Roar of the Grease Paint...

Elizabeth of York, feeling a prick (on a rose).

And finally the flood waters did recede, and the people of Somerset did look up at the strange yellow object in the sky and go "ooh-arr" and scratch their heads in bewilderment.  You knew the threat of flooding was now rapidly disappearing as all the TV news crews had buggered off.  When I look back to last year and this same time, we weren't inundated with water, we were instead freezing our collected butts off.  If you think back to the weekend at Knebworth (shudder - I try not to) the temperature for that whole weekend barely rose above freezing.  This same weekend just gone (i.e. 365 days later) and the temperatures were around about 20 degrees.  Funny old world, innit?

And so we begin on Tuesday the 18th March and the King's return to Birchfield Junior School in Yeovil.  My last visit to this school had been the previous January and that was certainly a lot colder - I remember loading the props back into the car after that show with huge great flakes of snow dolloping themselves onto my car windscreen and stubbornly refusing to melt.  I arrived early and was met by the usual group of very friendly teachers, including the wonderful Ally Goff who was her usual infectiously funny and happy self.  This is such a friendly happy school, great atmosphere whenever you go there and this day was no different.  We had a great group of kids as well, loads of laughs and everyone seemed to enjoy the day in the extreme.  The final jousting tournament was an incredibly loud event which virtually tore the roof off the place. It was worth it for the lads as they were finally rewarded with a long needed win.  Our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 13.5 - 21.5 LADIES

Back out to the car to load it up and go and I am delighted to say there was not a hint of dollopy snow flakes in the air, for which I was very grateful for.

I headed up to Essex on the 23rd, for a week of looking after James as Amanda continued her burgeoning am dram career with her second performance for the Thalians Theatre Group in Basildon.  She was out for most evenings for the final technical and dress rehearsals, and was then performing on the Thursday, Friday and Saturday at the Mirren Studio in the Towngate Theatre.  My first port of call though back in the south east was a return visit to Dulwich College Junior School in South East London.  Again my previous visit last year had included quite prodigious amounts of snow everywhere, appalling traffic and a journey that seemed just slightly shorter than Captain Scott's epic trek to the South Pole.  There was no way I was going to get caught in such terrible traffic this time, so I set off spectacularly early from Basildon... and arrived spectacularly early at the school.  Not a hint of any traffic or bad weather.  Typical.  Once inside I was greeted by the delightful Leiba Sablon, the lovely teacher who booked me last year.  Dulwich College which is Nigel Farage's old school (now there is a claim to fame) is an all boy's school so no results from the very entertaining jousting can be added to the scores as it wouldn't be fair on the ladies.  I do the same for the men when I visit the Maynard School in Exeter.  It was a great day once again at this school.  Great kids, really switched on and with it, and they get all the gags - big time!  So man laughs.  We ripped through to a fantastic jousting finale and then I was on my way back to Basildon.  The traffic out of London was far more what I expected first thing in the morning, slow, bumper to bumper and lots of very bad tempered people refusing to budge an inch.

My main place of residence on Wednesday the 26th was at the "Weston Homes Community Stadium" in Colchester.  This sadly wasn't for some huge outdoor arena style Good King Hal show in front of thousands of adoring fans - nope, I was attending a speed awareness course as I had been photographed in the Royal motor doing 67MPH on the A282 leading onto the Dartford Crossing Bridge back in early January.  So I could either pay the £100 fine and take the three points onto my licence, or I could attend this course and avoid the points.  I naturally went for this option - and promptly picked up a bill for £97.50 to attend. Well, at least I saved myself £2.50.  Not really, after I had bought myself an exorbitantly priced cup of tea in the cafe in the stadium as I waited for the course to begin.  I found it rather sweet that Colchester United had decided to call their stadium cafe "The Hot Shot Cafe".  Surely for the level they play at it should be called "The Scuffed Shot" or "The Toe Ender".  But I can forgive them most things as the waitress had a lovely bottom.  The course was much as I expected - it was presented by two men, one who was so smug as to make Greg Wallace on Masterchef look positively insecure and another old chap who was to technical items what Bernard Manning was to race relations. If he could press a button and make something go wrong he would do it.  The automatic lights went up and down, the electronic blinds went up and down more times than a whore's drawers until they fused, and he was halfway through his part of the presentation when he somehow managed to completely switch off the lap top he was doing his presentation through and we had to sit in a slightly embarrassed silence as he and Captain Smug muttered and pressed buttons until it all came on again.  Well, it was all quite informative, didn't really tell me anything I didn't already knew and it was four hours of my life I won't get back again.

Thursday night was Amanda's opening night in the play.  The Thalians (the am dram group Amanda belongs to) were doing a version of Terry Pratchett's "Going Postal" and Amanda had the part of "Mr Pony" (yes, I know) and she did fantastically well in a superb all round production.  She had worked long and hard on this production, helping out a lot with the costumes, most particularly the very impressive Golem outfit, complete with it's stunning latex mask - anyone who saw the show will know what I am talking about.  Her performance was faultless and James and I really enjoyed it, even though James got very restless towards the end of the first half.  Luckily there were some spare seats at the back of the theatre, so for the second half James and I moved back there and my restless native of a son could stand up, sit down, wriggle and do all the things slightly bored autistic children want to do, without disturbing anybody around us.  It is so great to see Amanda getting into the acting lark - her almost child-like excitement and fixation with the cast and the whole experience reminded me so much of my early days in the business.  I warned her after the final performance she would experience a real downer of post show blues - and she did, bless her.  It was nice to see her in the post performance glow going over and over the photos she had taken of the rehearsals and the cast in general.  Thankfully she is going for the read through of their next production this week, so her fix for this new addiction will get fed again!  Hopefully there will be another production soon in which James can take part as he is as taken with the whole acting lark as Amanda is.  Oh, the roar of the grease paint, the smell of the crowd.... You can't whack it.

Mothering Sunday saw Amanda, James and I joining Cathy and Julian down at their house in Kent for a lovely slap up meal and a bit of champagne sipping.  It was a nice way to round off my week looking after my beloved James.  He can also get back into his performing as I have just had all the dates through for the jousting this summer with the Knights of Royal England.  Fantastic!

Floody Hell.

Just popping into Chard for some baked beans.

I had a strange experience the other day on Facebook.  No, it wasn't abuse, it was instead a series of messages from friends of mine around the country and the World enquiring as to whether I was alright or not.  I wondered why they were suddenly all so concerned about my welfare, but then the dreaded word that they were all focusing on became apparent.... Somerset.  Somerset, it seems, is now considered the most dangerous place to live on Planet Earth.  Soweto?  Hah!  Beirut?  Piffle!  Syria?  For girls!  Chatham?  Well, that is pretty f***ing ropey, but apparently Somerset is now considered more of a threat to humanity than Medway towns full of arse-faced chavs with the mental capacity of a burrito.  And it was all down to the flooding everyone was seeing on their TV sets every night.  Hour after hour you'd see welly wearing Londoners who work in "meeee-ja" and who had not even the vaguest idea of where Somerset was except they'd heard from their old University pal Briony that it was something to do with the Glastonbury Festival.  These bland news reporters were plonked in front of cameras showing angry damp people shaking their fists at various politicians, each of which was trying to be more contrite than the last one, as huge dodgy looking pipes pumped prodigious quantities of water away from the flooded plains.  If my house was to be flooded I would have to be quite spectacularly unlucky and there would have to be one heck of a lot more rain.  Crewkerne, where I live, is built on some hills, I live halfway up one of these hills on the third floor of an old converted Victorian dairy.  If I do happen to pull back the curtains one morning and see fish swimming past the window, then, and only then, would I panic.  So to all my friends who have phoned, texted and sent me Facebook messages desperate to know if I was dry, safe and un-drowned, the answer is yes, to all three of your questions.  You really don't have to go far from where I live to see the land turned into a sea, but I am pretty sure I'll survive where I am.

I was up in Norfolk the other day for a return visit to White Woman Lane School in Norwich.  This is a great place to visit, fun kids and some of the grooviest teachers you could ever wish to meet.  There is also a very high preponderance of Americans teaching in this school.  But then, they are all gorgeous and friendly so I personally encourage this special relationship.  It was a biggish group of kids, in fine form and some terrific costumes and we had a splendid day all round.  The joust was loud in the extreme and guess what??  The ladies won AGAIN.

