing as a life model (with clothes on you'll be relieved to hear) for the Shepton Beauchamp arts group! My next school visits are Monday and Tuesday next week with two days back at Cotford St Luke near Taunton.

Orchard School, Broughton Astley

An artists impression of Justin Timberlake. The artist was then sacked.

The last time I had visited the Orchard School in Broughton Astley in Leicestershire, I made loads of unnecessarily childish jokes about Rick Astley. I promise wholeheartedly not to do the same thing again. Much...

I drove up to the Midlands on the Monday, for another visit to another wonderful, exciting, brilliant Travelodge. This time in Nuneaton! I got to the hotel at about 4pm and by 4.08pm I had exhausted the entertainment possibilities available to me. I had switched the lights on and off in the bathroom. I had laid on the bed in every conceivable compass point, and I had pulled and opened the curtains. There was nothing else for it - I was going to have to prepare for dinner in the evening. Slap bang next door to the Travelodge was a Harvester Inn. Now I am not a big fan of Harvesters at the best of times - they are to traditional English pubs what the Luftwaffe was to East End redevelopment. I went over just after 6pm and was amazed to find, on this Monday night, that the place was just one huge heaving mass of humanity. Is there nothing else to do in Nuneaton? Apparently not. I sat in the bar and ordered a large glass of Shiraz. It came to just shy of £5. Cripes. Harvesters always bang on about how good their steaks are, and as I don't normally eat steaks when I am out I thought I would give one of them a bash. I ordered a Sirloin steak, which I like to have well done. I am really not a fan of rare steaks - a plate awash with blood does not really get the old taste buds pulsing for me. My motto is never to eat anything that looks like a gunshot wound. Anyway, I asked for my steak to be well done and boy did they do that. When it arrived it looked like a piece of vulcanised rubber that had been caught in a flow of scalding hot magma, had then been rescued and for some unexplained reason had then been fired out of a howitzer on a number of occasions. All this and a spoonful of bullet-like peas and 24 chips (I counted them). £15.00. Good job I was hungry.

After a good nights sleep I was soon off to Broughton Astley. It was so nice to be back, warmly welcomed by all the lovely staff. Just as on my previous visit all of the staff and all of the children had dressed up in brilliant costumes. The morning was great fun - when I was doing the music section I played, as always, a brief version of Greensleeves, just as that is what everyone expects. Just before I played the piece I asked (again, as always) which piece of music is most commonly associated with Henry VIII. Today I was told by one little boy that it was the Main Theme from Star Wars. Brilliant. After a lovely lunch of baked potato and salad, it was back to the hall for more nonsense. The stocks were rigged so that one particular classroom assistant, who's 50th birthday is imminent, was set up to go in them! After that the jousting was bound to be good, and it was. And guess what - the ladies won AGAIN. Our score is now:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 23 LADIES

Where will it all end? The drive home was mostly trouble free and I was back at the flat by just after 6pm.

A nice quiet evening will be followed tomorrow for my eighth annual visit to St Michael's School in Wimborne in Dorset. I am due to meet Julian Richards, archaeologist and former presenter of the BBC TV series "Meet the Ancestors" as he will be at the school at the same time. I told my Mother this evening on the phone I would be meeting him - she was bitterly disappointed that it wasn't Neil Oliver from "Coast" as I think she has a bit of a soft spot for him. I told her he is next on my "to do" list. Hmmmmm, perhaps I'd better re-phrase that...

St James' School, Cheltenham

All England fruit bottling supremo, Egbert Lunge, whilst on a fact finding mission to the Seychelles, falls under the microscopic scrutiny of Kenyan bog-snorkelling champion, Loretta Goes-Nicely. In a tender flash back at the El Morocco Tea Rooms in Sleaford, Egbert reveals he is not a natural blonde, before enforcing the follow on. Shortly, despotic rhythm guitarist, "Dangerous" Malcolm Discharge, bowling unchanged from the Gas Works End, sings a moving version of "I Stuck My Finger in a Woodpecker's Hole" before bad light stopped play. Now, read on....

OK, it's March, right? March as in "not February", as in "not winter"? Yeah? OK, so I am driving back from Essex on Sunday, at about lunch time and I am driving down the A303 across Salisbury Plain - and it starts snowing. SNOWING! S-N-NOOOOOO-WING! ARGH! I should write to The Times about this. This pleased me not as I knew I was going to have to get up very early on the Monday morning for a drive up to Cheltenham in Gloucestershire, and I really didn't fancy doing that through snow storms. However, I had nothing to fear. By the time I got to the tropical climes of South Somerset, the outside temperature had rocketed up to nearly 7 degrees. Mind you, it was still a bit of a shock to the system when my alarm went off at 5.30 this morning. I wonder if Ernest Shackleton ever had worries like this?

The drive up to Cheltenham was actually very pleasant. It was a cold, but very clear morning, and the roads were relative empty. I was making a first ever visit to St James' School in Cheltenham and when I found the address it looked very nice, the school nestling in amongst a very attractive new housing complex. I was extremely warmly welcomed and handed a very cheering cup of tea. This was lovely as I am suffering with a somewhat unpleasant cold at the moment and a hot tea went down a treat. It was a group of over 80 children today in a mixed years 3 and 4 set up. But they were very switched on, very excitable and good fun to work with. The main teacher who had booked me, a simply charming gentleman by the name of Duncan Cook, could not have been more helpful, but then all the staff were very wonderful today. The morning seemed to shoot past at an express rate and before you could say "blimey, what the heck was that?" it was lunch time. I was treated to a very tasty plate of spaghetti and meatballs before heading back to the hall for the afternoon session. More fun with the stocks and then it was on to a very entertaining and interesting jousting tournament. In the grand final it finally looked like the gents were going to claim a much needed win as their first two riders streaked off into a seemingly unbeatable lead. But the ladies would not be denied and clawed back the difference. It was going to come down to the final quoit but the gents, in their haste and desire to claim a win virtually pushed the last quoit onto their riders lance. I had no option but to stop the race, re-hook two singular quoits and let the two teams have a race-off... and would you believe it - the ladies won AGAIN. Our score now moves on to an almost embarrassingly one sided:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 22 LADIES

This is getting too much lads - come on! Must do better! I packed up my stuff and was soon in the car, coughing and sneezing my way down the M5 and home. A nice dinner and pint of Tanglefoot, and all of a sudden my cold doesn't seem as bad as I first thought. It was lovely to visit St James' School today, and I sincerely hope Mr Cook's daughter gets well again soon.

All Saints, Wouldham

Finally, Good King Hal gets exactly what he wanted for Christmas. Sadly, he'd broken both of them by Boxing Day, and himself.

