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.

Walking With MP's...

Lovingly, the King blew an enormous raspberry on the back of Anne Boleyn's hand.  How the long winter evening's at Hever must have just flown by.

Summer has taken a long time to come along.  As I might have mentioned once or twice in this blog before, the winter just gone seemed almost limitless, but I am really enjoying the springtime we are now enjoying.  And with springtime comes more walkabouts for the King.  Last Sunday I was back at Barrington Court near Ilminster for a few hours of strolling the grounds and leaping out of hedges startling old ladies.  The weather started off alright, but unfortunately eventually closed in, and visitor numbers dwindled.  Towards the end of the day I was sitting in the large Kitchen of the court house, where I normally do my one man shows, and I was playing my recorder.  I love playing music in the kitchen at Barrington as the acoustics are so wonderful.  Sounds like you are hooked up to an enormous reverb unit with the settings going all the way up to 11.  Well I was happily tootling away to a couple of tourists, when I saw a woman walk past the doorway in the corridor.  She suddenly reappeared in the door and stalked towards me.  I wondered what she was going to say, it could have been anything, but when she did open her mouth I was dumbstruck.

"What are you going to do about the next Queen?" She shrieked, almost shaking with anger.  I stopped playing and looked at her with some puzzlement.

"Next Queen?"  I wasn't really sure what she was on about.  "Which next Queen?"  I imagined she was mucking about and was going to say how angry she was about Katherine Howard, or Anne Boleyn or any one of Henry's Queens. I was way wide of the mark.

"Yes!  The next Queen!"  She bellowed.  "Camilla!"  Now I really was struggling.

"What about her?" I eventually managed.

"WHAT ABOUT HER!?" She was doing a very good impression of the Alien Queen that Sigourney Weaver beat the crap out of in the movie "Aliens", and was scaring me.  "If Camilla becomes Queen there will be REVOLUTION in this country.... REVOLUTION! The people just won't accept her!"  I really had no idea some people's lives were so empty that they'd waste that much time getting this angry about something as pointless as this.  "Diana's blood is on their hands!  Charles and Camilla MUST make way for William..."  I made the fatal mistake of mentioning something about William being more approved than Charles simply because he was prettier, and that Diana was no angel when it came to manipulating the press, but that was it, she was off again.  More frothing at the mouth, shaking with anger, a final finger wagging at me and then she stomped off.  I sat in stunned silence before glancing at the other tourists in the room.

"How do you follow that?" I asked them.  One silently shook his head, so I picked up the recorder and began playing again.  Wonderful.

My next Henry appearance of the week wasn't until the Friday evening when I was to give a talk in Crewkerne at St Bartholomew's Hall for the local Liberal Democrat group, with local MP and Cabinet Minister David Laws in attendance.  Well they all seemed to enjoy my silly jokes, particularly one about David Cameron and George Osborne going off on a tour together.  I'll explain it all to you next time I see you.  Please remind me.  After my "turn" I was invited to stay for the supper afterwards and ended up sitting next to Mr Laws.  I had met David at various previous events I had visited and he is a nice affable chap and easy to talk to.  As he works in education now I did make a couple of requests - (a) could he ensure that Henry VIII and the Tudors stay on the national curriculum for as long as possible, and (b) next time he was alone with Michael Gove could he kick him in the bollocks as hard as he could.  He said he would look into a feasibility study in both my requests.  You heard it here first folks.

