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!

Epsom, Mudford, Newcastle Emlyn - now THAT'S cosmopolitan.

Mum and Dad Farley have really started blending in with the natives.  My father is on the right.

Following on from the horrors of Knebworth, my next sojourn into the delights of dressing up as a big Tudor jessie saw me driving round the M25 for a return appearance at Bourne Hall Museum in the leafy suburbs of Epsom and Ewell.  You may remember my visit I spoke about last year, and how Bourne Hall itself resembles a BBC Sci Fi special effect alien space ship from the 1970's - well it still does.  And much as I was hoping the entire cast of Blake's 7 were going to turn up and start teleporting me about, they didn't.  Not even Sally Knyvette, and she was seriously gorgeous back in the years before Margaret Thatcher, but more about her later.

I was greeted at the museum by it's two main men - David and Jeremy, both of whom have a touch of the Womble about them.  You tend to get the feeling that they actually live in the ramshackle store room they use as an office, and both of them have the look of people who don't see daylight very often.  You can imagine them walking out the front door and pausing in the sun to blink slowly and rub their eyes at the sparkling wonder of it all.  They are both lovely and greeted me with a welcoming cup of tea and various anecdotes they had just acquired about the local Home Guard from the second World War.  Once more my show was on down in the theatre in the bowels of the building, and once more we were packed out for both shows.  When I finished my first show I headed back up to their warren.... I mean office, for a spot of lunch which turned out to be an out of date jam doughnut with the consistency of a cannon ball, followed by a slice of lemon drizzle cake which was delicious.  So swings and roundabouts.  The second show was equally fun and we ended with a grand Tudor Foot Wrestling competition.  How do you describe Foot Wrestling?  Well I don't, just imagine trying to push someone over, without using your hands, standing on one leg and not being allowed to kick or stamp on your opponent.  Yeah, like that.

I drove back to Somerset from Epsom and got home about 6.30pm.  Cooking seemed like an incredibly stupid idea at this time and after such a long drive, so off to the Chinese I went for a delicious plate of MSG's floating in grease.  You could hear your arteries hardening and you chewed.

My next Henry show was on the Friday night at Mudford.  Mudford is a funny little village just to the north of Yeovil and on the way to the delightfully named Queen Camel.  They obviouly have a strong community spirit in Mudford and each Friday night at their delighful village hall they have an "event" where the guests arrive and get stuck into a nice buffet, drink some wine and are then entertained by some speech, singer or other entertainer.  This was their first Friday night event of the summer of 2013 and they had invited me along to be the "turn".  We had a lovely evening, an absolutely wonderful audience, about 50 people in total and lots of laughs.  I was well fed and watered (Shepherd and Neame Spitfire to quench my thirst) and a splendid evening seemed to be had by all.

And so to the weekend, and I was off to Wales to see my folks.  It is my father's birthday this week (today actually - the 9th) and originally there was supposed to be a whole phalanx of us trotting down the M4 to the land of song, rugby and worried sheep, but as life has unfolded this week with it's ups, but to be honest mostly downs, the car got emptier until in the end it was just me trolling down the road.  But I have had a lovely time in the kind welcoming embrace of my family - a lovely meal over at the Daffodil Pub, a visit to the National Wool Museum (believe it or not) and lots of bargains at all the fantastic antiques shops in Newcastle Emlyn.  I am off to the delightfully named Gwber tomorrow for a Henry show with the local Probus club.  Should be fun.

Oh and Margaret Thatcher kicked the bucket.  Even as we speak she is trying to privatise hell.

Birchfield, Brides and Books.

Anne Boleyn: You are Johnny Vegas and I claim my 400 groats.  Henry VIII:  Anne Boleyn, it is with great regret when I say - you're for the chop.