Another half day for the King today. I was in Essex with my delightful little boy, but had to be up relatively early for a morning jaunt down over the jolly old Dartford crossing to Kent for a visit to All Saints School in the village/town Wouldham. The drive didn't start with any great pleasure as there was dense fog everywhere which gave the journey the feeling of trying to drive through thick cold porridge. I was also surrounded by lots of thick cold fellow drivers as well.

The school in Wouldham is situated down a small side lane, and apparently was first used in about 1867, which does rather beg the question as to who thought it would be a jolly whizz to build an enormous, ominously throbbing electricity sub station right next door to the school. It certainly wouldn't have been there before 1867, unless Kent is far more advanced than we had previously given them credit for.

Anyway, it was a lovely half day, working with all the Key Stage 2 pupils - a cross section of years 3, 4, 5 and 6, a total of about 60 children. The teachers and staff were a delight to work with and we had plenty of laughs. The jousting at the end was somewhat disrupted by the arrival of the dinner ladies and so the tournament had to conclude outside in the playground, which was fine for me in all my robes, but some of the teachers and children looked a tad chilly. It was a good natured and well fought tournament that culminated in a win for the ladies yet again. They are trouncing the lads this year. Our latest score is now:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 21 LADIES

The gents will get another chance to try and pin back the ladies and their juggernaut of success this Monday when I am up in Cheltenham for a visit to a school up there. I will be in Essex until Sunday when I shall once more drive down the A303 to home. I am pretty sure one of these days I will notice that I have worn a groove in the tarmac on it.

Redstart

An enormous Tudor edifice. And in the background, you might just be able to see Leeds Castle as well.

And so the dust came to settle after the birthday party weekend. It was quite a come down for me, the whole weekend having been such a success. On the Tuesday night I went back to the Phelips Arms Pub in Montacute for their monthly pub quiz. I had last entered this a couple of months back and our team had steam-rollered the opposition, so I returned feeling quite confident. I was on the same team and Rachel Brewer, her other half Anthony and our mutual friend Sarah Kennedy, among others. We started off well and led from the very first round, but the final round (naming different ropes and sails on a Brig) proved to be our Achilles heel and we lost by just half of one point to finish second. Not good!

I was up relatively early on the Wednesday for my first Henry show for a little while. This was a return visit to Redstart School in Chard, so literally just down the road. It was a morning only with a group of about 60 children, and they were all absolutely brilliant - decked out in fabulous Tudor costumes and full of enthusiasm. The teachers took loads of photos and we finished the half day with a great jousting tournament which culminated in the inevitable victory for the ladies team. Our ongoing year long score now comes to:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 20 LADIES

This is getting a bit one sided lads, so come on!

Tomorrow I drive to Essex for a show on the Friday down in Kent. So watch this space for another blog then. And so back to the mountain of cup cakes left from the party. This surely can't be doing my diet any good. But I will do my best.

A Right Royal Knees Up

The true horror of the initiation ceremony for the Knights of Royal England was finally made public. The queue to join suddenly leaped from 3 to nearly 5.

Close friends and family, from across the country, were summoned to South Somerset for a very important reason. It was my birthday party! It's actually my birthday today, but frankly, apart from jobbing actors in the West End, no one has parties on a Sunday, so my 45th birthday thrash was to take place on February 25th 2012 at Barrington Village Hall. For once I was not to be dressed as Henry VIII at a party which was a relief. Music and sound was supplied by Party Tyme Entertainments, run by my mate Robbie Strickland from Stoke sub Hamdon, plus there would be a chance at the party for people to get up and do a song or two if they wished. Also we would be having a whip round to collect money for the National Autism Society and... well, just have a bit of fun! Lots of people chipped in with food and drink - my lovely friend Lisa Head (who I used to work with at Skandia in Southampton) was baking some cup cakes and bringing them with her. And they were fantastic - vanilla and chocolate, and just mind blowingly good.

Well the evening was a bit of a riot, mostly thanks to the Knights of Royal England, who turned up en masse, and made a pretty good party a quite staggeringly brilliant party. I kicked off the singing on stage by murdering "Fireflies" by Owl City, and then after a few crap jokes I sang "Chocolate Girl" by Deacon Blue in deference to the aforementioned, deeply wonderful Lisa Head. The Knights did a few songs, including an a capella version of "I'm Henry the Eighth I Am" with an impromptu "Full Monty" strip section, as you can see in the photo above. We ended the evening with wild singalongs to Guns N Roses, Green Day, Queen and a variety of others, and I had a splendid old time playing air guitar and singing The Boys are Back in Town with the deeply wonderful and insane Roland Bearne. Great stuff! The collected money came to about £220, which I shall bump up a bit more and then send a cheque off to the National Autism Society. I hope they'll be happy. We also had a jousting tournament, like in the schools, only this time with various plastered adults riding the hobby horses - most of the Knights of Royal England took part - and were soundly thrashed by a group of ordinary punters! Wonderful.

It was a truly legendary evening - made all the more special by having so many dear close friends and family with me. Thank you to all of you for your efforts to get there and support the evening. Today, I feel like I have just taken a punishment beating from the IRA, with aching knees and ankles (too much dancing), but it is definitely worth it. I can honestly say, it is the best party I have ever hosted. However, I think I now ought to go and have a long lie down in a dark room. Good night!

Half Term Happiness

It was at approximately 11.45am that Good King Hal whipped out his big wooden trencher out and startled everyone.

Half term! Hoorah! What does half term normally entail for your average King Henry VIII impersonator? Well, to be honest, not a lot. With the schools all closed it usually involves lie ins and late nights, but this year the February half term was a bit different. For a start I had my lovely son James staying with me down in Somerset. Secondly I had a show to do at the Dementia Care Trust Home in Weston super Mare where I had appeared about four years ago.

It was funny - I had asked James what he was most looking forward to on his return to his county of birth, thinking he'd come back with something about "being with you, Daddy" or "a visit to Lyme Regis" or some such. Did I get that? Did I heck. What was he most looking forward to? Lunch at Bilby's Cafe in Ilminster. Well at least he has good taste in local food outlets. He and I drove down to Somerset on the Saturday, along with my sister Cathy who we picked up from her home in Kent as she wanted dropping off in Southampton to collect a new car she had bought from the Ebay website. She treated us, if that is the right word, to lunch on the way, which ended up being taken at the Rounham's service station on the M27. The food was, at best school dinner level and served by the sort of people you would imagine that if you asked them to follow your finger in front of their eyes, they'd be about two seconds behind. We found the home where the car was to be collected and waited with Cathy till she'd paid and then led her to the nearest petrol station that sold LPG for her new vehicle. Turned out it didn't sell LPG, but never mind, the thought was there. So as Cathy and her new Jeep Grand Cherokee headed east back to Kent, James and I continued west towards Somerset.