GENTLEMEN 12.5 - 20.5 LADIES

The journey back wasn't so bad, but just south of Long Stratton there had just been what appeared to be a horrendous crash involving two lorries and two cars.  One of the cars and one of the lorries had piled through the large expensive looking brick wall of a posh house next to the road.  Paramedics were working on one of the cars with screens placed around it, which didn't look good.  I only hope anyone involved with this accident are all now OK.

I had some time with my lovely James, before heading down to Kent to see Michelle Coda and Matt Rentell, and of course the lovely Elaine!  Smashing!  After this brief pleasurable interlude I was back on the road back down to Somerset (with my water wings pre-inflated, just in case).  I saw a lot of my old mate Pete Flanagan and even attempted an evening out with Matthew Applegate at the Rose and Crown in East Lambrook. We met over there on the Wednesday evening, only to discover the place was closed for no apparent reason.  Rather stumped at what to do next we headed back to Barrington to try out the new re-vamped local pub "The Barrington Boar", formerly for many hundreds of years known as the Barrington Oak, or the Royal Oak at Barrington. Why do people have to change things like this for no apparent reason? Anyway, the pub is very nicely turned out, the beer is perfectly adequate and the restaurant was pleasingly packed out for a midweek evening.  So I will be trying it again.

I am now in Essex again as it is half term and I am spending some lovely times with my gorgeous son James.  We went bowling yesterday, where predictably enough he thrashed me.  Then today we have been to see the "Lego Movie" which was tremendous fun and so inventive, and then had a most pleasing "Ruby Murray" for lunch.  James is my pride and joy and we are having such a fun half term, and there is much more to do!

Also during this period I had a great meeting with Doug Bolton and Sarah Morris about future film and TV projects, and speaking of such things - our movie from Hever Castle is now on the Internet movie database (IMDB.com) - I am officially a director, actor and writer.  Never been so proud of myself.  So if you want to see our entry on IMDB, then just click on this link:  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3541544/?ref_=nm_flmg_dr_1  You know you want to.

One Month - No Blog.

Good King Hal showing utter contrition for his lack of blog for the last month.

A month?  Are you sure?  Strewth.  What have I been doing?  Oh I know, Christmas and Tudor stuff, as any normal despotic post medieval ruler should do.  I really have to cast my mind back to try and remember what the hell I have been doing for the past month.  Some afternoons I have trouble remembering what I did in the morning, so this could be hard work.  So where to begin?  At the very beginning, as Julie Andrews would have warbled, it's a very good place to start...

14th December I had been booked to appear at Chester Town Hall for a corporate evening bash for a company called Kingspan who make wall cladding, apparently.  Well my King's span is pretty big, but I am not sure how much wall I can actually cover without it being a bit painful. I drove up to Chester at lunchtime on the Saturday and booked into a hotel.... oh alright, a Days Inn, on the outskirts of the city.  This plastic hotel was a bit different to most of the others I have used recently as it was really nice!  It had recently been renovated, was very cosy, nicely equipped and had a lovely king size bed that was incredibly comfortable.  The weather was revolting and a pre-cursor of what to expect over Christmas and the new year - a cold howling wind and heavy squally rain showers.  As I didn't know Chester at all and wasn't sure what the parking would be like at the venue I had decided instead to book a taxi to get me there and back.  I had visited Chester once before, but that was in 1981 and I kind of guessed the town might have changed a bit since I was last there.  My taxi arrived bang on time and I was soon being whisked off into the night for my appointment at the Town Hall. My driver was a lovely bloke, a scouser with a lovely thick Liverpudlian accent.  We got to chatting about football and he asked me what team I supported.  When I said Manchester City he briefly took a fierce intake of breath.

"You're lucky you said that, mate" he said.  "If you'd said Manchester United I'd have made you get out and f***ing walk."  Really?  "Oh yeah, if I ever get any of those b***ards in my cab I charge them double."  Ah bless him!  

Chester Town Hall is a marvellous Victorian edifice - a celebration of Gothic architecture and full of grand high ceilings, sweeping staircases, imposing busts (ooh er!) and mock medieval touches here and there.  I was sharing a changing room with all the other artists booked that evening including three jesters, a group of medieval musicians and a fire breather.  They were all lovely and very welcoming and I was soon stationed at the front door ready to welcome the guests as they arrived.  There was a whole load of gorgeous young wenches in elegant dresses, there to be waitresses and staff for the event.  I chatted to them and they were all students working at the University of Liverpool, one of whom was studying ancient music and medieval plainsong.  The guests who first arrived were greeted by two of the jesters on the stairs who were juggling and fire breathing, until they were told to stop fire breathing by a jobs worth from the City Council who claimed the heat and smoke from their activity might set off the fire alarms and sprinklers in the building.  Inside, I was there at the top of the stairs with four of the wenches, and yet another jester who was showing amazing juggling skills with a variety of objects, even heavy glass globes - and all of this over solid stone floors.  A brave man.  The guests began arriving in drips and drabs, but it soon turned into a torrent.  As with most British works bashes, all of the women were dressed amazingly in beautiful fine dresses and gowns, and the men were in a general uniform of fancy shirt, jeans and boots.  One lady who turned up on this cold evening was wearing an outfit that resembled a large, black see-through handkerchief.  She had nothing on underneath and was VERY cold, if you know what I mean.  They were sticking out like chapel hat pegs and you could have struck matches on them.  But at least I had somewhere to hang my hat.  The musicians started and sounded wonderful.  Some medieval music groups I have heard can be very quiet - this lot were like the historical version of The Who - especially their drummer who had what appeared to be a Tudor samba drum and it made an incredibly wonderful booming sound that resounded through the building.  I then had to go upstairs to where the guests drinks reception was being held and process them down to the main hall for their dinner.  The main hall in the building is magnificent with a colossally high ceiling with an impressive hammer beam style roof.  I had a large golden throne to park my Royal derriere on and receive guests as they came in.  I posed for numerous photos, had lots of lovely ladies come and want to sit on my lap - who was I to argue? - and then a few navigation's of the room to see how all the guests were.  I had a quick break to snaffle down some dinner, which was delicious, then it was back into the hall for a grand draw with various prizes for the guests, one last patrol of the hall, and then I was released.  I got changed, wandered outside, found a taxi and began my journey back to my hotel.  This driver was a bit different from my earlier one as he explained in great details about his chronic heart problems that meant he could kick the bucket at any second.  I just prayed he got me back to my hotel first, which he did.  I had a lovely comfortable night in my hotel and then drove back to Somerset early on the Sunday morning.

Tuesday found me at Evercreech in Somerset for my final school appearance of 2013.  Evercreech school was lovely and I was very warmly welcomed by staff and pupils alike, all of whom were a bit end of term crazy and ready for a good time, so who was I to say no?  We had a simply splendid day, so many laughs, great fun with the kids and a truly memorable day.  For the jousting we brought the rest of the school in to watch and this of course increased the sound volume immensely.  As has been the case throughout the year, nothing changed and the ladies romped to a very impressive win.  The score at the end of the year goes to:

GENTLEMEN 9.5 - 14.5 LADIES

It pains me to say it, but the boys look clueless at present.  And so my final professional engagement of the year ended and I looked forward to my Christmas break.

For Christmas I first drove back to Essex to pick up Amanda and James from Basildon, then on the 23rd we drove down to Wales and a visit to my parents in Newcastle Emlyn.  The weather down was frighteningly horrible - the wind, almost hurricane like in it's ferocity buffeted the car and made driving very difficult.  When we stopped for lunch at Membury Services on the M4, it was almost impossible to walk from the car to the services without being blown over. Finally, as we got down to near the Severn crossing the wind began to abate, the rain stopped, and by the time we reached our turn off at Carmarthen, we even had a clear sky above us.  The fields around Newcastle Emlyn were heavily flooded and the rivers were so submerged you could not make out their true course.  Christmas was a delight, James thoroughly enjoyed himself and everyone had a good time.  I had to have my car looked at because of possible brake problems.  I booked it into Emlyn Motors who promised me it was brake pad problems and wouldn't be too expensive.  Well that obviously means something completely different in Welsh than it does in English as the "not too expensive" brakes cost me nearly £500 with all the new callipers and the work they had to do.   I had felt tremendously smug just before Christmas as I had come through it all with money to spare in my account.  Well that was that p***ed up the wall in 10 seconds flat.  Arse. I drove James and Amanda back to Essex, spent a couple more days with them and then headed back to Somerset.  I spent New Years Eve with my lovely old friend Ali Bessell, and we had a smashing evening watching the movie "World's End", nibbling canapes and sipping proseco.  The evening ended with us watching Jools Holland's Hootenanny on BBC2, which was good fun, apart from groovy new girl guitar band Haim, who sounded like a third rate amateur band bashing out cover versions in your local boozer.  How the hell they have garnered such a reputation so early in their career God alone knows.  Truly awful. 

