Ilchester, Squire! Quite staggeringly popular...

A tense moment at the Chelsea Flower Show, when John Terry (just out of picture) brings down Monty Don on the edge of the area with a late sliding tackle, a kick on the butt and three savage rabbit punches.  When questioned by Police he grunted "I slipped."  No charges were brought but a petunia was squashed.

And so it was, with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart (a drugs test will be implemented shortly) Good King Hal sallied forth from his man cave in Crewkerne for the short jaunt to Ilchester and a return visit to Ilchester Primary School.  I had last visited a couple of years back and remember it being a very cold dark morning driving over there.  Today was completely different - bright, sunny and full of early spring promise.  I plumbed in the post code for the school into my sat nav and began the journey.  I was at first suspicious of the sat nav when it tried to make me turn off the A303 ages before the Ilchester exit.  It seemed to be hell bent on getting me to visit a small field on the outskirts of Ilchester where there was no buildings at all.  Now I know Michael Gove's management of schools in the UK has been about as effective as a condom machine in the Vatican, but surely even that incompetent rubber brained arse faced twat couldn't make a complete school disappear... could he?  No, he couldn't.  Michael Gove couldn't even walk upstairs and fart at the same time to be honest.  I remembered on my previous visit driving down through an estate and past a small Nisa store that looked like something out of an abandoned Soviet town from 1973 - and, ah yes!  There it was.  I drove past some very familiar looking houses and then found.... The INFANT school.  Not the Junior school like I wanted.  I went in and asked a breakfast club assistant where the Junior school was.  She informed me to go back to the next roundabout and go straight over.  I did this and now found myself in another completely anonymous faceless housing estate, with not a sign of any school.  My sat nav was by now doing the technology version of rocking backwards and forwards and stroking it's own arms repeating the words "go to a happy place" over and over.  I eventually surrendered and phoned the school.  Where are you? I cried, wiping away snot, tears and mascara.  It turned out I was about 20 yards away, but across the road away from the housing estate - and there it was.

Well, it was a fantastic day.  Terrific fun, a big group of about 80 children from years 3 and 4.  I was recommended to watch out for one little lad in particular who they said could be a handful.  Well, he certainly made himself known to me, but he was fine.  He had ADHD and to the extent that he just could NOT sit still.  It was honestly as if someone had just set fire to his trousers, he was up down, going to sit with the teachers, back with his mates, twisting here, there and everywhere.  And all the while looking like the dead spit of the Milky Bar Kid.  He was great fun.  The morning was great fun and seemed to be over very quickly.  During the lunch break I sat and chatted to a lovely red headed lady who I said would make an excellent Queen Elizabeth I if she was interested in history.  Was she interested in history?  Do ursine creatures defecate in sylvan glades?  Hell, yeah.  She had just finished an archaeology degree at Cardiff Uni and was utterly fascinated by the whole Tudor era and the fact I was making a living out of being Henry VIII. I urged her to get a Queen Elizabeth frock made and begin prancing round stately homes.  I will put her in touch with Judy Picton and Zarrina Bull, the two finest costume makers I know.

The afternoon went by at a terrific rate and we finished on yet another fine jousting tournament with yet another fine win for the ladies.  Is there any point keeping score any more?  The lads are being trounced this year.

GENTLEMEN 13.5 - 22.5 LADIES

Almost ten clear tournaments in front.  I had no trouble in getting home, though my poor old Mazda is sounding decidedly creaky these days.  Time for a change I think.  A bottle of wine put a big smile back on my face that evening.

I am back being Henry tomorrow at West Pennard School near Glastonbury, and then off to Essex for a few days before popping down to Leeds Castle with the Knights of Royal England for another jousting tournament down there.  It will be nice to see some familiar faces at the Castle.

Easter Theatre

Good King Hal was beginning to wonder if the courtesy car was not all it was cracked up to be.

I took my car in for it's MOT this morning. Dear old Popular Motors in Merriott, and the deeply sainted Ian Summers there, lent me a courtesy car as my Mazda was being done. It was a Renault Laguna, Ian reckoned it wasn't all that good. He was right. It was a shed on wheels to be honest. But such entertainment! Every time you went round a corner all the warning lights on the dashboard came on, then they slowly went out one by one as you straightened out. The engine temperature gauge starts at about magma, but then shoots down to something just below zero degrees Kelvin and then continues to yo-yo between the two for the rest of the time you are driving. The dashboard also lights up in different places as though you are constantly flicking the headlights on and off as you go. Marvellous stuff. I urge someone to go to Popular Motors and buy this vehicle. You will never be short of entertainment or something to talk about. On the way back from Merriott I stopped in Crewkerne at the big new Waitrose store and bought, amongst other things, a curry pot noodle. Now buying a pot noodle in Waitrose just feels dirty and wrong. It is like having dinner with the Queen whilst thunderously breaking wind with great force. Or meeting the Pope and constantly name dropping that your best mate is the Rev. Ian Paisley. I felt very naughty.

The previous day I had finished my brief tour of Essex with a return visit to the lovely Wickford Junior School. As ever, the kids were brilliant, superb costumes, good attitude and a readiness to laugh and enjoy themselves while they were learning. A pretty nice day all in all. Some of the teachers seemed a little distant on the day, I wasn't really sure what that was all about, but it was on the whole a good experience. The jousting was of a very high standard and ended with ANOTHER win for the gents! Amazing - three in a row. This now makes our year long score:

GENTLEMEN 16 - 23 LADIES

It's getting closer now. The gents will have another chance to close the gap again when tomorrow I am in Bristol for a first ever visit to Parson Street Primary School. I must keep an eye out for Tingtong Fanakapahn.

That Was One Hell of a Week That Was Part Two

James, on one of Julian's many motorbikes, keeping the rest of the family royally entertained.

So I arose in Temple Sowerby in the wee small hours of a Sunday morning. My head was thumping a little from the Stuart Maconie Fan Club outing from the previous night, but a couple of paracetamol soon put that matter to rest. I didn't disturb Andy and Kate as I left and was soon roaring down the M6 towards Essex and a rendezvous with Amanda and James. At first the traffic was minimal, but slowly, inexorably it built up the further south I got and the later the day became. I was tuned permanently to Radio 5 to hear any traffic news. When it did come it wasn't good. The main junction between the M1 and the M25 (which I was intending to use) was completely closed due to a multi-vehicle pile up. Honestly, some people are so insensitive. Didn't they know I was going to use that junction? Didn't they think about my important journey before they began smashing each other's cars into their neighbours? Swines! Therefore I had to make a quick detour across towards Bedford and over to the A14 and the M11. I got within a few miles of Basildon and Amanda's house when we ground to a complete halt on the A127. There was some motorbike rally going on and we all had to stop for them. I am not the world's biggest fan of motorbikes at the best of times, but at this very moment, after having driven for five hours from Penrith I personally would not have wasted my urine on any passing motorcyclist who happened to find himself ablaze at that time.

I eventually picked up Amanda and James, and we drove down to Kent and a stop at Cathy and Julian's house in Stockbury. My parents were there as well, on their way back from a holiday in Germany, so we all ended up together having a very nice family dinner. James had great fun playing around in Cath and Julian's garden as it is a little...ahem... stuffed with all the lovely lumps of rusting machinery that Julian is so fond of purchasing and that Cathy is so keen for him to get rid of. James took great delight in wearing one of Julian's crash helmets and sitting astride a mighty motorbike, much to the amusement of the rest of us - as you can see from the picture above. He even reckoned he was going to ride to Disneyland in Paris by himself. But that is another story.