We had a nice lazy Sunday not doing very much other than watching Spongebob Squarepants endlessly on Nick Toons. On the Monday I fulfilled my promise to James and took him to Bilby's in Ilminster for lunch. Unfortunately, James' new medication for his concentration can also wreck his appetite, which it did on Monday. So while I sat and munched my way through ham, egg and chips (very healthy), James simply sat happily slurping from a bottle of diet coke.

Tuesday saw us up and early off for the show at the Dementia Care Trust in Weston super Mare. They are a lovely group and I am always made most welcome there - particularly from my dear old friend Diane Warren and her daughter Alice. James worked hard as my roadie helping me get my gear into the unit and waiting with me as I got changed. The talk went really well, and James sat happily with Diane throughout the show and even laughed quite loudly at a couple of my jokes. When the show was over James came up to me and said "you told some jokes!" as though it was illegal. I told him that I always try and make my shows funny, which he thought was marvellous.

Wednesday and I fulfilled another promise to James - to take him to see Star Wars - The Phantom Menace in 3D. We got into Yeovil quite early and I purchased the tickets for the 2.20pm showing. Next it was time for lunch and James wanted to go to Pizza Hut. Not a chance - a queue of Biblical proportions snaked out of the front door and down the road. OK, I was not heartbroken by this news, so we tried to get into Frankie and Bennie's, with pretty much the same result. Fair enough. About 20 yards up the road is a small Italian restaurant called La Tamboura or something - we walked down there, and it was virtually empty! We had a superb meal of real Italian food with a very hard working friendly staff who could not have been more attentive if they tried. After that blow out we wandered back to the cinema. OH MY GOD. It appeared that there had been an explosion in a "spotty-bed-haired-annoying-teenager-factory" somewhere and they had all landed in the cinema foyer. The queue for the ticket booth snaked right across the entrance hall and the queue for the popcorn was only marginally shorter. As we already had tickets we joined the popcorn queue. The huge amounts of spotty adolescents in the line was matched only by the spotty adolescents behind the counters who seemed to be content on finding anything to do other than serve the ever swelling crowd in front of them. Time was whizzing past and the queue was barely moving. With only about 5 minutes before the film was due to start, we finally got served. A small bag of popcorn and slush puppy for James, a small diet coke (small? It was about the size of your average garden water butt) and a packet of wine gums for me and it cost over £12. How on Earth can they justify these prices? Anyway, we belted into the screen where Star Wars was showing, expecting it to be chock full of the annoying adolescents to find the room almost completely empty - they'd all obviously come to see Daniel Radcliffe in "The Woman in Black", and I was insanely jealous. The Phantom Menace, not to put too fine a point on it, is a truly appalling film. Terrible script, abject plotting, half formed characters, stilted dialogue and of course Jah-Jah f*****g Binks. I put my 3D glasses on and promptly fell asleep until James elbowed me for snoring too loudly. The film seemed to go on forever, but James loved it, so that is all that matters.

So today, Thursday I am driving the little fellow back to Essex. I will thoroughly enjoy having my bed back to myself, but by God the flat (and my life) is going to feel very empty without him around. He is so gorgeous and my pride and joy. I can't spend enough time with him!

Brass Monkeys In Norwich and West Wimbledon

Three Little Maids From School Are We, sung in middle English and with baggy tights on. It was never really going to bother the charts, was it?

Just when you think you've managed to escape from the whole of winter with barely a frost bitten appendage to worry about and - WALLOP - Snow. Horrid, white, freezing, slippery, slidey, time consuming, ankle breaking snow. And some people pay good money to travel the world looking for the ruddy stuff. They want locking up. Now, down in Somerset we're very smart, we don't hold with all this snow nonsense. Even while the rest of the country at the beginning of the week was ranting and raving about snow storms and travel chaos, in Somerset it was a balmy 8-9 degrees, and also dry and sunny. I was due for a drive to the south east for shows in Norwich and West Wimbledon, and to be honest I wasn't sure what to expect.

To begin with all was fine. I drove up the A303 and there was not a sign of any snow or ice, and it continued this happy way until I reached roughly the Andover area, and then various bits of melting snow were spotted in fields. Then towards the end of the A303 there was more and more, clearly a lot had fallen. By the time I got to that mighty metropolis of the east (Basildon to you and me), there was loads of snow everywhere. There was little or no more snow promised, but by heck it was cold. After a nice cuddly evening with my lovely son, I was up at a piercingly cold 5.30am for a drive up to Norwich and return visit to White Woman Lane School. The journey was pretty awful I have to say, not because of the weather, but of the extreme cold and the pathological terror the mere mention of ice seems to breed in some drivers. Queues of slow moving traffic were everywhere, most of them stacked up behind petrified Ford Mondeo drivers, gripping their steering wheels with white knuckled hands and barely getting much above 35 MPH, even on gun barrel straight, well salted, ice-free roads. The two hour journey eventually took me much nearer three hours to complete. But it was worth it, as White Woman Lane School is just so nice! Wonderful funny kids, genuinely lovely teachers and a guaranteed warm welcomed whenever I go - and some of the staff came all the way down to Kent to see me perform Henry's Horrid History last February. Above and beyond the call of duty chaps, seriously...

It was a fun, loud and laughter filled day. A particularly popular gag I did was about a Tudor version of the Teletubbies, with characters like Choppy-Woppy and Leechy, however all the gags seemed to go tremendously well and the kids were genuinely eager to learn more and more about Henry and the Tudors. The apres-lunch stocks session was an absolute blast, and in the jousting we finally managed to secure a win for the Gentlemen, the first time it seems in ages. Our score after Norwich was therefore:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 18 LADIES

Originally I was then due to have the Wednesday daytime off and then travel to West Wimbledon and a visit to St Matthew's Primary School on the Thursday, but at the last minute St Matthew's decided to swap their day and go for the Wednesday. So I found myself once again rising at the crack of dawn in freezing cold weather and heading round the M25, then up through the frightfully pleasant Esher and into the Wimbledon area. I was welcomed by an absolutely charming young lady called Katie Barnham and introduced to this school I had never visited before. Again, as with so many schools I visit, the overall welcome from all the staff could not have been kinder, warmer or more generous. It genuinely felt like I was an old returning friend, not some first time visitor, particularly one clad in white tights. It was only a relatively small group on the day - 29 children, but their lack of numbers was easily out-weighed by their enthusiasm, noise level and enjoyment of the day. It was a real pleasure to work with such switched on, intelligent and well behaved children. Katie Barnham has a smashing class, and I don't just say that about everyone! Lunch was a truly delicious roast beef dinner and we had a slightly curtailed afternoon to let me get away and attempt to beat the M25 rush back to an appointment in Essex. And it worked! The jousting was great though, very exciting and loud, but won by a superb ladies team (again!), which brings the score back again to it's current position of:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 19 LADIES

Back in the old routine, eh?