Sunday (today) saw me up and about bright and early for a drive up to Sudeley Castle in Winchcombe near Cheltenham in the Cotswolds for a walk about with Tudor Gowns and the Tudor Roses.  With the remnants of my cold hanging about, particularly my awful chesty cough, I had a dreadful night's sleep on Saturday and had coughed so much I had very sore stomach muscles.  Luckily the weather was bright and warm for the drive up the M5 towards Sudeley.  We had a good day wandering round the grounds meeting and greeting  the tourists, but by the afternoon numbers had slowed down and my cough addled sore muscles were really giving me merry hell.  So just before 4pm I surrendered and wandered off to get changed.  I said goodbye to Emma and Rachel of the Tudor Roses, and then also to Zarrina and Diane of Tudor Gowns before trundling off home.  I am quite sure I will sleep well tonight, my ribs still hurt, but perhaps my cough feels a bit better.  Or is that just wishful thinking?  I'll let you know tomorrow after I have tried to sleep tonight.

Sent to Coventry and then a quick Bath...

Good King Hal and Natalie Dormer.  Good King Hal is the one on the right, just in case you were having problems telling them apart...

Ah, the jet set lifestyle of the rich and famous mock Tudor monarch.  One minute you're at a book launch, rubbing shoulders (and sadly no other anatomical parts) with Natalie Dormer, then you're prancing around at Blenheim Palace with a fine jousting team, next thing you know you're in Coventry.  Huh?  Coventry?  Yes, Coventry, that jewel of the West Midlands.  While the rest of the Knights of Royal England were going off to silly boring old Sweden, here I was in the ex-industrial heart land of Britain.  I drove up on the Tuesday, and it was horrendous.  There was something of a bank holiday weekend hangover, with lots of ****ing caravans plodding along in various lanes they shouldn't be in on the M5, then just north of Bristol, towards Cribbs Causeway, there had been a God-awful smash up and the traffic decelerated down to walking pace and then non-movement.

When finally through this impasse the rest of the journey passed without much incident.  It was still blisteringly hot as the weekend had been.  I was looking forward to getting to my hotel and unwinding.  I was actually at a Travelodge (yeah, I know, I know) in Nuneaton (yeah, I know, I know) and soon my sat nav was telling me I was nearly there.  I followed it's instructions and soon found myself driving into a very deserted looking industrial estate.  Could this be right?  I turned from bigger roads onto smaller roads and smaller roads, then my sat nav bonged happily and announced I had arrived at my destination.  I was in a dusty side road by a deserted former tyre fitting unit.  I got out of the car for a nose round, and sure enough, behind the deserted former tyre fitting unit and, more importantly, behind an impassable solid looking brick wall, was my Travelodge.  So I drove back to the main roads, which with it now being 5pm were absolutely chocka block and attempted to get to my hotel.  I eventually found it, more by luck than design.  It was just off the A444, hiding behind a grotty looking petrol station.  I shouldn't complain really as the petrol station was going to be my version of Claridge's restaurant for the evening.  So I bought some grub from the petrol station,  went back to my stiflingly hot room and tried to pretend that I had actually enjoyed freezing my b******s off back at Knebworth House.

The next morning dawned cooler, and a lot damper.  Rain had fallen heavily in the night and was continuing to do that for an encore in the morning.  I soon found the school - Whitmore Junior, and as I was there ahead of the teacher who had booked me, I brought all my stuff in and set it up in the main hall.  Anita, the lovely lady who booked me then arrived and told me I was in the wrong hall, as they had two halls for this school.  But with some help from two other teachers and use of a big trolley we moved all my props down to the correct hall.  The teachers at this school were really lovely all day and could not do enough for me.  It was very kind of them.  We had a fantastic day with a group of children just setting out on the subject of the Tudors, but they already had some pretty good knowledge.  We had a fantastic morning and an even more fun and silly afternoon.  The afternoon joust was a really good one and ended with that rarest of things - a win for the gents!  So thanks to Whitmore Junior our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 16 - 23 LADIES

The journey home was back through some horrendous weather - driving rain and increasingly strong winds.  And there was me complaining about the heat less than two paragraphs ago.  I got home, had a Chinese takeaway and contemplated an early night, but this plan was scuppered by me, as I managed to fall asleep on the sofa and wake up at just after midnight.  And then when I got into bed properly, I couldn't get off to sleep.  Typical.