Snow?  What snow?  Almost as soon as it had come the inclement disgusting white stuff was on it's way out.  And good thing too.  My return visit to Birchfield Junior School in Yeovil was going to be a good one - all my visits there in the past had been equally entertaining.  The main road from Crewkerne to Yeovil is currently being dug up for some reason or other, so I found the early part of the journey involved lots of fannying around in minor country roads.  I arrived at the school under glowering grey skies and loaded my stuff into the hall.  As on my previous visits they have a large "Story Tellers" chair which they bring in, clean down and drape cloth over it to turn into a splendid throne for me.  Smashing.  Well it was, as in every visit I have made to the school, a real rip roaring fun day - a great sparky group of kids and lots of laughs.  The final joust was deafening and ended with ANOTHER win for the lads.  They are really on a roll now and have clawed the scores back to:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 13 LADIES

By the time I had got round to taking my props back out to the car, the rain that had been falling all day was slowly morphing into big fat round snowflakes that plopped down and refused to melt, the utter gits.  It snowed most of that night and for a good part of the following morning.  With a new covering of snow now in place my proposed visit to Riverside School in Hereford was certainly at risk and after a quick call to that school my visit was postponed until the 13th February.

On the Thursday, in the thick snow, I didn't go far aside from popping into the local Waitrose for some bits and pieces.  There was only one couple ahead of me at the checkout, an elderly couple of right old carrot crunchers.  Their stuff went through and they packed it away in various bags.  She pulled out a bulging leather purse, opened it and immediately a torrent of loose change exploded all over the floor.  Mostly coppers.  Her elderly husband and I then took to scrambling on the floor and picking them all up.  We poured the coins back into her purse which she zipped up.  The lady on the till then repeated their total.  "Oh yes" says the old lady, unzips her purse and.... there is a second explosion of loose change all over the floor.  I have to say that by now I was helpless with laughter and incapable of picking the change up this time.  When they had finally left and I got to the checkout girl she explained that they came in every week and ALWAYS did that.  So if you want a good bit of free entertainment folks, get yourselves down to Waitrose in Crewkerne and look out for this couple.

I drove to Kent on the Friday morning and spent some lovely time with Shelley and Owen.  On the Saturday afternoon I went to Essex and had some quality time with my lovely son James.  On the Sunday a group of us went to Detling Showground in Kent to check out the latest Wedding Fair and see if our proposed Tudor Wedding plan was looking good - and it was.  Michelle and I went in costume and got quite a bit of attention.  The cartoon above was done for us by the Artful Doodler - what a clever chap.  And I do look like Johnny Vegas in my picture, no matter what some people say.

Back down to Somerset and I was interviewed today by the lovely Marion Draper from the View From Crewkerne newspaper about my nearly 10 years of being Henry.  We met at Bilby's Cafe in Crewkerne and over a tea cake and pot of tea we put the world to rights.  I should be in next week's issue, so look out for that.  After bidding goodbye to Marion I wandered down to Gresham Books, a big antiquarian book seller at the head of Crewkerne High Street - saw a magnificent book from 1910 called "C B Fry's Who's Who of Cricket" in a leather bound jacket - wow.  I wanted it so much.  Till I saw the price. £125.  Ah, maybe not.  I'll wait till it comes out in paper back.  I'll get my purse out and release a tsunami of coppers.

The George Michael Hotel...

Good King Hal showing admirable composure after a particularly unsuccessful Temperance Society cheese and wine bash.

The weekend just gone has been very nice indeed.  My parents came down to stay from their home at Newcastle Emlyn and we had a fun time.  On the Sunday we went down to Portesham in Dorset for the Memorial Service for my cousin Jack.  Jack died in May and this was a chance to celebrate the life of a truly exceptional human being.   I have so many happy memories of my Uncle Jack - he was a true and proper English eccentric, intelligent, witty, creative and one of the warmest kindest men I have ever had the pleasure to meet.  We shall not look on his like again.  A few years ago when I made a Henry appearance at Abbotsbury Tythe Barn for their "Midsummer Medieval Mayhem", Jack kindly agreed to be a "Heckler" in the audience during my set.  He did such a fine job that he got more of an ovation than I did at the end!  The memorial service was full of song, poetry, music and happy memories - just perfect for this incredible man.  Jack - it was a pleasure to know you.  The world is a greyer colder place without you.