I am in Essex now until Saturday, then will pick up my lovely son and drive him down to Somerset for the half term holiday. I am doing a private party in Weston-super-Mare on Tuesday, but the rest of the week I am all his, so I hope we have some great fun.

Coalway Junior, Coleford

Good King Hal on the first day of shooting Guy Ritchie's new movie "Lock Stocks Pillory and Two Smoking Leeches", shortly before getting a bit medieval and "tasty" on Little Danny Dyer. And who can blame him.

Gad, it's cold! Frost on my codpiece and all other extremities are a reminder that the winter has not quite finished with us yet. The week started on a warm note though when I drove down to Southampton on the Monday night with the promise of dinner cooked for me by my old ex-Skandia colleague, Lisa Head. She cooked a fabulous meal and finished it off with home made bizarrely flavour cup cakes. How bizarre, you ask? Chocolate and bacon. Yes... bacon. And do you know what? It really worked! Delicious. Just don't tell my Rabbi, or my dietitian. Tuesday was a day spent catching up on emails and paperwork (and sitting eating a sandwich and watching "Bargain Hunt" just don't tell everyone about my wild and exciting lifestyle).

But today was Wednesday and that meant one thing - up at the crack of dawn on a very crisp frosty morning for a drive up to Gloucestershire and a visit to Coalway Junior School in Coleford. This was my 8th visit to this lovely school, and as ever it was an absolute delight to come back. Coalway is, amazingly, exactly 100 miles from my flat - door to door, and I managed to arrive at their august portals at just after 8am this morning. It was bright and sunny by now, but piercingly cold. I was set up to go in the hall, the main idea being that the children would be sat down with their backs to me when I first went in the hall, then I could shout and make them all jump. And it worked a treat! The morning went swimmingly with a group of about 60 children, all of whom were hugely enthusiastic, apart from one young lady who spent the whole morning either sucking her thumb or with her hands clamped over her ears, but even she perked up a bit in the afternoon.

One of the best things about visiting Coalway is the teachers and staff - they are all absolutely lovely, and the lunch and tea breaks in the staff room are always loud and laughter filled, and today was no exception. The afternoon was even more hilarious and we had a visit from the local newspaper who took a pile of photos of the kids and myself mucking about with the stocks, and another set of me sitting with a little lad in wheelchair as he posed with some of the jousting equipment. As for the joust - rip-roaring stuff! Very loud, but not particularly close. A brilliant ladies team simply blew away the gents team. This makes the score look very ominous for the gents now. It says:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 18 LADIES

Is there no stopping them? Probably not, but watch this space for more updates and reports.

Finally, on a sad note, I would like to get all my friends and colleagues to send good thoughts and best wishes to my old friend Anne Edwards who I used to work with at The London Borough of Newham back in the late 80's. Anne is currently hospitalised after suffering a stroke and faces a long and difficult path back to good health again, so please if you know her or would just like to send good thoughts and prayers, if that is your bag, then please do. Many thanks.

Here There and Everywhere.

Some of Manchester City's recent signings were a little surprising, but the new first XI seemed to be shaping up well.

Well, my dear old Blog appears to be working again, especially if you're actually able to read this, which I hope you are. So after rattling up and down the A303 and the A12 in Essex and Suffolk, and all points north towards Norwich last week, I was now back down in deepest darkest Devon for yet another return visit to Blundell's Prep School in Tiverton. I had been to this school so many times in the past, but it was different this time - for a start there was no Steff Jeffs. She has departed to pastures new, wearing a Dog collar and saving souls. There was also no Nick Folland as head teacher as he has now moved on. I met the new head teacher on my arrival first thing in the morning. I know I am getting old when head teachers start looking so YOUNG.

Blundells is a lovely school and I was very warmly welcomed by all the staff as ever. It was a nice group of children as well, and we spent the morning first of all in the main hall, before swapping back to the Drama studio for the final part of the morning. Lunch was a delicious chicken curry which was spent chatting to the friendly staff. As this is a private school the day is a little bit lop-sided. The morning doesn't finish until about 1pm, then you are back after lunch at about 2.15pm, and yet I still finish at 3pm! So the afternoon was a very rapid session with the stocks, before finishing off with a great Joust that ended with a thrilling win for a very good ladies team. Our score lurches on inevitably to:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 16 LADIES

I got home on the Monday evening and then went to meet some friends for a drink at the near legendary Dinnington Docks pub, where I was delighted to find that the guest ale for the evening was Adnams Broadside - my old favourite beer from my days at the Hoop Pub in Stock in Essex. Yum!

There was no time to rest on my laurels as first thing on the Tuesday I was driving back up to Essex for a return visit on the Wednesday to Wickford Junior School. It was good to see my lovely son James again, and he is doing so well at school it seems. On the Tuesday night he read me a new book he had, and read it from cover to cover with barely a wrong word. He has come on in leaps and bounds and I am so proud of him. Wednesday found me back at Wickford School, which is again a lovely place to visit and work at. I was welcomed and made to feel very much at home by the wonderful staff of this school, particularly Mike Williams, my main contact there. The children were a delight in this group today. Sparky, funny and very switched on to the whole Tudor thing! The morning just seemed to fly past. Lunch was great fun in the teacher's new improved, larger staff room. Plenty of laughs. The afternoon session was unbelievably loud and finished with another brilliant joust and yet ANOTHER win for the ladies. Boys, this is getting embarrassing now. So the score ticks over to:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 17 LADIES

I had a couple more days in Essex, with my wife and son, and seeing and helping some friends, but today (Saturday) I drove back to Somerset and tried to remember which flat I lived in. It had been a while... This week I am back up at Coalway Junior School in Coleford in Gloucestershire for another return visit to an old and favourite school. Hope the weather holds.

The Parable of the Yo-Yo-ing Henry VIII

Good King Hal trying valiantly to out-stare a Triffid.