Thursday found me back at Bathampton School in the delightful canal-side village of Bathampton, near Bath, naturally enough.  It was a morning only with a combined year 2 & 3 group.  It was lovely to be back.  Last time I had visited was in 2011 and I had helped open a new set of classrooms for them, by cutting the ribbon in front of the assembled press.  It is a lovely school, and I am particularly fond of it as they have one of the most stunningly attractive finance officers I have ever seen.  He's called Bernard... No, he isn't.  He is a she and I shall keep it to that to spare her blushes, but she is just "goyjus".  (GKH blushes enormously).  Anyway, the morning was fun.  I did my opening Henry talk for the kiddywinkies, then they did a Tudor dance for me.  We then did my Tudor quiz, then they sang me a song or two, and finally after I had played my instruments back to them, we had a jousting tournament, just before lunch.  It was loud and fun, and once again, much to everyone's complete amazement, we had another win for the gents.  This must be the first back to back win for a long time.  Anyway, our score goes on to:

GENTLEMEN 17 - 23 LADIES

This could get very interesting.  I loaded all the stuff back into my car, then stopped briefly for petrol on the way home.  As I was driving out of the forecourt of the petrol station I happened to glance up and noticed the most revolting huge hairy moth parked not two inches from my eyes, just looking at me.  I leaped on the brakes and screeched to a halt.  Now some people have phobias about spiders - for me, nothing. Some people have phobias about snakes - ha!  I laugh in the face of a King Cobra!  But show me a big hairy arsed moth, with those horrible grippy clawed feet they have and I tend to turn into a loose bowelled screaming shivering wuss.  As I did here.  I clambered out of the car, trying desperately to look more like Chuck Connors than Charles Hawtrey, and on leaving the door open shoo-ed at the moth with a large piece of paper.  It dutifully flew off with wings making a similar sound to a Chinook helicopter power lifting a tank across Salisbury Plain and I managed to stifle an further girly screams.

And when I got home my voice started giving out, so at this moment I can confirm my manly testosterone fuelled roughtie-tuffty-ness as I currently sound like Barry White when I speak.  However show me a moth and Charles Hawtrey will come leaping back onto centre stage.  Good King Hal is back on parade at Barrington Court this weekend for another summer wander round the gardens.  I hope to see you all there.

From Basildon to Blenheim.

A big fat ugly single ginger bloke, in a dress.  Try and spot the enamoured lady, hugely attracted to the man in this picture...*

Hello sensation seekers.  Last time you read this pulse stopping blog (pulse stopping, in much the same way a massive dose of beater blocker drugs would be pulse stopping) I had just finished a desperately exciting trip to Radlett in Hertfordshire for an appearance at Newberries School.  Now, contain your excitement folks - weak bladders should be emptied before reading further.  Such extracts of this Earth moving and heart warming blog might be enough to cause some ructions in certain places.

Being Henry in a school is what I do most often, and my second port of call this week was to Lee Chapel Primary School in Basildon in sunny downtown Essex.  This was a return visit to this lovely school after my visit the previous year - I remember it being a very friendly open and fun school with some great children, and this year was frankly no different.  My arrival was not my finest moment - the car park at the rear is tiny and space is at a premium.  As I parked a lady in a large silver car which had just parked in a space behind me should out that I couldn't park where I was.  When I exasperatedly gestured round the full tiny space she yelled aggressively "well, we have to work here you know!"  At this point I was ready to chew the head off a recalcitrant Great White Shark, but I walked into the school to announce myself and let the office staff know I had double parked in the tiny car park and if anyone wanted me to move the car I would be happy to shift it.  Apparently the space left in the car park was for the accounts lady who bore a stunning resemblance to "Mad" Frankie Fraser if her parking space was in the slightest bit compromised. Not wishing to witness this for myself, I surrendered and just parked badly out of the way.  I was now warmly welcomed by Hayley McCechnie (I think you spell it something vaguely like that) and got ready for the Tudor Day ahead of us.  It was a superb day as ever at this brilliant school.  Piles of laughs and contributions from these smart sassy kids!  Everybody but everybody seemed to have a good time, which is fine by me, and after a lovely lunch we soon found ourselves in the midst of the jousting tournament.  It was loud, it was frenetic and it was good fun.  And of course the inevitable happened!  Yet another win for the ladies!  They simply annihilated the lads in the final.  Our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 15 - 23 LADIES