This evening, Monday, I was due to give another talk to a Rotary Club, this time Yeo Vale Rotary - their meeting was to take place at a hotel just south of Yeovil on the A37.  I noted the name of the hotel but kept struggling to remember it.  It's official name was The George Albert Hotel, but I kept thinking of either George Michael or Prince Albert, both of which can be quite hurtful.  One is a searing pain where you least want it, and the other is a genital piercing (BA-DOOM-TISH -  thank you, thank you).

I drove down in the slowly dimming light of the summer evening.  I was due on at 8.15pm so I arrived at the hotel at about 7.45pm and was warmly greeted by the lovely receptionist Louise.  I was sent up to a room to use as a dressing room.  It was one of the card entry system rooms - I could not get the door to unlock, so eventually I had to come back down to reception and ask the long suffering Louise to get me another card.  It was only when I went back up to the room that I realised I had to put the card and then take it out to get the door to unlock, not just leave it in as I had been doing.  What a prat.  I got in the room and then couldn't make any of the lights work.  This was turning into a nightmare.  So I got changed into my Henry togs in braille and then went downstairs, but not before I discovered that I could have got the lights to work in my room if I had simply popped the all powerful door card into another slot by the bedroom door.  DOH!.

Downstairs I waited to be summoned to the function room.  But the wait went on and on and on.  Finally I got into do my show at about 9pm.  Well it went great - not quite as storming as the show at I did at the Westland Centre a while back, but plenty of laughs and a real long warm round of applause at the conclusion!  So I got changed back in my now well lit and air conditioned room and then drove back through thick fog and headed for home.  Tomorrow is another early start with a visit to Maltman's Green School in Buckinghamshire.

Yeovil Probus and Dudley Do Right (with added Ghosts)

Anne Boleyn and Jane Seymour explain to the King their exact feelings about his rule of England, desire for a son and heir, and his treatment of women in general in Tudor England.  No solicitors were harmed during the making of this marital conflict.  If you have been affected by any of the topics raised in this photograph, please contact: Mrs Edna Colostomy, Dun Gossipping, Ratbag Road, Much Sniding in the Marsh, England.

Friday evening saw me finally complete a long standing promise, and this isn't the one for Lisa Rogers as the court injunction is still in place.  Cast your mind back, dear reader, to April 2011 when I wended my way up to sunny Stranraer in Scotland to go and view the footballing treat that Stranraer versus East Stirling promised.  I had travelled up with my father for the weekend with the proviso that I had to be back in Somerset for the Monday to give a talk to the fine upstanding members of the Probus Club in Yeovil.  Well, if you recall we had a bit of a nightmare with the car breaking down in Carlisle and being stranded in Cumbria until late on the Monday evening.  Luckily I had managed to get a message to the Probus club and explained my predicament and they were very kind and only ordered a partial fatwa.  The date was re-arranged, and then re-arranged again until it was finally settled that I should give my performance to the club and their good lady wives on the evening of Friday 25th May.  It was to be held at the Westland's Social Club in Yeovil, a place I had only ever visited once before and that was about 10 years ago when I went to an antiques fair and failed to buy anything.  I couldn't even remember what the club looked like.  I arrived on the Friday evening at about 7pm and to be honest it didn't look promising.  All I could see was what appeared to be a large garden centre and some tennis courts.  I asked a chap standing outside the "garden centre" if he knew where Yeovil Probus club normally meet and he assured me that after 15 years of working at this centre he hadn't got a clue.  Great.  I drove a bit further in and found the Social Club proper - a large 1970's square shaped building.  I parked up and went to walk in - and the first thing I saw was the horrific site of a poster advertising a forthcoming show by the highly talented and eloquent (not) rapper Dappy from N-Dubz.  Ooh, nasty and really something not to be seen, or indeed heard on an empty stomach.  I went inside to introduce myself but couldn't find anyone.  It appeared, from reading the "what's on" board in the lobby that Yeovil Probus were meeting in the Wessex Room.  I went down to this room, right at the back of the building, and it was completely empty and in semi darkness.  However, I was in the right place and eventually the club members and their wives began arriving.  I had been due on at 7.30pm, but events like this can sometimes be about as easy to organise as herding cats and in the end it was nearer 9pm before I was on.  It was a scorching hot night, but great fun.  They were a lovely responsive group, roared with laughter at most of my appalling old gags and I even got a chance to chop the head off a lady who used to serve me when I used to bank at Lloyds TSB many moons ago.  Smashing.  I partook of some of their buffet before heading home.  I stopped at a Spar petrol station on the way home as I fancied purchasing a bottle of wine to help me unwind, however I got to them about three nano-seconds after they had locked the front door for the evening.  I asked through the night till if the young lady serving could grab me a bottle of Shiraz.  "A bottle of wot?" she asked.  Shiraz, I replied.  "Wot?" her reply.  SHIRAZ! I yelled.  "Wot?" She said.  "Goodnight."  I said, and went home and stayed sober.