And Lo, it came to pass, that in the land that is known as Somerset, there dwelt a man called Good King Hal who didst wear tights and impersonate some old Queen or something. And verily he wouldst travel the country and startle children and teachers alike with stories of times past. And e'en now Good King of the Hal wouldst booketh his appearances so that they wouldst all be in the same area of the land that is known as Eng-Er-Land and he wouldst not have to fanny-eth about on the motorway too much. Well, that was-eth the plan. In the month that is January in the year of our Lord that is 2012, it did come to pass that Good King of the Hal had somewhat nausethed up his bookings and lo it did also come to pass that he would be doing a show in the land that is known as Dorset and then immediately have to driveth unto even like the Button that is known as Jensen, and haul his Tudor bottom all the way over to the land that is known as Norfolk in lesseth time than it taketh the on-line supplier, that is known as Amazon, to getteth a new DVD to you, even with their bargain delivery service. And there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth and use of the "F" word. And thou doesn't have to be a mind reader to worketh out what happened next... Here end the lesson.

Yes folks, it was time to get on the road and do some quite obscene amounts of driving. I was heading on the Thursday back to Downlands School at Blandford Camp in Dorset. This was my fourth visit to them, but I only get to go there every two years as I do my show for years 3 and 4 combined. As Blandford Camp is an army base you must sign in through their security post when you first arrive. As it was I arrived at the camp at about 7.30am and presented myself to the security guards. They had not been informed by the school that I was coming but seemed to see this as some sort of fault on my behalf. I was treated with utter contempt by one elderly uniformed creep and with slight disdain by the other hoary old Scottish git. When I asked them what I should do I was told in no uncertain terms to basically bugger off and sit in my car until 8am. This I did, but was then told on returning to the Chuckle Brothers that they had still not managed to get hold of anyone at the school. The elderly uniformed creep had now gone off duty and I was left in the warm tender care of the thistle flavoured one. Eventually word was got to the school and they avowed that I was not a psychotic Al Qaeeda operative with explosives strapped to my codpiece and I was let in.

It was nice to be back at Downlands - the school has been almost completely rebuilt in the two years since I was last there. It looks fantastic! It was a brilliant day as ever at Downlands - lovely kids, great teachers and lots of fun and games. I was warmly welcomed and treated like real Royalty by everyone there, which made up for the rude welcome from the Security Guards. After lunch we had a stunning jousting tournament which was won by a very good Ladies team. The score then stood at:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 15 LADIES

I drove back to Crewkerne and packed a small suitcase and was soon on my way up a rapidly darkening A303 for a trip to Essex. On my arrival I was hugged tightly by my lovely son, always a good welcome.

I was up at 5am on the Friday morning for a two and a bit hours drive up to Martham Junior School near Norwich. My previous two visits to this school had been at the height of summer, so it was a bit of a shock to the nervous system to arrive in temperatures only just above freezing. But the welcome was as warm as the hottest summer day. Martham is a delightful school and it is a real pleasure to go back there every time. It was a biggish group, over 100 children, a mixture of year 5 and 6, and they were fantastic - so full of life and enthusiasm. The noise when they really got going was almost unbelievable and the jousting was of a suitably high standard. At last though it was time for the gents to finally snatch a well deserved victory. So at the end of the week the score is:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 15 LADIES

I drove back to Essex for a couple of days with my lovely son, then this morning it was back to yo-yo-ing up and down the A303 for a return to Somerset and tomorrow morning I am off down to Tiverton in Devon and another visit to Blundell's Prep School. And just to show the yo-yo-ing isn't over, the day after that I have to drive back to Essex for a visit to Wickford School. I really must not organise a week like this again for a while. I don't think my car will forgive me if I do.

Wassail 2012

Matthew Applegate, reliable and deeply wonderful visitor services manager at Barrington Court, looking for his "front door keysh... hic!" in his Wassail bowl.

The previous few years, the Wassail at Barrington Court had suffered at the hands of the elements. Strong winds, heavy rain and piercing cold seemed to have been the common denominator. Matthew Applegate, usually the event organiser as well as being the most criminally undervalued Visitor Services Manager in the entire National Trust, was having trouble for this year's event with getting "acts" to come along. In previous years a samba drumming band had been one of the most popular turns, but they were not available this year and so it just seemed that a big public event was not in the offing. It was decided instead to have a private Wassail at Barrington Court, with entry by invitation only. However, the Langport Mummers group which appears every year had other ideas, and put the Wassail show on their official posters and this had garnered a lot of public interest, so it was therefore decided that all those invited should come, and if any members of the public turned up, well the more the merrier!

As it was there was quite a good turn out anyway, mostly familiar figures seen at the Court house throughout the year and at previous Wassails. It was an absolute delight to see Sarah Kennedy there (no, not the former early morning slurring-voiced BBC Radio 2 turps nudging presenter but the close friend of Barrington Court's pommellier, Rachel Brewer - who is currently away on holiday in Thailand hence no appearance by her and her other half Anthony) and we spent most of the evening almost huddled together against the cold. It was quite icy, but the hot mulled cider certainly helped matters.

Well we had the usual Wassail nonsense, a few carols, a poem by yours truly, The Langport Mummers and their play, the procession to the King cider tree, the offering of toast and cider to the tree, and then the firing of guns to scare away evil spirits. Wonderful stuff. If you have never experienced a proper Wassail then mark January 17th 2013 in your diary and get down to Barrington Court, but don't forget a torch and lots of thermal underwear. It can be bitter.

On the drive home various fire engines came roaring past me on their way to what seemed to be a nasty car crash on the back roads near Shepton Beauchamp - I hope no one from the Wassail was involved. Tomorrow I am off to Blandford Camp and a Henry day at Downlands School - looking forward to it!

Penwythnos gwyllt yng Nghymru. (Oh a sioe yn Henffordd).

The sort of image that was once banned by the Geneva Convention.

Now try saying the title of this blog entry when you've had a few. Not easy is it. Mind you, it's not easy when you're sober either to be honest. I think the Welsh language sometimes goes out of it's way to be awkward. Last Thursday our story begins, with an early rise and a drive up to Hereford for a second visit to the lovely Riverside School there. I last visited this school back in 2010 and it was just in the final throes of being built back then. Now, in early 2012 it is complete and looks magnificent. It was a big group today, about 60+ pupils but all very lively and articulate. They were very much up for the day and to be honest had to be reined in a little from time to time. But I would always much rather have that scenario, than the one of them sitting in stony silence.