It was time to get back to Somerset, catch my breath for a couple of minutes before on the Saturday morning, heading up to Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire for three days of jousting on the Saturday, Sunday and Bank Holiday Monday.  As you may recall, on our previous jousting jaunt to Knebworth House in Hertfordshire over Easter weekend, we had all frozen half to death and some of us even vaguely beyond it, but thankfully this weekend the weather was gorgeous.  I even got a sunburned nose on the Saturday.  It was so nice to be back with the Knights of Royal England team again, and all the usual fun and larks ensued.  The first night with them was too much for a tired and shagged out me - we finished the shows and I made my pathetic excuses and made my way to my luxury Travelodge near Bicester.  I went to bed and slept soundly for nearly 10 hours, which was exactly what I needed, and I found myself the following morning up, bright, rested, alert and ready for action.  Which I am sure was a ghastly site for most sane normal people. Well all three days were fun, packed and very warm, particularly the Monday where the staff of Blenheim assured us this was their biggest ever turn out for a jousting event at the Palace. I do wish some of the punters who come and see these shows could think of some more original questions to ask you as you pose for photos after the show.  Virtually every other question was "are you hot?"  Hot?  Me?  This towering lump of lard, in three layers of heavy satin with about 2 cwt of fur draped round my shoulders on what is the hottest day of the year so far, with my bright red face with several gallons of sweat pouring down it?  Hot?  Whatever gives you that idea?  Tish, it's nothing!
During the weekend it was the birthday of Lucy (Jeremy and Kim, who run the Knights of Royal England - well, their daughter) aka "Bob" and on the Sunday evening we all went out for a meal at the White House Pub at Bladon near Woodstock.  It was so nice to be amongst close friends and have such a laugh.  It was also nice to meet Frank, an old friend of Jeremy's who looks like being one of our regular riders this summer.  He is a tall striking looking Frenchman.  I asked him where he lived - and he is now in Birmingham, having surrendered to the brummie charm enough to re-locate from the Burgundy region.  He wants locking up.  But a very nice chap indeed and fun to work with.  And so we finished and headed off our different ways.  The jousters off to Sweden to do some shows, and me to head today off to Coventry for a visit to a new school tomorrow.  After that I am back at Bathampton on Thursday and then leaning against a sideboard and gasping for breath on Friday.

* There isn't one.

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.

I'm Too Sexey (and Warwickshire)

The Hinge and Brackett reunion tour looked like being a big success all round.  Book early folks to avoid disappointment.

After a very pleasant St George's Day doing just short of bu99er all, it was back to work with avengence on Wednesday.  I was up at just before 5am to get ready and then drive up to Warwickshire for a first visit to a new school for me - Ilmington Junior.  I had no idea what to expect - Warwickshire is one of those counties in the country that I know very little of, and I tend to just mentally sort of lump it all in with the West Midlands.  So at the start of my journey up the M5 I was picturing dark satanic mills, whining Brummie accents and more Staffordshire Bull Terriers on leads than you could shake a stick at.  How wrong I was!  My sat nav brought me off the M5 as the same exit that I usually use when driving to Sudeley Castle.  I then had a pleasant dawdle through some very picturesque Cotswold-like villages and found myself boundary hopping between Gloucestershire, Worcestershire, back to Gloucestershire and then suddenly in Warwickshire.  Finally I turned off on some very pretty little b-roads and was then in the village of Ilmington.  It is absolutely delightful!  A church spire dominates in the middle, but all around is rolling hills, chocolate box cute cottages and all seems like a very rustic idyll.  I had to park outside the school as any car parking has gone as there are builders in extending the school out the back.  I had only been sat there for about two minutes when a car pulled up in front of me, a very lovely lady jumped out and immediately beamed a dazzling smile at me and shouted "You must be Mike!" through the windscreen.  Indeed I was.  This was Claire, the lady who had booked me for the day.  She warmly welcomed me, showed me some of the Tudor work the children had already done, and even made me a nice cup of tea. What a nice lady.