Up bright and early on the Saturday morning for a drive up to Dudley in the West Midlands.  I was appearing at Dudley Castle (which doubles as a zoo BTW) for "SPOOKFEST 2012", a ghost hunting and paranormal event hosted by TV's sweaty spiritual scouse medium Derek Acorah.  I was to be there with the Tudor Roses, late of Leeds and Sudeley Castles.  I was booked in at the Quality Inn Hotel in Dudley and arrived there and phoned the Tudor Roses to see if they had arrived, but they were having a horrendous journey and were stuck on the M25 still, so I checked into my room and ordered a sandwich on room service (£7 for a bleedin' ham baguette!) and settled down to munch on my priceless sarnie and listened to the Test Match on the radio.  About an hour or so later I got the message that the Roses had arrived!  We met up and went down to the car park where the Spookfest organisers were going to take us up to the Castle for a look about and a production meeting.  In the big castle courtyard the heat was stifling, but inside in our dressing room deep within the castle walls it was lovely and dark and cool.  It was only three of the Tudor Roses today - Lady Emma, Lady Erica and Lady Katherine, all chaperoned by Emma's other half, the near legendary Darren Wilkins and his ever-present camera.  We were joined by a Tudor music group that resembled either part of the Addams Family (if you were feeling uncharitable) or a pensionable version of Fleetwood Mac (if you were feeling even more uncharitable).  The plan was that we had to be changed into our gear and ready to rock'n'roll by 6pm to meet and greet the first punters as they wandered in to a Psychic Fair held in one of the Castle's restaurants.  Then at 8pm the main gates would open and the crowds could flock into the Castle courtyard where the main stage and show was to be performed, with various warm up psychics and comic turns entertaining everyone until Derek Acorah and Richard Felix, both late of TV's "Most Haunted" would then take over and carry on the ghost hunting.  Things would culminate with a night time night vision vigil in the Castle's under croft at about midnight.  Well we did our meet and greet - posed for hundreds of photos, greeted the customers as they came in when the 8pm gates opened.  By 9.30pm myself, Katherine and Erica were pretty much done in.  Emma and Darren were going to hang on for the late night vigil.  Therefore just as Derek Acorah was getting extra specially sweaty and psychic with the audience, Erica disappeared off into the night with her parents for the long drive home, and Katherine and I headed to the Castle gate and ordered a taxi to take us back to the hotel.  We both decided we needed a drink.