The morning passed fairly quickly, with a slightly extended morning break to allow the school to have an assembly. Lunch was a beef stir fry with noodles, which was surprisingly tasty for a school dinner. Usually there isn't enough salt in one of the meals to harm even the wimpiest of slugs, but this meal was very well seasoned and edible. The afternoon was loud and over-excitable and culminated in another thrilling joust which was won, inevitably it seems, by the Ladies AGAIN. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 14 LADIES

They are escaping. No doubt about it. On leaving the school at about 3.15pm, I was not to head back down the jolly old M5 and home to Somerset - no! I was heading back out to Newcastle Emlyn for a long weekend being spoilt by my parents at their home. I had seen them at Christmas, but had been with my son who takes up most of my time, and my Father was not particularly well, so I wanted to see them and spend a bit more time with them. They had other guests staying with them - their old friends from Essex, Mike and Ros Bloomfield. We had a lovely weekend with a long day out over to Tenby where I managed to get yet more post cards of the Edwardian actress Gertie Millar to add to my ever increasing collection, and then the following day driving to the wonderfully named village of Gwber (pronounced Goober, as in "Goober and the Ghost Chasers" - how many of you remember THAT little pearl of retro-TV?)where we had a delicious lunch at the brilliant Flat Rock Restaurant. I drove back to Somerset on the Monday morning.

Tonight is Wassail night back at Barrington Court, but it is a much more laid back small affair this year, with attendance really only by invite only. I am then back to being Henry again on Thursday with a return visit to Blandford Camp in Dorset and a show at the Downlands School.

Ilchester, sir! Quite staggeringly popular!

A tense moment during the opening rounds of "Ye Stryctlye Comme Pavanning" from 1538. Amazingly the programme was being presented by Bruce Forsyth even then. And he was still utter crap.

This was my first Henry show back after the long Christmas and New Year lay off. It was a nice gentle re-introduction with just a short drive over to the town of Ilchester just off the A303. Life would have been easier if my pathetic sat nav could actually find the place I was going to. It had barely heard of Ilchester, let alone the road I was striving to find. Somehow, through a mixture of blind luck and asking a startled looking old man out walking his dog I managed to find a school. Not THE school, just A school. It was Ilchester Primary (Infants) and I was looking for Ilchester Primary (Juniors), so with a new set of directions ringing in my ears I was off again, and very soon at the place I needed to be. I was welcomed and let in by the school caretaker, a lovely friendly lady - which was a nice change. The only previous female caretaker I can recall was the one at Boxted near Colchester who looked like Daryl Hannah (the caretaker that is, not the school).

This is a lovely school, I cannot say how friendly I was welcomed or how kind and generous all the staff were. It was as if they had all known me for years which was absolutely wonderful. It was a big group of children today - over 90, but they were all absolutely terrific. Fun, buzzy and ready and willing to laugh and learn, something that always makes my job so much easier. When I was doing the talk about the fate of poor Anne Boleyn, I did my usual thing of choosing one of the female teachers at random to play the doomed Queen. As I approached the bit about the beheading, a small girl in the audience just dissolved into tears - it turned out it was this teacher's daughter and she was worried I was really going to lop her Mum's head off! The teacher I had chosen had the absolutely delicious name of Mrs Custard! I shall allow my hallowed readers to make up their own jokes at this point, but feel free to post the best ones to me...

Lunch was a delicious roast pork and then we were off and flying for the afternoon session. It was a riot, loads of laughs aplenty and much fun for everyone it seems. We finished off with the inevitable joust which went down to the wire before a very competent ladies team romped home to victory. This now makes the ongoing scores:

GENTLEMEN 11-13 LADIES

I headed for home and then indulged in a highly unhealthy Chinese takeaway, but to be honest I couldn't face the idea of cooking. Tomorrow I am up bright and very early for a drive up to Hereford and a return visit to Riverside School, before then driving on from there to visit my parents for the weekend in Wales. There's lovely.

It's The End of the World as We Know It... But not till later on...

Good King Hal, the morning after the 31st December wondering whether the third pint of kerosene was really such a good idea after all.

2012? So what is due? The London Olympics for a start. Not that I have been contacted by the organising committee - it might be a long shot if I am aiming to line up against Usain Bolt in the 100 metres, but I did give them my details a while ago wondering if they might need Henry VIII for some of their publicity. But so far - in the words of Bluebottle - "not a sossige". And what else for 2012? Oh yes, the end of the World. Apparently some Mayan Priests have predicted the end of everything by 2012, which is nearly quarter past eight on the 24 hour clock. So I better have an early dinner tonight otherwise I might be about to meet my maker with indigestion. Very embarrassing.

Professionally, I have Henry shows coming up at Ilchester, Hereford, Blandford, Tiverton and Wickford in Essex for this month and many more next month, which is good. I am also having a fund raising evening for the National Austistic Society masquerading as a birthday party at the end of February at which I am hoping many friends will come along.

But don't forget - for the finest Key Stage 2 Tudor Day for your pupils and at your school then contact Good King Hal either via this blog, at the website www.goodkinghal.co.uk or follow Good King Hal on Facebook.

Happy New Year everyone - have a great year. Until nearly quarter past eight tonight when we're all DOOMED!!!!!!

I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday...Oh, it was...

Good King Hal wondering where the Hell he left the sleigh. Can you see a chimney anywhere?

This year, being Father Christmas was a much nicer happier experience than last year. One of the main reasons was the almost complete and utter lack of any snow. I personally loathe the stuff and I am still, to this very day, perplexed by the sort of people who pay vast sums of money to travel the globe trying to find it. And when they do find it, they then attach planks of wood to their feet and slide down the bloody stuff. And I am always tremendously sympathetic when they arrive back at Gatwick or Heathrow with compound fractures to both lower legs. I always try to take their minds of the intense pain by pointing out how nice their out of season sun tans look. It doesn't always work to be honest.

The grotto was again located in the Dog Collar Museum at Leeds Castle in the courtyard next to the Fairfax Hall restaurant. It was a nice walk through a faux winter wonderland dotted with deer and penguins. The path was a raised walkway that thankfully only one small child managed to plummet off during our run. The evening shows were again like last year up in the castle only this time no child presented with a name as good as "Lost in Chaos" from 2010, though we did have one little girl bowl up called "Twinkle", which is all well and good when you're 7 years old, blonde and cute. It might be a tad less suitable when you're 36, vastly over weight and with six screaming children running amok in your council flat. I stayed at my sister's house in Stockbury for the entire run this time, failing miserably to get snowed into the castle this time around. I also failed miserably to get a girlfriend to come and stay with me for a romantic weekend at the castle early in the run by getting dumped before reaching the required date. C'est la vie.