I had a week's grace to get myself attuned to being back in the real world, but then my first 2014 bookings appeared.  My first show was at the deliciously named Gothic Mede Academy in the town of Arlesy in Bedfordshire.  With a name like that I imagined copious amounts of dry ice, all the teachers with black hair and white painted faces and Bauhaus blaring out of all available speakers (Yes, Corinna, I know, I know...) but it was a fairly normal ordinary school.  The lady who had booked me was incredibly pregnant and looked tremendously uncomfortable throughout the day, poor love, but they were very welcoming and we had a lovely mixed group of years three and four, just under 100 children.  Loads of laughs and fun, and the children all enjoyed watching the film I had made at Hever Castle during the summer.  The jousting was incredibly close, really a tight tight finish, probably closer than anything I had seen in 2013.  But inevitably the ladies stormed through to nick victory.

GENTLEMEN 9.5 - 15.5 LADIES

This is getting embarrassing.  Much as I would have liked to have leapt in the car and head for home, I had to head north instead to Northampton for my next appointment on the following day.  I was back to dear old Travelodge for the night and was delighted to find the hotel I was in was just as lovely as the Days Inn at Chester had been.  Warm, welcoming, comfortable and the all new big king size bed.  Brilliant!  I had a lovely lovely evening and slept like a log.

If I thought the Gothic Mede Academy was a good name yesterday, today I was at the equally wonderfully named Hopping Hill Primary School in Duston, in Northampton.  Today was a fabulous day - a year six group, a rare thing, but they were brilliant. We started off in their classroom for the morning as the hall was out of commission, but we had a fabulous time.  Chris Barnes, the gentleman who had booked me was lovely, but looked about 12 years old - you know you're getting old when teachers could realistically be your children.  A lovely lady went out of her way to look after me at lunchtime, going out to the local shops to get me a sandwich and drink, and she refused any money for them.  What a nice lady. The stocks and the jousting in the hall were a delight and we finished on that rarest of things - a win for the Gentlemen!  But, boy was it close again. We had to go to a jousting penalty shoot out to get a result.

GENTLEMEN 10.5 - 15.5 LADIES

Wow, did the boys team need that.  They were getting left behind again.  I began the long slog back home to Somerset and finally arrived in Crewkerne just after 6pm.  I was hungry and knew there wasn't much at home, so I decided to get fish and chips.  Not from my usual miserable bastards in West Street, but instead I decided to try Tucker's, the new chip shop in East Street, and they were lovely.  Welcoming, chatty, friendly, clean and pleasant - pretty much everything the other place isn't.  So, that's my new chip shop sorted out.  I got back home, stuck on the TV, ate my dinner and promptly fell asleep on the sofa.  Oh, the wild and exciting life of a Henry VIII look-a-like!

My next Henry appearance is next Monday with a return visit to one of my longest standing bookings, at Blundell's Prep School in Tiverton in Devon.  Should be a fun one like it always is.

Better Late Than Never. Apparently.

An apology, earlier...

I know I know.  It's been far too long.  Oh the amount of times I have heard that from a lady.  Actually, I am lying to be honest.  They normally climbed into bed clutching an electron microscope.  But enough of my chequered past, and to be brutal, probably equally chequered future.

I have to cast my weary old mind back to last week and the first gig, which was at the Maynard School in Exeter.  I have been visiting this lovely school for nearly ten years now and I always get to see the same teacher, a lovely lady called Keagh Fry.  The Maynard like me to start a bit later than other schools, so I don't have to be with them until about 10.30am, which suits me down to the ground as it means I can have a bit of a lie in!  It was a cold morning but a nice drive down to Exeter itself.  I was soon in the hall with the ladies (The Maynard is a girls school), but it was a very small group this year, just 14.  We had a fabulous early session, lots of laughs and some great knowledge from the ladies.

Lunch was, as ever, delicious at the Maynard and loads of the dinner staff remembered me from previous years and we had a lot of laughs.  It was good to catch up with Keagh over lunch and hear how her lovely kids Adison and Harley were getting on.  We ripped through a fun afternoon and finished with a good jousting tournament, but of course again, like Maltman's the other day, this being an all girl school, I can't allow the result to add to the year long score.  So next year will be my tenth visit to Maynard School, and I can't wait to see them all again.

My next bookings were the beginning of the next week where the Monday and Tuesday was to find me in Cheltenham in Gloucestershire.  Monday I was due at Dean Close Prep School and the Tuesday I was at St Mark's Junior School.  I drove up to Cheltenham on the Sunday and had booked myself into a Travelodge.  Now from those who have read this blog over the years, both of you, you will know my feelings towards Travelodge.  The different levels of quality in this hotel chain is enough to give you the "Trip Adviser Bends".  I have gone from a freezing cold crap splattered shack near Knebworth, to a brand spanking new comfortable plush set up at New Brighton.  Now, here at Cheltenham I was to move up to a new level of niceness. The new Cheltenham Travelodge was lovely.  A king size bed, plasma screen telly, clean, tidy, warm and with a working elevator.  What was not to like?  I arrived on the Sunday and after settling in, went downstairs to the Harvester Restaurant that was there.  I ordered a steak and some new potatoes.  New potatoes were off, so I had mashed potatoes instead.  When my plate came up, it was roughly the same size as a satellite dish, with a small round piece of steak, a bit like an ice hockey puck, skulking at one end, a small blob of mashed potato in the middle, and a rather depressed looking grilled tomato slowly disintegrating at the other end.  Haute cuisine.  I think I would have been better off going to the Kentucky Fried Chicken drive through next door.  Having said that, the wine was nice and the waitress rather pretty, very friendly and attentive.  I slept very well.

Monday at Dean Close was a good one.  Jon Harris who books me was as ever, very attentive, friendly and well organised.  We started the day in the Oaksey Common Room, as you do, moved briefly outside for the jousting, then back for the finale of the day, the stocks back in the Oaksey Room.  It was a lovely day all round and as we had an extended session for the jousting, we got everyone to have a go, timing them to see who the fastest 12 were, and then having a big final between the three fastest boys and the three fastest ladies.  Despite what the original timings had shown us, it was the gentlemen who sailed off with the win in the big final, much to the annoyance of the ladies.  Our score clicks over to:

GENTLEMEN 8.5 - 11.5 LADIES

So a bit closer again.  It would be most interesting to see what occurred at St Mark's School on the Tuesday. Stay tuned...

I got whisked out to dinner on the Monday night, picked up from outside the hotel by Justine Cotterill, a friend of Zarrina Bull's and a lady I have pranced around with at Sudeley Castle from time to time. It was down to Justine that I was going to St Mark's School in the first place as her son goes to the school and is doing the Tudors, so she introduced me, bless her!   For the meal,  I was under the impression it was going to be me and all of Justine's family, but as it was it was just me and Justine, so a big thank you to her husband and kids for the loan of their wife/mum!  We went into the centre of Cheltenham and to a very agreeable curry house.  One lovely curry later and I was back at the hotel, sitting on the bed looking like a ginger Buddha.

I set my alarm for about 6.30am the next morning so that I could get up early and rush around slowly, as my Mother often says.  Ooh!  Did you notice the pause in my typing there?  An advert came on TV with Fearne Cotton in it and I had to smash my foot through the screen and then grind the plastic debris to dust.  But I feel better now.  Anyway, back to me supposedly getting up early on the Tuesday, well sadly I slept right through my alarm and only got woken up with a text from Justine letting me know how much she'd enjoyed the meal the night before - at about 7.45am.  ARGH!  I had promised the school I would be with them just after 8am.  I hurriedly got ready, but it was lucky that I was just round the corner from St Mark's - less than a mile to be honest.  Well, we had a lovely time at the school - it was a fantastic place, really nice teachers, groovy kids and a lovely hall.  Not sure if it was because I was enjoying myself so much or if they had drugged my tea, but the day seemed to absolutely shoot past.  The jousting finished with a roar as the ladies stormed back to a famous victory, simply destroying the boys team in the final.