Well this was a fantastic school.  It was only about 30 children, but they were so full of fun, enthusiasm, laughter and a desire to get involved, that it just made my life so much easier.  Great fun was had during the whole of the morning with lots of very silly laughs and the children joining in the banter to a great effect.  Lunch was basically a sort of healthy version of sausage and chips, but it was very warming and filling.  Back in the hall we ripped through the afternoon and ended with another great jousting tournament.  This one was incredibly close and the gents really should have won, but their final rider on the last leg got his lance caught on the quintaine and quoit (always an eye waterer that one, folks) and the ladies nicked in for an improbable victory.  Another win!  My goodness.  The score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 22 LADIES

There is surely no way back for them now.  I packed my items back in the car in bright spring sunshine and 18 degrees of warmth, lovely.  The journey home was luckily free of any hold ups and I got back to Crewkerne at just before 6pm.  There was no sitting on my laurels that evening.  Good heavens no!  Now my social life these days is usually about as exciting as Morrissey's stag night, but I was out for a drink with the very wonderful Matthew Applegate, and we went to the Rose and Crown at East Lambrook, now with it's new owners and full of welcoming charm again.  The Palmers 200 beer was like nectar and we had a lovely relaxed laughter filled evening.  Wonderful, just what I needed.  Thank you, Matthew!

I was back on more familiar ground on Thursday with my eighth annual visit to the deliciously named Hugh Sexey Middle School at Blackford near Wedmore.  What a brilliant name.  Can you imagine being called that?  The amount of times you would have to bite your lip when a lady would come up to you and say "Are Hugh Sexey?"  Well, it has been mentioned a few times...  I love this school.  It is always a massive great group of children, all in brilliant Tudor costumes and to add to my delight I am surrounded by gorgeous looking female teachers.  What is not to like?  It was about 170 children today and all bar roughly four of them had put in an effort with their costumes.  One little girl had a very big phobia about people dressing up in costumes, so before my visit I'd had to send in photos of me in my Henry gear and me in my civvies, just to put her at ease.  I then met her before the show just to show her I was a normal person... (normal???  HA!), but she was really good, and was fine throughout the day and even took part in the jousting tournament in the afternoon.  Well all I can say is it was a blinding day - fun all the way through, some brilliant costumes from the kids and a lovely visit back to one of my favourite schools.  And then, just when you thought you were getting into a rut - the gents only go and storm to a brilliant victory in the jousting.  Well done lads.  Our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 14 - 22 LADIES

And with two more shows to come next  week let's see what happens.  I drove into Glastonbury after the show to try and pay some money into my business account.  It was horrific in town.  Glastonbury always seemed to attract a varied group of eccentrics down the years, but now they are bloody everywhere!  Everyone has brightly coloured trousers on, or mad hats, or dreadlocks, or lumps of metal hammered through their noses.  I even saw one bloke who looked like a middle aged company director, with his face painted to make him look like a frog, happily walking down the High Street hand in hand with his equally straight looking wife with what appeared to be an Earthing rod nailed through her nostrils. It reminded me very much of Tony Hancock's disgracefully underrated movie "The Rebel" where he meets all the Jean-Paul Sartre fans in Paris who are appalled at his tales of conformity in commuter London (everyone in suits with bowler hats and umbrellas), and when you see them, every single one is dressed the same.  It was the sort of street scene that if you did see a bloke in a bowler hat, suit and carrying an umbrella you'd scream "look at that freak!"  Anyway, it was packed with the added fun of an enormous either funeral or memorial service for someone very popular taking place in the central church.  Parking was at a premium, but I managed to find a space right opposite my bank.  Hoorah!  I fought my way through the loonies in grass skirts being "alternative" (yeah, right) and got to the bank to discover it had closed ten minutes earlier.  Now THAT was alternative.  So I drove home, stopping only at Long Sutton and the wonderful little shop there to buy some scrumpy cider - I think I had earned it.