My wine hoodoo seemed to have struck again, Katherine and I burst into the bar, gasping for something cooling and alcoholic to be told they had just shut for the night.  We could still purchase a bottle of wine if we wanted to, so we bought a bottle of chilled Sauvignon Blanc (for a breathtaking £19) and settled down with two glasses to attempt to put the world to rights.  I hadn't really had much time at previous events to speak to Katherine, but she is a simply charming lady - quite staggeringly young and pretty, but very bright and sparky with it.  Ah, if only I were about 20 years younger and good looking - she could be mine!  ALL MINE I TELL YOU!  (We pause the blog here as Mr Farley has a sit down and a glass of water to recover.  Welcome back!).  We laughed and chatted for what seemed like only a brief period, but before we knew it the bottle of wine was empty and it was nearly 1.30am - a really lovely end to a hot and busy day.  I have no idea what time Emma and Darren got back from the vigil, but they and Katherine were up bright and early and away from the hotel by 8am.  I had intended to try and be up and wave all three of them off, but I slept through my alarm and didn't surface until about 9am.

I packed the car and was away from Dudley just after 10am and arrived back in an equally hot and sweaty Somerset by 12.30pm.  So I have spent a lazy Sunday afternoon drinking tea and watching the Test Match, preparing myself for more Henry shenanigans on Tuesday with a morning at Woodstock School in Bristol before driving up to Essex for Wednesday at Prettygate Junior in Colchester.  Right, kettle on, more tea and.....  relax.

Birchfield Primary, Yeovil

Good King Hal, looking camper than a row of pink tents, whilst lurking in the kitchens at Barrington Court. The Pot Noodle was ruined.

The drive across to Birchfield was nice and easy this morning. As I pulled into the car park of this lovely school in Yeovil I nearly ran into a recycling lorry that was busy...er... recycling things. That had just finished when I stepped from the car and was promptly nearly run over by two of the teachers arriving in a mud spattered VW Polo. Birchfield is a lovely school, always a pleasure to return to - friendly teachers, lovely kids and a nice atmosphere about the place. And it's local to me, which is definitely a plus point.

It was a largish group today, just under 100 children and the vast majority had dressed up. During the early part of the show I talk about some of the problems Henry suffered with Catherine of Aragon as they tried for children - about how the first child she gave birth to was a boy - I always then ask the group what they called the first child. Now this is a great test of Tudor knowledge as most people will guess at Edward, but of course the first, short-lived child was called Henry. Anyway, I asked the question and sure enough the first child I came to guessed "Edward", I informed them they were wrong. The second child guessed "Prince Edward" - nope still wrong. Amazingly about the next 6 kids I went to kept guessing different variations on the names Edward, Eddie, Prince Edward and even King Edward. You had to admire their tenacity.

Lunch was very nice and was spent in the company of the teachers and staff of this lovely school - but they were in and out like fiddlers elbows as they were being officially photographed this day. This caused a fair amount of moaning and distress for some of them. But I reckon they all looked fine! The afternoon went by at a fair old lick and the jousting was unbelievably loud and boisterous. It culminated in a fairly comfortable victory for the gentlemen - it wasn't even really close to be honest. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 23 - 27 LADIES

I finished to great acclaim and reloaded all the props back into the car. I had decided I needed to pop into central Yeovil to go to the bank. As I drove away from the school with streets still busy with children, I did what I always did which was to drive very slowly and carefully. Thankfully I did as coming along one small road a rather moth-eaten looking cat just suddenly wandered out of a garden and in front of my car. I slammed on the brakes and thankfully managed to avoid the suicidal moggy, but it certainly had it's nine lives quota reduced by one. I fought my way across town and got to the car park near the banks. It was closed and was being resurfaced by a bunch of arse scratching neanderthals in day glo overalls. I better head for home then.

Oh, and as I haven't mentioned it before... MANCHESTER CITY WON THE FA CUP ON SATURDAY! YES!!!!!! There, I feel better now... Got my folks coming to stay for a few days, with my next Henry show being a return visit to Haylands School in Ryde on the Isle of Wight.

Preston School, Royal Weddings & Barrington Court

Barrington Court. Not Westminster Abbey. I reckon my invite is still in the post to be honest.