GENTLEMEN 8.5 - 12.5 LADIES

And so the drive home began, and it wasn't a bad one and I was home and hosed by 5.30pm.  And after a couple of days at leisure listening to England being ripped to shreds in the second test (oh the shame... being bowled out by Mitchell Johnson, a man with all the subtlety of a commode and the accuracy of an American air strike), and then I was off up to Essex on the Friday to see Amanda and James in another production of their version of "A Christmas Carol", this time at St Nicholas' Church, Laindon, a very atmospheric venue.  It was great to see them both enjoying themselves and getting so much out of performing on stage.  Here's to their next production - a version of Terry Pratchett's "Going Postal".  What a marvellous delivery.

Hampton Court? No I just sat down too quickly...

Good King Hal having a quick pas de deux.  The filthy beast.

I had waited a long time to do a gig at Hampton Court Palace.  It was one of those venues that just never seemed possible.  OK it is a closed shop to re-enactors.  You have to be top top chums with the company Past Pleasures and be prepared to work for their starvation wages most of the time.  I speak with some experience on this matter as I had auditioned for Past Pleasures some years back and was horrified by the paltry sum they offered me to work for them.  "Think of the kudos of working at Hampton Court!" Their boss had said.  Yes, think of my bank balance, I replied.  And so it seemed it would never happen.  But then the most unlikely of white-charger-riding-heroes swept out of the sunset.  BP are probably better known for crashing oil tankers on to rocks in Alaska or making obscene amounts of profit every year, but their Indirect Procurement Department (no, me neither.  Not a scooby.) had booked me to attend their "Town Hall" meeting day, which just happened to be at Hampton Court Palace.  I had asked along Sarah Morris, lovely Tudor Lady and top author on the subject, to join me as Queen for the day.  She was happy to oblige.  

I had booked at hotel right next to Hampton Court and drove up on the Sunday night as I thought it might be nice and quiet.  WRONG.  WRONG WRONG WRONG.  This was the Sunday night after a half term holiday.  The A303 was packed tighter than Robert Plant's spandex pants at an early 70's Led Zepp concert.  I spent a good hour sitting in the darkness that should have been Stonehenge, surrounded by huge 4x4 vehicles packed full of sour faced little school age f*ckers with i-Pads, playing Minecraft, or Candy Crush Saga, or watching Miley Cyrus do something really outrageous like write a decent song by herself and leave her pants on for once.  That would be nice.

I got to the King's Arms Hotel and met up with Sarah.  I nearly managed to embarrass myself early on by using the loo in my room, then deciding to wash my hands, I turned on the tap and was hammered in the crotch with a tsunami-like explosion of water which made me look like I had lost complete control of my bodily functions.  The next five minutes were spent in my room with the hair dryer trying to remove the offending stain marks.  We had a lovely dinner - I had  a wild mushroom and truffle risotto, with Parmesan shavings, and a pint of Hall and Woodhouse Badger ale.  Smashing.  I slept like a baby on a small bed that made alarming farting noises every time I moved.

Sarah and I had breakfast and then made our way round to Hampton Court.  We were in the Garden Room round the back of the Palace and were warmly reminded not to wander round the front should we upset any of the Past Pleasures slaves.... I mean actors.  It was generally a fun day - mostly me introducing the speakers, some of whom were funny and inspiring and others, such as their IT bod who needed beheading after only two minutes but insisted on giving his full.....well, I don't know how long.  It honestly felt like a lifetime.  Wonderful.  We'd had to get changed into our clobber in the cafe next door to where we were, so that involved us both going into the small gents and ladies to get our gear on properly.  I had finished when I got the call from the ladies that Sarah needed me in there to lace her in.  Now any top student of doubles entendres or any just voyeuristic tendencies, should have had a look in at that point.  We had Sarah, semi robed in her Tudor gowns, leaning on her hands bent over the sink in the ladies, as I stood close up behind her, two cords of cloth in hand, with her shouting out:  "DO ME UP MIKE!  AND DO IT HARD!"  Ooh er!  People don't realise how much I suffer in this job - here I was with Sarah Morris, who lets face it folks, is drop dead gorgeous, half undressed in Tudor undies, while I have to physically and forcefully lace her into her body hugging bodice.  What I did, I did in the name of Tudor Historical accuracy.  But I did have to have a cigarette afterwards.
Well BP treated us like Royalty, how else?  They fed and watered us splendidly, we took part in the whole day, helping out with the team quizzes and with me introducing all the speakers and posing for photos with most of the delegates.  We finished at about 4.30pm and Sarah and I were away just after 5pm.  The roads down to the M25 were horrendous, but the actual London orbital generally quiet.  I was soon at Amanda's house to see her and James, but they were out rehearsing their new play, but more of that later!
On the Wednesday I was up in Norfolk, in Norwich for a first appearance at Lionwood School.  I had been recommended by one of the teachers who had previously witnessed me doing my "thing" at Falcon Junior some years ago.  Lionwood was a brilliant school - great fun, some really cool teachers and cracking kids.  They had no idea I was coming, the children that is!  And their surprise on my first appearance was very edifying.  The joust came down to a very closely fought final, which was finally won by a very good Ladies team.  Our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 7.5 - 10.5 LADIES

Once more daylight appears between them, what can the gents do?  It is funny how the ladies just keep on winning.  That's life I suppose.
On the Thursday evening I was at the Mirren Studio in the Towngate Theatre in Basildon to watch The Thalians Theatre Group and their production of Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".  My lovely son James was in it as a street urchin, and also the little lad who Scrooge gets to go and get the turkey at the end of the play.  And Amanda was cast as one of the old crones who strips Scrooge's flat after his death.  They were both absolutely brilliant, the whole cast was.  You had to keep reminding yourself it was an amateur production.  But it was truly wonderful, great sets, lovely costumes, great actors and a genuinely creepy Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.  Amanda and James are truly bitten by the bug and have both put their names forward for the next production - a version of Terry Pratchett's "Going Postal".  I'm ordering my tickets already.

Norwich in the South East? Norfolk in chance.

Jane Seymour, bursting into tears when the blindfold falls off and she finally see's her new husband...

So with the dust barely settling on the Holy Family School in Benfleet, his Royal Sagaciousness was up at the crack of dawn and out of the front door of Amanda's house and on the road to Norfolk.  I had mentioned to some friends that I was in the South East for the week for shows in Benfleet, Norwich and Wickford, for which my friends had snorted and said, since when was Norwich in the South East?  Well, when you live in Somerset, everything to the east of London appears to be the South East.  Sort of... Depends on which way you face and where you start from.  Oh shut up.  I don't care.  I knew what I meant.  And anyway, it wasn't even in Norwich, I was returning to Martham on the outskirts of Great Yarmouth.  Yes, Great Yarmouth, or how I still refer to it - AAARGH!!!  Not my favourite place on Earth.  I am not a big fan of seaside resorts, and let me tell you, Great Yarmouth is THE last resort.  Anyway, it doesn't matter as I was in Martham, which is a lovely little area and nothing to do with Great Yarmouth at all.  Norfolk has this reputation for having a population full of people dressed in smocks throwing turnips at old ladies that they think are witches, to paraphrase Charlie Brooker, but the children and staff at Martham are always really on the ball, and this year was no different.  It was a big group as ever, well over 100 children, but we had a fantastic time, great response and loads of laughs from all the children and staff.  It's a long drive to Martham, but days like this make it worth it.  The jousting was deafening, unsurprising considering the size of the group, and ended in a massively important win for the Ladies!  And so the score clicks over to:

GENTLEMEN 7.5 - 8.5 LADIES

So the ladies strike back after a good recent series of wins for the gentlemen.  

I got home to Amanda's place and had lots of cuddles from my lovely son, James.  Always makes the day worthwhile when that happens.  The following day, the Thursday, luckily I was much closer to Amanda's place with a return visit to Wickford School in Essex.  Wickford is a lovely school, and is always a delight to come along to. Yet another warm welcome and yet another group of fabulous kids.  All the teachers were great fun as usual, except for one very dour Welsh male teacher who spent the entire day with his arms folded, a resigned look upon his face somewhere between pain and utter disinterest.  This was a challenge, and so during the afternoon stocks session when my shows get incredibly silly, I kept haranguing him and dragging him into my routines.  But I'll give the old leek muncher his due, he resolutely refused to raise a smile for the entire day.  I was for once, defeated. Diolch yn fawr, as they say in some of the more refined sheep shearing parlours in upper Gwent.  I prefer O leiaf yn ceisio gwenu, rydych yn ddiflas git Cymru.  But please yourself I say.