Staying at my sisters is always lovely as I am guaranteed a warm welcome from her and my brother-in-law Julian, and their two lovely dogs Charlie and Una. The food is good, the bed warm and comfy and, Eastenders aside, the entertainment mostly very agreeable. The only down side is the effort it takes to get into their house. It is perched at the top of a short steep hill just off the A249 and when it rains the ground and driveway churn up like very impressive impressions of Passchendale during the 1914-18 conflict. Added to this at the bottom of the hill Julian has recently installed a new security gate following recent thefts from his garden by some charming chaps who may or may not have a connection with Dale Farm near Basildon, if you follow my drift. The gate is sealed by a pretty much tamper proof padlock, the unlocking and re-locking of was one of my main duties during all my comings and goings from their house. They had supplied me with a key. On one of my first journeys back to their house in the pitch dark after an evening show, I drove up to the gates, got out the car, slithered and slipped my way to the gate, spent a few happy minutes swearing, sweating and cursing as I attempted to get the very small key into the lock and then coax it into opening. I finally succeeded - so back into the car, drive it through the gates, stop the other side and get out and re-lock the gates. The other side of the gate was even darker and wetter. I got out and immediately put my foot into a huge muddy puddle that sunk up to my lower ankle - good job my boots were high and waterproof. I took another step and instantly sank up to my mid-calf in thick black treacle-like mud that poured into the top of my boot and soaked my feet. My, how we laughed. But it was a small price to pay for such kindness and welcome from my sister and her husband. By the end of the stay my car looked like it had just been dragged out of a swamp - and so did I.

I finished on Christmas Eve at just after midday and drove up to Essex to spend Christmas Day with my lovely son James and his Mother. Tomorrow, the 27th, he and I head off down to Wales to visit my parents for a family New Year gathering at their house which should be very nice indeed. So for all their help and hard work at Leeds Castle this Christmas I would love to say a big thank you to: Darlene, Becky Lander, the incredible Dodd sisters (Becca, Jen and Pip), Sophie, Adam, Dallas for building the grotto, Pat and Alan, Barbara, Marina, Lyn Jones, Trisha, and Helen Ellis for proving that subtlety is just something that happens for other people. If I have forgotten anyone, I apologise.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU ALL AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Ho-Ho-Ho and Ellesmere Port...

Now available from BID TV! Your very own inflatable life-size Henry VIII complete with six wives, a chopping block and a Papal Dispensation. Only £9.99 plus postage and packing (immense) - order now to avoid disappointment!

So this is Christmas. And what have you done? Stuck on a big white beard and headed for Leeds Castle again in my case. Yes, it's that time of year again when parents bring small children into Santa's Grotto and scare the crap out of them. Back at Leeds we were once again in the Dog Collar Museum which has been transformed into a winter wonderland by the genius that is Dallas, the man who always masterminds the building of the Grotto. Again it looks amazing, with the parents and children walking through on a raised walkway surrounded by deer and penguins in various states of deep freeze. I am at the end of the walkway in my large Santa throne with a very impressive Christmas Tree and a big sack of presents. We started on Saturday 10th December and it was busy buy not too hectic. On hand again were two of the wonderful Dodd sisters - Jen and Pippa, plus able support from Lynn Jones, Marina, Trisha and of course, Darlene and her assistant Becky. On the first day we had one very cute little lad in who was a bit gobsmacked when he first came into the grotto but soon got into his stride. When I asked him what he wanted for Christmas he thought long and hard, then said "Thomas". I asked "Thomas, what?" and he replied, after a long silent think - "Thomas pants." Well, you can't argue with that. Over the first two days we had a good few absolutely terrified children, but also lots of very happy jolly ones as well. I stayed at my sister Cathy's on the Saturday night where she cooked a fabulous meal, and then after the Sunday show I drove up to Essex for dinner with my lovely son James and his Mum, Amanda who had cooked a lovely roast beef meal which was delightful.

On Monday I headed up to Cheshire for a Henry show on the Tuesday in Ellesmere Port. I was booked in again at a delightful Travelodge near Chester and spent a not very nice evening listening to Manchester City being unfairly beaten by Chelsea. The main unfair part was that Chelsea scored one goal more than we did. Swines! This morning I headed up to Wolverham Primary in Ellesmere Port, which was a lovely school and met up with Joseph Bullen the teacher who had booked me. He had heard about me from a friend of his who had seen my previous appearance at a school in Cheshire when I was up near Nantwich a little while ago. It was a small group - only about 20 children, all from year 3, but they were enthusiastic, loud and, importantly very knowledgeable about Henry and the Tudors. We had a fun morning before a very nice lunch, then the afternoon started in one of the classrooms as the hall was temporarily in use. So I did the stocks session in there before we headed back to the main hall for a very loud and enthusiastic jousting tournament. It was closely fought but culminated with a good win for a Gentleman's team. As this is the last show before my Christmas break our current score for the end of the year stands at:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 12 LADIES

It is as close as that! I headed out for the long drive back to Somerset at about 3.15pm and made steady if unspectacular progress down towards the M6 - but got held up after a car smash on the A500. I finally made it onto the motorway and began south. Eventually I made it back to Crewkerne at about 7.30pm, tired, hungry but glad that I had not hit too much of the appalling weather we had been promised. Yes, the wind was very strong but there was not the Biblical rain storms that had been hinted at and no snow, and as far as I am concerned that is GOOD! I have tomorrow off, then on Thursday I am off back down to Kent again for the big push through to Christmas Eve in the Grotto.

Edgar Stammers and Southglade (NOT a rock group)

Good King Hal and his daughter (Bob) wondering where all the glass has gone from the window behind them. What a pane (geddit???).

I told a friend of mine on the phone the other night that I was off to Walsall to do a show. He asked if after that I was moving on to Gdansk. I had to repeat myself and tell him I was going to WalSALL, not Warsaw. Mind you last time I was in Walsall I had got up so early due to an inability to sleep I probably could have driven to Warsaw to do a show. Not to be caught out again I had decided to drive up on the Sunday and book myself into the luxury that is a Travelodge so as to be fresh and early at the school on the Monday. I booked online and found out to my delight that a room at a Travelodge in Walsall at the beginning of December was only £12. What a bargain! The drive up to begin with was quite nice - cold and bright, with not much traffic on the road. However as I approached the Midlands the sky became black as Newgate's Knocker and the rain just hammered down. I finally sloshed to a halt outside the august portals of the Walsall Travelodge. Now, yes admittedly it was only £12 to stay the night, but they then immediately charged you £3 for the pleasure of parking there. There was a small cafe/restaurant downstairs that offered you breakfast. But this appeared to consist of a rather forlorn looking slice of bacon, a chipolata, some watery scrambled eggs and some toast for £7.95. I'd rather starve, so I did.