The last Royal Wedding that I really remember was when Prince Andrew married Sarah Ferguson in 1986. I was laid up with a badly damaged knee and had no option but to watch the whole thing on TV at the time - I think my parents were punishing me at the time by tuning the telly to the wedding and then hiding the remote control, safe in the knowledge I was unable to walk across the room to find it. My other abiding memory of that wedding was the British gutter press' and their immediate and utter open dislike of Sarah Ferguson from day one. Her main problem, it seemed to me, was that she wasn't Princess Diana. Thank the Lord for that really.

This time around for Prince William and Kate Middleton's bash there was similar amounts of press enthusiasm and much over use of the phrase "Diana's legacy". I had also been asked to appear at Preston Primary School in Yeovil for their party to celebrate the wedding on the day before the big event. I turned up at this lovely school bright and early and was soon out in the playground greeting the children and parents alike as they arrived. About 99% of the children had come either as Princes or Princesses. Some of the really little ones in Reception year looked so cute. All the teachers and staff had gone for the Royal look, including the head who was in a pure white flowing medieval dress. I asked her if she was the sacrificial victim for later on! I did two groups in the morning. First off it was the little ones - Reception class through to year 3. They were very enthusiastic, but hard work, especially the little ones who mostly had the attention span of goldfish. But I persevered and got some good laughs out of them, and all the staff seemed to enjoy it. When that had finished I thought I would get a five or ten minute break, but I didn't as they immediately started bringing in the next group - years 4 to 6. This lot were much easier to talk to and I did my usual life and times of Henry talk for them, much to their amusement. And suddenly it was all over! The children were off for a picnic in the grounds of the school and I was on my way back to Crewkerne.

This morning I got up and turned on the radio by my bed. It immediately went completely haywire and broke. Hmmmm. Perhaps my radio is a republican and knew about the Royal Wedding. Whatever, I went into my front room and switched on the TV and even at this early hour the BBC AND ITV were showing endless footage of the already crowded streets of London whilst commentators told us that "this is where the Royal Coach will come past" and "this is where Prince Harry will crash his car" etc etc. And another thing, doesn't Prince Harry look like his Dad? Shame he wasn't invited... (Ooh! Saucer of cream for the King). I was due over at Barrington Court for a walk about and then for a small tea party for visitors involving free cups of tea and slices of cake to celebrate the Royal Wedding.

To be honest I thought it was going to be a disaster as the early part of my walkabout showed so few people in the grounds of Barrington Court that I thought I had arrived at a hermit's convention. However as the afternoon progressed a few more people arrived, but it still wasn't looking very hopeful. Then smack on 3pm, when we were to serve the tea and cake, the sun came out spectacularly and people appeared from all over the place! It was packed out! Great fun was had by all and it was nice to have visitors from abroad including France, Germany, Australia and New Zealand.

Next Henry appearances are on BBC Somerset again with Emma Britton on Tuesday morning and then up at Falcon Junior in Norwich on Wednesday.

Birchfield Junior, Yeovil

A huge ancient monument. And behind him, a big old wall.

Today was meant to be the first day of filming on the long anticipated TV documentary being made about me and my silly job as Henry VIII. I had enquired if Birchfield Junior in Yeovil had minded being filmed with me, and they were really up for it. I had chosen Birchfield as it is such a fabulous school, really friendly and welcoming and with great kids and teachers. Everything was ready to roll until I got an email late on Monday stating that the sound recordist due to visit with the crew was going to be stuck in Manchester and was unavailable. Therefore all was postponed which was disappointing for me, but the children at Birchfield were even more disappointed. Hopefully we have re-arranged the filming for the 10th March when I visit St Michael's School, Wimborne in Dorset - fingers crossed.