Another fabulous jousting tournament in the afternoon culminated in a stunningly easy win for the ladies, again!  This is much more like last year!  Our score goes on to:

GENTLEMEN 7.5 - 9.5 LADIES

So daylight once more splits the two teams.  And this is our score as we moved into the half term period of this scholastic year.  Any thoughts of an evening of rest was soon scuppered as I was asked to go along with Amanda and James and see their latest rehearsal for the play they are appearing in - Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol".  James is playing the street urchin that Scrooge encourages to go and buy the big turkey for the Cratchitt family at the end of the play.  He has learnt his lines brilliantly, and just needs to slow down his delivery a bit and he will be a big star.  Amanda is playing an old hag who pilfers Scrooge's belongings after he has died.  I refuse to mention the words "type" and "casting" at this juncture as I rather like my cobblers where they are at the moment.  All in all, the play itself looks like it is going to be a stunner, and speaking of stunners, so is the lady playing the Ghost of Christmas Past.  I must go to the first performance and sit in the front row.

Half term saw James and I head down to Wales for a few days in the pouring wind and rain that appeared to be Newcastle Emlyn and my parents house.  To be honest some of the weather forecasts we got at the start of the week were a tad biblical, but the plague of locusts and boils did miss us on the whole and we had a lovely few days away.

Next stop for the King - an appearance at Hampton Court Palace on Monday doing a corporate event for BP.  My first Hampton Court show - I can't wait!  Watch this space for more.

Hartland and the Holy Family

Good King Hal clutching Natalie Dormer and very
shortly going blind...

I had been doing a lot of rushing around lately, and when I finally sat down in my office and looked at the up and coming shows I had to do, I was delighted to see that all that was left for the end of this week was a half day at a school in Devon.  I had enquired of the school roughly where in Devon they were, and was delighted again to hear the word "north".  Super, surely they would only be in Axminster or somewhere close by like that.  About 36 hours before I was due to be at the school I decided it would probably be prudent to actually have a butchers at the maps and see where this place was.  Ah.  It wasn't Axminster.  It wasn't Tiverton.  It was a bit further than that.  It was in Hartland, near Bideford - next stop Nova Scotia.  It wasn't a long way, it was a sodding long way.  It was about 100 miles door to door, so I ended up having to leave in the wee small hours and hack off down the M5 and then cut off on the road to, and then past Tiverton and all points west.  It is a lovely road, but by God it's a slow road.  There aren't many passing places and when you're stuck behind a lorry, you are well a truly stuck behind a lorry.  But I got to the school just after 8am and was very warmly welcomed.  The kids were lovely and the teachers charming, and the morning just seemed to zip past.  It was such a pity it was just the morning, just a half day.  We finished just before midday with a rip roaring jousting tournament which was won by a very competent Gents team, which does their annual score the power of good. It now makes it:

GENTLEMEN 6.5 - 7.5 LADIES

As close as it has been for a long long time.

My drive back to Somerset was lovely, through late autumn sunshine, but the early start and excessive driving was starting to get to me and I could feel myself getting dangerously tired.  I am old enough, and wise enough to recognise these warning signs now, and so I pulled off the main road, parked up and had a little snooze in my car - only about half an hour, but it made all the difference and I felt refreshed and ready for action and continued the drive home.

After a very nice weekend of not doing a hell of a lot - OK I went round a few charity shops, but that was the limit of heart racing excitement - I was off on the Sunday evening for a drive back to Essex and a few days with Amanda and James.  As ever it was so nice to see my little boy when I got there, even though he was spark asleep and snoring like a good un on my arrival, but he looked so angelic!  I had the Monday at leisure in the sparkling metropolis of Basildon before getting up relatively early on the Tuesday for a trip to a new school for me again, the delightfully named Holy Family Catholic School in South Benfleet in Essex.  It's funny, I am always slightly wary of going into Catholic schools, simply because of Henry's track record, but I am always rewarded with a warm welcome and usually some fabulous kids.  And today was no different.  Some of the loveliest teachers I have met in a long time, really they could not do enough for me which was very sweet of them.  The kids were great as well, only about 30 of them, but full of beans and much fun.  We had such a good morning, and an equally entertaining afternoon.  The jousting crowd was boosted by all of years 3, 4 and 6 joining the year 5 I was already with, so the hall was packed to the rafters with very excited children.  The first ladies semi final was a scruffy affair, with one team in particular going out of their way to seemingly smash most of my jousting kit to pieces.  But the final was of high quality as ever, and deafeningly loud with such a big crowd, and culminated in a win for the Gents again!

GENTLEMEN 7.5 - 7.5 LADIES

And so we are back where we started.  But well done to the Gents who have fought right back this year and could perhaps take the lead mid year for the first time ever!  Let's see what happens tomorrow.

Speaking of tomorrow I am off up and early in the wee small hours again for a return visit to Martham Junior School near Great Yarmouth in Norfolk.  So wish me dry conditions, an empty road and pleasant kids - mind you, they're usually brilliant at Martham, so I am hoping that will continue.  Night night!

Billericay Dicky and the Tudor Revels

An early version of the Tiller Girls.  Not a raging success.

After all the ridiculous hammering up and down the M4, it was nice to spend a couple of slightly more restful days in Essex with my ex wife Amanda and my lovely son, James.  They have both been offered roles in an am dram production of "A Christmas Carol", with Amanda playing one of the old crones who sells off all of Scrooge's wares after he has died in the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come bit (and I refuse to make any comments about type casting, really), and James is playing the little boy that Scrooge asks to go and buy a turkey for Bob Cratchitt on Christmas morning.  I helped them with a couple of read-throughs before their latest rehearsal, and they were both near word perfect already!  James is going to be a star, I can tell, and his Mum isn't too shabby in the acting stakes either!

The Friday morning had me returning to one of my favourite schools in Essex - South Green Junior in Billericay.  I was warmly welcomed as ever by the lovely staff, and had another pleasant experience shortly before I was due to start my show by the appearance of my dear old friend Kevin Rowley!  He runs a company called Comprehensive Piano Services, and one of his jobs is to look after the servicing and tuning of all the pianos in the state schools of Essex and beyond.  He was there to re-fit a pedal on South Green's upright which had come off at high speed during a particularly violent interpretation of Grieg's Piano Concerto.  This is of course completely made up, I have no idea how the pedal came off, but off it was, and Kevin was the man for the job.  We had a little chat, but just as we really got cracking the children arrived for their morning and Kevin had to shoot off.  Well we had a great day with the children - tremendous fun, full of laughs and much noise.  Lunch was as ever served by the charming lady at South Green who does the food there - what a nice person she is! And then we were back for a mad afternoon, culminating in a very loud joust which the boys managed to win.  So our score clicks over to the slightly surreal score of:

GENTLEMEN 3.5 - 5.5 LADIES

I packed my stuff away and headed back to Amanda's house.  I offered to take James out to dinner that evening with his Mum, anywhere that he wanted.  The choice was his.  The Ivy?  Claridges?  The Fat Duck?  Nope.  He chose - Pizza Hut, as ever.

I was up early the next morning for the drive from Essex down to Southampton and my appearance at the event called "Meet the Ancestors" run by a local historical group in Southampton called The Tudor Revels.  I was bound to get the coffee one.  I was due to give another outing to my "Henry's Horrid History" show. I set off round the M25 in high spirits, but it was bound not to last.  Warnings began being broadcast on the radio stating that the M25 was shut in both directions by the M23 due to a massive pile up and traffic was at a standstill.  I plumbed in a detour route on my sat nav, but the stupid machine kept trying to take me back to the M25.  Anyway, I ended up cutting right across country in grey lowering weather, with pretty much everybody else appearing to try the same thing as I got held up in ever slower traffic jams on what I would imagine are normally quite charming A roads.  Arundel looked nice, if gridlocked, and I made a note to pop back and visit sometime when I wasn't in a hurry.  In the end a two hour drive from Basildon to Southampton ended taking nearly 4 hours.  I had been given directions to a nearby primary school to the venue where performers could park their cars in safety.  I arrived at the school two hours late to find the gates securely locked and not a sign of any one in sight.  I drove round to the little Tudor side street where the event was taking, nearly wiping out the town crier and the wise woman on the bonnet of my Mazda.  One of the organisers popped over to the car park and let me in, which was very sweet of her.  I had told lots of my old Skandia friends that I was appearing in Southampton (Skandia Life being a company I worked for in Southampton between 1998 and 2003 - just in case you haven't read past blog entries), and I was delighted to see some familiar faces!  First off there was Camilla Kennedy, who I hadn't seen since I left Skandia, then there was Kathryn Lee, up until this point the only person from my Skandia days to see me perform as Henry as she, her mum and her daughter came out to Barrington Court one weekend a couple of years ago to see me, which was really sweet of her!  And then there was the lovely Tracie Callaway-Sayce, her husband and two kids, again, someone I had not seen since 2003.  You can see the four of us all together in the Tiller Girl pose in the photo above.  We are, left to right, Camilla, Kathryn, Some old Tudor ruin, and Tracie.  Then I bumped into the gorgeous Sarah Morris, who was there at the show giving a talk about her books and signing copies.  Great to see her again.  Such a lovely lovely lady.  Well I was doing my show in St Julien's Chapel (not Sandy's) and we were packed out!  Staff on the doors were turning people away which was a shame for them, but most gratifying.  The show went down a storm - I chose Camilla to play Anne Boleyn and took great delight in chopping her head off - only pretend of course.  When I finally finished the show and went outside all three ladies were waiting to see me, and I was roundly hugged and congratulated.  Then along came dear old Graham Orris (Or Goff as we know him!), again late of Skandia, with his wife and children - they had been one of the groups who had arrived too late to gain access to the show.  Poor lad.  After some lovely goodbyes from the Skandia crew, I walked back to the car park with Sarah Morris, had a cuddle and goodbye from her, which was very nice, and then began the long slog back to Somerset.  The drive back was fine and I finished  the evening with a nice bottle of wine and some lovely memories of seeing such lovely old friends again.