I had a comfortable night in my room on the 2nd floor only being disturbed by the drunken shrieking of some demented woman at about 11pm - she wasn't happy about something and obviously wanted everyone else in the hotel to know about it. I got up the next morning and drove round to the wonderfully named Edgar Stammers School. Now to me, the name Edgar Stammers sounds like a 1960's soul singer on the Stax record label rather than a nice primary school in the West Midlands. It was a really fun group on the day - about 40+ children and all very enthusiastic. All was going really well until we got to the end of the morning session. At this point, halfway through my talk, there was a barely audible knock on the door to the hall before it was smashed open and several scary looking women of advanced years and varying degrees of gold dentistry, stormed into the hall and began noisily chucking tables and chairs around while cackling to each other. Tables were crashed down, chairs dragged honkingly loudly over the floor and voices like Thames barge foghorns were projected. I made a comment fairly loudly about them being a tad rude in stomping in like that and was shot a look from one of the teachers that said "LEAVE IT! THEY AIN'T WORTH IT!" As they began to finally (and equally loudly) to leave I called after them "Why did you bother knocking?"

After lunch, and more loud haranguing from the antediluvian dinner ladies ("'Ere! 'Enry! Where's yer Mrs? Eh? Eh?") it was back to normality, or as normal as I can get without using make up. The jousting was of a very high standard and ended up with a good Gents team coming home first. Our score therefore now moves up to:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 11 LADIES

And of course with the next contest coming up very quickly. Edgar Stammers was a lovely school, great children, lovely teachers, and very scary dinner ladies. It was like Jurassic Park with tabards.

I drove from Walsall over to South Witham near Grantham where my dear friend Val Smart lives. We wandered down to the local village pub that evening and had a lovely meal at The Blue Cow Inn. I stayed there once before as you might recall from a previous entry in the blog. It was a cold frosty evening but we sat next to a blazing log fire and had a lovely meal. The only drag was when the pub manager, who looked like a gnome who'd lost his mushroom, noticed my Manchester City t-shirt I was wearing and came over for some good natured banter as he was a Man Ure fan. He then regaled us with tales of his past life, where he'd lived, what illnesses he'd had, which RAF stations his son has been posted to and for how long, why Mousehole in Cornwall is called Mousehole, how many light bulbs they use in illuminating the village in winter... At one point I didn't think he was going to stop and I was seriously considering trying to shove him into the fireplace in a desperate attempt to escape. But we did get away. I slept in Val's spare room on a tiny, but very comfortable bed.

Tuesday morning and I was again up at bloody-hell-o'clock in the morning for a drive up to Nottingham and my visit to Southglade Junior School. This is another lovely school and I was very warmly welcomed by the teachers and staff. The children were unbelievably enthusiastic this day. It was all that I could do to reign them in and keep them on this side of hysteria. They were the same sort of size group as the day before, but about 20 times louder. Perhaps their dinner ladies were 20 times louder as well. I hoped not. The morning did honestly seem to just shoot past and I ended up for the last few minutes being interviewed in the classroom by one of the two classes, as I sank slowly into an unbelievably squashy low chair. Thank God I had my walking stick with me as I might have needed a midwife to get me out of it. Lunch was pretty awful to be honest - an all day breakfast consisting of bacon (OK), wedges (dry), mushrooms (nice), beans (stewed) and two of the most tasteless sausages I have ever experienced in my life. I know schools have to cut down on the old sodium for the sake of the kids health, but this was just taking the proverbial. They were just flavourless greyish tubes full of mush.

The afternoon was predictably loud and popular and the jousting was a joyous occasion as two really good teams fought it out in the final. The ladies came through for a deserved win though, and so our score goes back to:

GENTLEMEN 10 - 12 LADIES

I left the school at 3.30pm and made steady if unspectacular progress, until I reached junction 5 of the M42 where a car had caught fire and two lanes were blocked. I got held up there for just over half an hour. But I was soon on my way again - until the Avonmouth Bridge on the M5 where about 6 or 7 cars had decided to smash into each other and closed another couple of lanes. I was held there for about another 45 minutes. I finally walked into my flat at about 8.30pm - that had been a long long day. But worth it! And I know I am far enough away from the Dinnerladysaurus to be completely safe - for now. Tomorrow I am driving to Essex to see my lovely son and then down to Leeds Castle this weekend for the first Father Christmas weekend of the festive season. Looking forward to grooving on down with my Elves to the "Santa Rap" - HOOO-HO-HO-HOOOOO!

The Maynard

Canadian 400 metre underwater shove ha'penny Olympic quadruple gold medallist, Bruce Moosejaw IV comes thundering into the home straight with only himself to beat. And does it convincingly. Meanwhile society hostess Camilla Parker-Pen demolishes another bottle of Bombay Sapphire, while the sun sinks slowly into a pair of y-fronts. And now here's Carol Kirkwood with the weather... Carol?

I have many reasons for enjoying a trip down to Exeter in Devon and my yearly return visit to The Maynard School For Girls. One is their insistence that I don't have to start my Tudor Day until 10am. This obviously involves me staying in bed longer than normal on the morning of a Henry show, but I am prepared to suffer for my art. Secondly is my ever warm welcome from the delightful staff at this lovely school, particularly from the gorgeous Keagh Fry who now greets me on my arrival like a long lost friend. And thirdly it is always just such a fun place to come and work in. It was the usual smallish group today - about 20 young ladies I suppose, but each and every one of them in wonderful Tudor costumes. I started the show at about 10.35am, and by 12 noon we had finished for lunch -my kind of hours! It was another lovely meal at this school followed by a leisurely lounge in the comfortable staff room with it's legendary squashy sofa - the one that nearly rendered me unconscious about three years ago on a previous visit.

Straight after lunch it was a bit of music and chat from the King followed by a raucous stocks session which finished with the Head of the School being pilloried, swiftly followed by the Head of the Junior School taking another ear bashing. Great stuff. We then moved into the final jousting tournament which was loud and exciting but unfortunately can't be added to our yearly score as this is an all-girls school! But all in all it was another fun, friendly and pleasant visit to this lovely school in Exeter and a delight to see Keagh again. One of the young ladies in the group was called Emily and had the sort of voice that could pierce lead screens and reinforced concrete bunkers at a range of anything up to several and a half miles. She will go far, of that I have no doubt. I drove back home and treated myself to a Chinese take-away and an early night, though not at the same time as it might make the bed sheets a bit greasy. My next Henry outing is on Monday at Edgar Stammers School in Walsall. Thought it might be Warsaw. I'd better check...