Today was a fun day anyway, film crew or not. What I love about Birchfield is the sheer enthusiasm the children have and also the fun friendly staff. I arrived and unpacked the gear and was soon being chatted to by Katie Angus the delightful lady who had booked me this year. She is expecting her first child in May so I wished her all the very best for that. A great morning seemed to just zip by and soon found myself in a very quiet staff room. They were interviewing new teachers at the school today and a lot of people who didn't know each other were all lumped together in the staff room, giving it the impression of a dentist's waiting room. My dinner was a bit bizarre as well - pizza, with mashed spuds and baked beans! Not something you find at the Savoy Grill every day - even if you were Giles London.

The afternoon was similarly hilarious and we finished with a rip roaring joust which a more than capable ladies team romped away with at the end. This now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 17 LADIES

Who knows what the rest of this week will have in store! Tonight I am off shortly to United FM again for some more voice over work and then tomorrow morning I am up at an unspeakably early hour to drive up to Coleford and Coalway Junior for my 6th visit to that lovely school. Then, my birthday on Friday!

The Park School, Yeovil

After last weeks snow and ice I was looking forward to a week of getting back to work. And then there was last night's TV weather forecast. I knew it was going to be bad as the girl put on a black cap first and had a vulture perched on her shoulder. It was a forecast of biblical proportions - snow, gales, thunder, lightning, flooding, luddites, witchcraft and the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse "getting medieval" in Taunton. A typical Monday evening really. Just before bed last night I had a look out of the window and saw snow fluttering down and settling on the cars parked outside. Here we go - I thought. And so to bed.

I had a restless night listening to the wind howling round the windows of my flat. In my mind's eye I could see huge snow drifts piling up by my front door and polar bears rampaging through Crewkerne shopping centre, mind you I had been eating cheese. I woke up at about 5.30am and, somewhat pensively I pulled open the windows to see..... a completely clear scene. No snow, some rain and a blowy wind. A huge sigh of relief!

I had last been at The Park School in Yeovil back in January 2006, but it was a wonderful welcome I got on my return. Great teachers, lovely kids and, cropping up again, my dear friend, the gorgeous Belinda Stephens, late of Charlton Horethorne and North Petherton! It was great to see her! We had a fun half day, with a mixture of years 2, 3, 4, 5 & 6. Loads of laughs, nice cups of tea, wild stocks session and a rip roaring joust which the ladies waltzed away with! After such a good time I just hope it isn't another three years before I am back there again.

Tomorrow, another half day, this time down at Totton near Southampton. So wish me another friendly weather forecast tonight!

Bedford School & Holy Trinity, Yeovil plus No Move...

OK, I'll admit it. I haven't moved. All that bravado in the previous Blog entry about going to Stoke-sub-Hamdon - forget it! Everything went a bit "Pete Tong" on the Friday night when the incredibly stupid woman I was trying to rent the flat through did her best to drive me to a screaming apoplectic rage. She got very close. However, the upshot was, because of her ham fisted incompetence I was left without a house to move into and the real threat of being homeless looming over me. To add to all this fun, I was now back working as Henry VIIIth again, my week off having run out and the moving house problems unresolved.

My first Henry day back was up at Bedford School in, yes you guessed it, Bedford. This day was a bit different as it had been booked for me by Portals to the Past rather than through my usual channels. So I had no clear contact details and not a clue on who I was supposed to meet there. Added to which the journey up was horrendous with a huge hold up on the M3 and terrible traffic on the M25 and the A421. Just as I was getting close to Bedford my mobile rang and I assumed it would be the school saying where the hell are you, as I was pretty late. It was in fact BBC Two Counties Radio wanting to do a live interview with me about being Henry VIIIth and the fact I was appearing at a school in Bedford. I got that out the way and FINALLY arrived at the school, approximately 45 minutes late. But the day went well, it was a fantastic school, brilliant facilities and very friendly teachers, even though they kept chopping and changing as the day went on so I was never quite sure who was with what group! As it was an all boy's school, the joust cannot be taken into consideration for the whole year score. I finished that and began the long slog home, which thankfully wasn't half as terrible as the journey up.