About the most exciting things that have happened this week have been getting my car MOT'd, which amazingly it passed (!!!!!!) and then getting some of my costume repaired by the sainted Judy Hares in Martock.  Back on the road again this week with visits to Bromsgrove and Preston.  Thank God for that MOT.

Two Hever Weekends



Ronseal.  Just don't try this at home.

If it's a weekend in August then it must be time for some jousting at Hever Castle in Kent.  As usual a fun weekend was had with the Knights of Royal England, and it was as ever a delight to have Michelle Coda with me as Anne Boleyn.  We love doing the shows and despite moaning about how long it takes, we really enjoy our walk back from the jousting arena to the Castle.  We get stopped virtually ever two or three paces for photos with groups ranging from family groups with loads of children, to hen parties and bewildered looking Chinese tourists.  We also tot up how many times we get asked if we are hot in our costumes.  To save you time, everyone who might come to see us joust, yes we are hot.  Very very very hot.

James, my lovely son, is always at my side as the King's herald, but on the first of the two weekends, on the Sunday, his Mum Mandy came along and accompanied us after the show back to Somerset for a few days.  Somerset was where James was born back in 2002 and I always enjoy taking him for visits to his old haunts, keeping the memories alive for him.  We had a lovely time over the three days they were down, none more so than when we took James down to West Bay in Dorset, where the TV series "Broadchurch" with David Tennant was filmed and he enjoyed himself immensely catching crabs (steady) down at the harbour.  His patience, not good at the best of times, was tested severely.  We recommended that he should put his net in, leave it for at least five minutes before checking it.  His net was barely in the water for more than 30 seconds before he was hauling it out and cursing his bad luck without a crab in sight.  We finally persuaded him to leave the net in slightly longer and he promptly pulled out a crab of Brobdingnagian proportions, much to the chagrin of the other children similarly fishing around him.  The rest of his catches didn't really live up to that opening promise, but he thoroughly enjoyed himself.  We crowned a fine morning with fish and chips from the wrapper while sitting on the front.  Lovely.

We met up with Sue English and Ian Weston from Portals to the Past who were having a little holiday in Somerset.  We had a fine dinner with them at the Duke of York Pub in Shepton Beauchamp, which was just like the old days.  The next day we headed back to the south east so we could prepare for yet more jousting at Hever Castle.  We were lucky with the weather again and the shows seemed to be getting better and better.

And so this week I am down at (you guessed it) Hever Castle filming a quick promo video for them, then on the Friday and Saturday I am back at H***r C****e (fill in the blanks yourself) for more jousting before then heading up to Essex to visit Castle Hedingham for the Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday for the final two jousting days of the season.  It has been terrific fun, hard work and I can't wait till next season.

Accidents Will Happen

Good King Hal attempting to keep his tights in the standing load position.

So with only a few hours to catch our breath after finishing at Hever, the jolly old Knights of Royal England, plus a rotund Tudor King and his young Squire rolled into Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire for three more days of jousting mayhem.  Blenheim is situated in the delightful little town of Woodstock just to the north of Oxford.  It's a place that had corpses being discovered at embarrassingly regular intervals in the whole world of Inspector Morse, but is as genteel and backwater a place as you can possibly find.  James and I drove up after a couple of days R&R in Somerset and I had promised James a breakfast at one of his favourite haute cuisine outlets - Little Chef to you and me.  But do you think I could find one once we got on the A34 north?  Not a chance.  I even resorted to typing it into my sat nav, which promised that there was one just two miles further up the road.  We drove there only to discover it had morphed into a Costa Coffee house.  We had two sausage baps, a cup of coffee and an orange juice and it really did Costa bloody fortune.  What rip offs these places are.

We arrived at Blenheim Palace and were warmly greeted by Jeremy, Kim and everyone else from the group.  The weather forecast for the first day was not brilliant, but we were treated to blazing sunshine and sun burn all round.  The first two shows on the first day passed with little or no big problems, and after a lovely meal at the Woodstock Arms hotel in the evening, James and I left the young jousters to their usual revels and headed off to our luxurious hotel.  (OK, OK, it was a Travelodge).  We arrived back at the Palace on the Saturday morning expecting to see the usual collection of hangovers, jousters slumped in chairs and not much movement.  But there was little or no sign of anyone around the horse box, most of the jousters were working like smoke over in the arena, getting everything ready for the show, and there was no sign of Jeremy, Kim or their Land Rover.  Sam's girlfriend, Vanessa then appeared at the door of the horse box.  We said good morning and I asked her if J and K were off in town doing some shopping.  No, apparently they were off at A&E at the local hospital with Mungo.  What had happened?  During some "hi-jinx" on the Friday night, whilst highly intoxicated (i.e. pissed out of their brains) an incident occurred that had somehow culminated in Mungo falling heavily against a parked car and breaking his shoulder.  Blimey.  I was glad we had left early.  Jeremy and Kim then returned with faces like thunder and it suddenly became apparent why all the younger jousters were beetling around desperately working their socks off getting everything ready for the two shows that day.  Just before the show Mungo himself returned to the site via a taxi with his arm in a sling and slightly sheepish expression on his face.  After all that the two shows had to be good, and they were.  We were hit with a little bit of rain during both shows, but nothing like the deluge of last year.  The apres show dinner at a local Chinese restaurant was very nice and also highly restrained after the previous nights shenanigans.

Sunday was the final two days of Blenheim this year.  Two more good shows went by, with all the incidents saved for our final tournament.  At the beginning of the second show, we do a gag where I address the audience about what qualities a person needs to become a great Knight - and all the while I am saying this, someone (usually Sir William of Antioch) mimes them behind me, with the final pay off being something they very obviously can't have.  In Sir William's case it is always a head of luxurious hair.  As Sir William was away, Dan was filling in, and his pay off was to be totally terrified of swords.  For this he was to leap onto the centre tilt, look at his sword, scream like a girl and then jump off the tilt.  Not exactly Emmy Award winning stuff, but a bit of fun.  On this day we had had a bit of a shower just before the show, and as Dan leapt onto the tilt, he didn't realise how slippery it was, and as I was about to deliver my line "but what a Knight needs most of all..." his legs shot away from under him and he fell down, completely cross-barring himself right in the old Niagara's.  Therefore I quickly changed my pay off line to: "What a Knight really needs is... (CRUNCH).... a pair of fully functioning cobblers.  So that's you out, Dan", which got the biggest laugh of the day.  And still our accidents weren't over.  Right at the very end of the tournament, during a skill exhibition by both teams, my son James who was sitting in the Royal Box to my right, was getting very excited and was jumping up and down in his seat.  I looked away to commentate on some action to my left, at which point there was an enormous crash to my right, which at first I assumed was a horse bouncing off the Royal Box, such was it's score on the Richter Scale, and the fact that it caused all of the flags around the Royal Box to collapse and fall apart.  What it was was James' chair falling backwards off the Royal Box and bringing all the standards with him.  It was a big fall and he could easily have been hurt, but thankfully he was fine, just with a very bruised ego.  We finally finished the show and made our way back to the car.  It had been a fine weekend at Blenheim, memorable for a lot of different reasons, but it was good to be on our way home. 

This weekend we are back at Hever for another three days of fun jousting.  It will be nice to see Michelle and Vix again, but sadly Mungo is now out for the rest of the year.  Alcohol sales in the Edenbridge area are going to suffer, BIG TIME.

Auditions, Falcons and Hedingham

To be honest, the Five Star reunion was not a raging success as one member of the group at least had really let himself go...

Some while ago, I had spent a great deal of my spare time trying to get on to the ITV quiz show "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?"  Well I clearly did, certainly considering the amount of time and effort I put into getting a longed for audition, but whatever the reason it was never to be and I was never called up to the studio and let things happen.  Roll on to modern times and there is a game show on daytime ITV at the moment called "Tipping Point", which revolves around this enormous version of one of the old coin waterfall games so splendidly popular in British seaside resorts down the years.  However, instead of a few pence or some crappy novelty toy that might occasionally fall out, for every coin you knock down on this programme, they give you £50 - and it soon adds up!  Answer a few not very challenging general knowledge questions and you can gain control of the machine and can, if luck is on your side, win up to £10,000.  I was watching an episode the other day and one of the questions a lady had was "which island is linked to the Welsh mainland by the Menai Straits Bridge?"  She thought long and hard before replying "The Isle of Man?"  Now that would be one hell of a length bridge.  Anyway, I made enquiries about getting on this show as I fancied winning some cash, found the production teams details and applied.  And LO!  It came to be that I was asked to come and audition for said "Tipping Point".  The time and date for this was on the Tuesday morning at 11am, and I had to get to West Kensington Village for this audition.  I caught the 7.30am train from Crewkerne and as I had booked the tickets on line and in advance I got cheap ones that meant I could bump myself up to 1st class for there and back and still pay less than the normal ticket price!  1st class was nice but I was amazed by the lack of leg room, Thai masseuse, chateu neuf de pap and beef wellington.
I caught a taxi from Waterloo to West Kensington Village and was soon at the production office for the audition.  I was greeted by several very blonde, perma tanned young men called "Tarquin" or some such, who I would imagine were fans of hi-energy disco and had an extensive knowledge of where to go to dance to it in north London.  I was with about 16 other people - first we had to take part in a general knowledge quiz which seemed relatively easy, then we had to stand in front of a camera and be interviewed and talk about ourselves, which as you know is not something that I struggle with.  And that was it!  I was soon back at Waterloo and then on the train back to Crewkerne.  It was a lot of travelling for a very short audition, but who knows.   Now I had to wait and see.
Wednesday I drove up to Essex to see my lovely son James and his Mummy, and all in readiness for a trip on the Thursday up to Norfolk and a visit to Falcon Junior.  I had horrendously double booked myself a couple of weeks ago, and the day I was at Bathampton I should have been at Falcon.  What a twit I was.  I apologised profusely and Falcon were kind enough to invite me back a few days later.  As you can imagine I got a lot of ribbing on my arrival with comments such as "decided to turn up today, have you?" or "remembered us this time, did you?"  But it was a lovely day with all the kids and the teachers.  Much fun was had by all. The final joust was astonishing - the boys were so far in front but somehow got stuck on the final quoit and could not collect it, allowing the ladies to toddle past and clinch an unlikely victory.  Our score then goes to:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 24 LADIES

I had a day or two at leisure before on the Sunday and Monday of the bank holiday heading up to Castle Hedingham in Essex for two days jousting with the Knights of Royal England and also with the lovely Tudor Roses in attendance as well.  We were blessed with the weather and had two lovely days with much laughter and fun.  It was nice to have my lovely son James at my side as my squire for the two days and he really seemed to get into the swing of things again.  This morning we are heading down to Kent to Leeds Castle for some more jousting.  I am only there for the Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, so if anyone is trying to avoid me, go and see the jousters on the Friday, Saturday or Sunday.  You can't say I don't give you good advance warning.  Alas this morning the weather has broken and it looks like we'll be jousting in the shallow end again.

Newberries, please!

Good King Hal suddenly noticed Victoria Pendleton had finally found her way into the shower block.  Grabbing his loofah and a soap on a rope, he was arrested shortly afterwards.

Last year I made my first appearance at Newberries School in Radlett in Hertfordshire and from my recollections I can see that I had an appalling journey to the school mainly because of the dear old M25.  I'd already experienced the joys of this road on Saturday morning when I drove up from Somerset to Essex and got stuck in God-awful traffic in the road works at Clackett Lane in beautiful sunny Kent.  As ever when it finally cleared and you were on your way there was nothing to see, so I have no idea what caused the problem.  But back to Newberries - I was determined not to have a 45 minute journey turn into a 2 hour marathon like last year, so I set out bravely early at just before 6am.  I arrived at the front door of the school at 6.45am.  I think the word is "bugger".  So with approximately an hour and 15 minutes to kill sitting on my jacksy in a Mazda in a quiet suburban back road in Radlett, I would need to be at my most creative to keep my mind active in this predicament.  So I went to sleep.  Genius!

Luckily I woke up in time and as I went in I was greeted by the caretaker.  I couldn't remember him from last year, but he was bound to remember me.  "Who are you?  What do you want?" he said.  Smashing.  Er... Henry VIII?  Tudor Day?  Big fat unlovable ginger psychopath to entertain and educate your pupils?    Yes, he knew who Henry VIII was but he didn't know me - this was because he was a new caretaker, the previous one having obviously taken one look at me last year and realised that his life was now complete and had retired.  Ah, bless...  The teachers remembered me, thank goodness and I was treated like Royalty for the day.  It was only about 30 children from year 4 today, but they had all made strenuous efforts with their costumes and were very enthusiastic about the day which was brilliant.  The morning went by with few hold ups and much laughter.

Lunch was fish goujons followed by some delicious fresh fruit.  Back to Tudor times and laughs aplenty with the stocks/pillory before we went into the jousting.  First up was a ladies race... well, words fail me.  I have been travelling round as Henry VIII for nearly 10 years now and done close to 1,000 shows, each one with a jousting tournament at the end.  In all that time, I have never seen two such utterly incompetent ladies teams.  Quintaines were knocked over,  quoits went flying and hysterics were had.  At first the teacher (Sue Rolfe) and I, laughed openly, but it went on and on and on and on, until our laughter ceased and we just looked on in silent amazement.  Eventually one of the teams staggered over the winning line and qualified for the final.  The two gents teams were brilliant and fought tooth and nail through to a tense finish.  It was obvious this final was going to be quite spectacularly one sided.  But I was wrong, not entirely, just mostly.  The Gents still won, but not by the cricket score most people had expected.  It was a lot closer than you could possibly have predicted.  So another gents win.  The score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 15 - 22 LADIES

The drive back round the M25 was relatively easy as well and I was soon back with Amanda and my lovely son James at their house in Basildon.  Today has been a day off which has been nice, but I am back in Tudor times tomorrow for a return visit to Lee Chapel Primary School in Basildon, so at least I don't have to be up desperately early.

Meanwhile at Scott Base, Antarctica...

The cheery sign that greeted us as we arrived at Baldock Hinxworth Travelodge.

Back to jousting for the weekend, and what a weekend it was.  Freezing cold, a howling wind and misery personified. Myself, James, Shelley and Owen travelled up from the South East round to Knebworth House, praying with each mile that we clicked off that temperatures would rise and the fluttering flakes of snow on the windscreen would abate.  Would they heck.

On arrival at Knebworth we were followed in by Sir William of Antioch, much to Owen's delight and wound our way through the deer rich grounds to where the Knights of Royal England had parked their horse box.  On our first greeting we were informed that lots of them were struck down with the old dreaded "Nawab of Pataudis", after a particularly virulent chicken korma the night before.  Several of them were still back in their hotel happily barfing their way through the morning.

We did both shows on the Easter Sunday - and by heck it was cold, but we all agreed that by the end of the second show there was a definite rise in the overall temperature.  Shelley, Owen, James and I then drove up the A1(M) towards our overnight stop at Baldock Hinxworth Travelodge.  I had booked this several months in advance and was quite sure I had got a bargain.  I was wrong.  This was quite possibly one of the filthiest, grimiest hotel experiences I have ever encountered.  James and I  in our room were quite lucky - it was just the usual frugal room with the odd spot of mould in the bathroom.  Shelley's room was quite different - it appeared to have been cleaned on a regular basis by a group of people with the norovirus and amnesia.  There was quite literally crap everywhere - smeared walls, mould in the bathroom, splatter marks in the bathroom, large embarrassing stains in the bedroom, a broken leg on the bed that made the whole thing creak and even suspicious large brown splat stains on the net curtains.  Really, in retrospect I should have offered to swap rooms with her, but I didn't and I bitterly regret that.  I wasn't much of a gentleman.