Today I have been at the Holy Trinity School in Yeovil, and a fabulous place it was too! Lovely modern building, very friendly teachers and some hilariously excitable children all up for a fine day's Tudor fun with Henry VIIIth. And we had a great day. For lunch I had to nip into Morrison's for a sandwich, and I discovered it was one heaving mass of humanity, Lord knows why. But I was soon back in the staff room being gawped at by children through the window into the play ground, none of them sure if I really was Henry VIIIth in civvies. The joust in the afternoon was of a particularly high standard, but the ladies came storming through to collect yet another win this season. So that now makes the score:

GENTLEMEN 7 - 9 LADIES

Wicked stuff! I am off for a World War II day at Ditcheat School near Taunton on Friday.

As for my new home? I am hopefully moving into 8 Dairy Court in Crewkerne on Saturday. I won't guarantee it as we know what happened last time! Thankfully a different and far more competent letting agency are involved this time.

Birchfield School & then a kick in the teeth!

And it all started so well... I set my alarm bright and early for the short drive over to Birchfield Primary School in Yeovil, but then promptly fell asleep. I was re-awoken by my cat patting my face and demanding breakfast. A morning that had promised to be a nice relaxed slow get ready and go turned into a panic fuelled stagger around amid much swearing and nearly falling downstairs. Somehow I managed to arrive at the school on time and was greeted by the same wonderful teacher as before - such a sweet lady! And all the other staff were wonderful. It was a good sized group of children, two classes, and they were very excitable and were challenging at times. But the day went really well and there were laughs aplenty. The jousting was of high quality and I really thought the ladies were going to walk away with it, but in the final the gents managed to get ahead and held on for a fine win, amid much screaming and cheering!

I had just loaded everything into the car for the journey home when I got a voicemail message on my mobile. It was from Emma Vulliamy from Channel 4 who I was due to be filming with tomorrow near Wellington. The owners of the Tudor stately pile where I was due to meet them and film, decided that my travel expenses were too much for them to afford and I was no longer needed for the show. A bit of a kick in the teeth to say the least as I was really looking forward to this opportunity. Emma was full of apologies and said unfortunately it was out of her hands, and that she was disappointed as she and the crew had been looking forward to working with me. An unfortunate end to a funny old day...

Next week I am at St Michael's School near Bath for the last Henry day in a school for the academic year. And what a year it's been.

The Fold School, Hove

My first visit to a school in East Sussex got off to a less than auspicious start. I had been hoping to stay in Sussex with my friends Viv and John, but had failed to get any response from them - until late on the Sunday night announcing they had just arrived back from a weekend in Suffolk. So it was me up at the crack of dawn to drive the 130+ miles to Hove and back in the day!

I was just getting over a strenuous weekend. My parents had been down to stay with us, plus on Friday I had been in hospital for an operation on my head (no, not searching for my brain) and I was still a little sore this Monday morning and with the stitches still in place!

My alarm went off at 4.30am and after a quick clean up I was on my way by 5.20am. It was plain sailing until I got as far as Portsmouth when I got stuck in traffic and crawled most of the rest of the way in horrific weather conditions. I arrived at the school at about 8.15am. I was met by Mr Bartram, fully dressed up in his Tudor finery! The Fold is a tiny school, but absolutely delightful. The children were brilliant and were dressed in some fantastic costumes. The morning seemed to shoot by and by now it was lunch time and the kitchen staff had come up trumps with a proper Tudor banquet! We ate, drank and made merry, well as merry as you can with apple juice!

The afternoon joust was another classic with the ladies strolling to a fairly comfortable win. After dishing out the winners documents and packing my car I was on my way. Luckily the journey home was OK. Fairly heavy traffic but moving most of the time. I got home just after 6pm.

I have tomorrow off, thankfully, however any ideas of a rest have been quashed by my wife announcing that we are going Christmas shopping in Yeovil. Hey ho. My next show is on Thursday in Milverton.