We cheered ourselves up with a really genuinely nice dinner at a Beefeater in Stevenage, where the staff could not have been more helpful if they tried.  So nice were they that after our awful night at the Travelodge we went back to the Beefeater for breakfast - and James and Owen both got eggs from the Easter Bunny there, so everyone was happy.

Amazingly, the Monday at Knebworth was even colder.  My weekend was also marred with awful tights that kept making a break for the border (i.e. heading south) and caused me to be almost late for the second show on the Sunday.  By the end of the final show on the Monday I was in the Royal Box commentating with the owner of Knebworth, Lord Cobbold, and my hands were so cold I could barely feel the microphone in my fingers.  But we got through it.

I am off to Bourne Hall Museum in Epsom today for a couple of Henry's Horrid History Shows, then it is back down to Somerset for an appearance on Friday night at Mudford Village Hall (All together now: "HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD!") and then a few days in Wales with James visiting my parents.

Whoever is Holding Spring Hostage, Can You Release It? Please!

Spring last year - you remember?  Sunny and warm.  Dry.  No wind.  Ring any bells?

With winter showing no sign of abating for the time being, we plod on through what must be the longest season in the history of humanity.  According to my records winter started on June 6th 2012 and is still going.  So that's global warming that is...  Climate change?  Yeah, that as well.  All I know is that I have icicles on all of my exposed areas and permafrost in my codpiece.

My latest Henry shenanigans saw me last Saturday (the 16th) bowling up at BBC Somerset in Taunton for an appearance on the Emma Britton Show.  This was a bit different to my previous appearances as it wasn't as just one of her panel commenting on certain news items.  This time I was to be interviewed as one of her "Somerset Lives" series.  I was following in the footsteps of Michael Eavis and Tara Newley, so in my own warped little mind I was hugely famous for a day.  I got to Taunton early and had a nice wander round the shops - it is a fine town for shopping, but as I was virtually skint it was more a case of pressing my face against the glass and looking longingly in at the goodies inside until I was chased off by irate shop girls.  I walked up to the BBC studio in Park Street and was greeted by Emma with a big hug, which was nice. I sat in the Green Room sipping tea and receiving messages of good luck from various friends around the globe who would be tuning in, including Amanda and James in Essex, and Shelley and Sir Owen in Maidstone.  And then I was on!  It was a nice relaxed interview, lasting about half an hour and lots of laughs.  If you got a chance to hear it I hope you enjoyed it and if you didn't........ what the HELL were you doing???  Emma successfully grilled me about all aspects of my life and I did my best to answer the questions and be entertaining, so hopefully that worked!

On the Sunday I popped over to Barrington Court to see Matthew Applegate and drink more tea.  We had a nice relaxed chat and I offered some ideas to him for various Henry walkabouts over the summer, should it ever decide to put in an appearance, and the possibility of a one day "Tudor Festival" - watch this space for more...

Monday I was back on the road, driving up to Essex ready for a Henry Day at a new school for me - Woodham Ley Junior in Benfleet near Southend.  As I drove into the car park, the lady who had just driven in in front of me saw me parking and shouted "You MUST be Henry!" which I took as a compliment.  What a lovely school!  It was a fabulous day - great fun.  A nice group of about 60 children, mixed across years 3, 4 and 5.  I did my opening bellow ass Henry to the group and one little girl immediately dissolved into tears and threw herself at her nearest teacher, before being lead sobbing from the room.  And that was the last I saw of her for the day.  I hope I haven't damaged her permanently.  The rest were a really lively group, ready to laugh and join in with everything.  After lunch we had more fun and nonsense and ended up with a joust that was absolutely deafening.  Inevitably the ladies romped to an easy victory that now moves our score on to:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 20 LADIES

This is like England v San Marino.  Or England v Wales at rugby if you follow my drift.  I can almost declare this contest over already.  Come on Gents!

I had an evening with Amanda and James, my lovely son watching old Doctor Who episodes with him - yes, I am truly slowly turning him into an anorak.  The next day I drove down to Kent to spend the day with my lovely Shelley, before heading back to Somerset that night.  It was a nice little trip but over too soon.

And so the Easter Holidays are virtually upon us.  You can tell this by looking out the window and seeing elderly people being mauled in the streets by muderous gangs of rabid starving Polar Bears.  When IS spring going to start?  It must be soon.  Even Carol Kirkwood has disappeared from BBC Breakfast.  She's probably frozen in her dressing room.  My next Henry appearances are next weekend when jousting returns (ice storms permitting) at Knebworth House in Hertfordshire, and then I shall be back at Bourne Hall Museum in Epsom after that for a day of Henry's Horrid History on April 3rd.  Book early to avoid frost bite.

Blog Author Stuck For Title

The King, treating the latest incumbent in his pillory to the dignity and respect they had come to expect.

Look out the window, go on.  Do it.  Look out of the window.  That's March that is.  T'rffic, eh?  Nothing like it for lifting the spirits after what feels like three months of darkness, snow, ice, howling winds, war, death, pestilence and George Osborne.  To be honest it looks exactly the same as February did, only apparently Carole Kirkwood on Breakfast TV insists it is two degrees warmer this week than it was last week.  Now Carole has a very warm occluded front and I for one would love to get my hands on her isobars, so I take her word as the truth.  If this continues over the next few weeks we should be able to boil kettles on our car bonnets by mid May.

When I published the last instalment of this travesty of the English language as she is wrote (sic), I was still going all girly and wobbly kneed over a night out at a Justin Currie gig in Bridport.  Well, to be honest I still am, but only slightly less so you will be thrilled to learn.  The week after the Currie night (geddit?) saw me back in the car and heading back to Essex - it was a dreadful journey.  Through the roadworks near Clacket Lane on the M25, some Latvian dickweed had decided to smash his lorry through the side barriers and then leaving it smeared halfway across the already narrowed carriageway.  I was stuck here for just over two hours trying to get past, and all this with a bladder the size of Austria and nowhere for relief.  I finally arrived at Amanda's house in Basildon and promptly re-filled Hanningfield reservoir single handed.  It was that good I had to have a cigarette afterwards.  It was lovely to see Amanda and my lovely son James.  He is now wearing glasses and he looks great in them.  A sort of subtle mash up of John Lennon and Harry Potter.

Tuesday 26th February - my 46th birthday.  46?  Jesus.  I am no longer even a record speed.  I've done 16, 33 1/3 and 45, so it's just 78 to go and that's it.  I was to appear at St Mary's School at South Woodham near Chelmsford. I had last appeared at this school back in 2006, but most of them there reckoned they remembered me.  It was a group of about 60 kids today and mixed across years 3, 4 and 5.  They were an absolutely fabulous group of kids, very funny and attentive and we had a fine day.  During the lunch break the teachers from the group suddenly came into the staff room where I was sitting with a birthday cake, complete with candles!  I was very moved. Back in the hall getting ready for the afternoon I was delighted to see that one of the dinner ladies looked like River Song from Doctor Who.  "Hello Sweetie!" I shouted to her.  She looked at me as if I was wearing a jacket doing up at the back and frothing at the mouth.  Mind you, so would you if someone dressed as Henry VIII just suddenly bellowed "Hello Sweetie!" at you while you were removing the shattered remnants of cottage pie from a school hall floor and had no idea of who the hell River Song was and what her catchphrase was.  The jousting after that was a good show, very close and exciting and ended with a long overdue win for the Gentlemen.  This finally gives the gents another point and moves us on to:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 19 LADIES

That evening I took Amanda and James out to dinner, which was very nice.  The following day I drove down to Maidstone to see my lovely Shelley and took her out to lunch at Mexa Mexa our favourite restaurant in town.  We had a lovely day together sharing the sort of intimacy only and man and woman deeply in love can truly experience.   Yes, we wandered round loads of charity shops looking for bargains, mad passionate loonies that we are.  I drove home to Somerset that night, and apart from spending some time with my mate Pete Flanagan and a nice evening pint at the Rose and Crown at East Lambrook with Matthew Applegate, not a lot has been happening.  But a rest is as good as a change.  Or something.

Coming up the straight for Henry, I have an evening at Leeds Castle, some filming at Hever Castle, I am appearing on Emma Britton's BBC Somerset show as one of her "Somerset Lives" on March 16th and by the end of this month we will begin jousting again with a visit to Knebworth House.  Hoorah!

So what the hell would you have named this blog entry?  Exactly.  Me neither.