In the next week I am off to Newberries School in Hertfordshire for a return visit, then to Lee Chapel in Basildon for a similar repeat, and then the following weekend I am hooking up again with the Knights of Royal England for three days jousting at Blenheim Palace in Oxfordshire.  I can't wait.  It can't be any more miserable and cold than last time.

Walking and Talking

Good King Hal, wondering who the hell has photo-shopped Barrington Court out of existence.

Here is a look at the first photo from last week's photo shoot at Barrington Court with the supremely talented Simon Plant.  I think this picture looks stunning and would like to take this opportunity to thank Simon for his talent and skill.  What a guy!

I was back at Barrington Court on the Sunday for the first of my summer afternoon walkabouts at this lovely NT property near Ilminster.  I was delighted to be joined by Emma from the Tudor Roses, dressed as a lovely Katherine Parr, her son's Jonny and Matty as two young princes and the wonderful Darren Wilkins, armed to the teeth as ever with his trusty camera, who followed us around snapping away.  It was a quiet afternoon at the Court but it was nice to meet a greet people from all over the country.  I was so moved that Darren and Emma had chosen to drive all the way from Kent to spend the afternoon with us over at Barrington.  We weren't the only "attractions" there for the day, there was also a choir who were stationed in the main ball room in the house and warbled their way through various numbers including "Pass Time With Good Company" (another PRS cheque in the post for Henry!) and "Swing Low Sweet Chariot".  Their singing was very good and sounded lovely in the court house surroundings.  The sainted Mattew Applegate, long suffering Visitor Services Manager at Barrington Court looked after us superbly and organised some tea and biscuits for everyone in the afternoon.  Well we went down to join the choir for the drinks and were welcomed by them very much the way a North Atlantic Convoy during the second world war would have greeted the sight of a U-Boat.  Noses were looked down, we were at first ignored and then, comments were made about us.  While I was fixing some tea for Emma, Darren and myself, the main conductor was standing behind me with two of her warblers and I quite clearly heard her comment "His costume, do you think he made it out of a sofa?" and they guffawed happily together.  I can honestly say they were one of the unfriendliest coldest bunch of fish seen outside of a north sea trawlers net.  Obviously for reasons of me being a polite and lovely bloke, I would never name which choir this group were.  However they are a choir, they often perform in chambers and they come from a town in south Somerset.  That begins with Y.  And ends in L.  Anyway, after a few turns around the gardens and buildings, we changed back into our civvies and treated ourselves to a drink and some cakes in the fine cafe at the reception area of Barrington.  And then I was on my way back home to Crewkerne while Emma, Darren and the boys faced up to the much longer trek back to Kent.

I was up early this morning for a drive back to Downend just to the north east of Bristol for a return visit to Christ Church Junior School.  I had last appeared here back in 2011, and this time I was booked by a new teacher called Marie Harrison.  It was to be a big group for the day - approximately 150 children from years three and four combined.  Marie was lovely and made me very welcome, but then so did the whole staff and children.  They were a big group, but just a delight to work with!  The morning got off to a slightly delayed start, but it was worth the wait.  The whole morning was great fun and some of the children's costumes were just magnificent.  After a nice lunch break it was back to the hall for a fun session with the stocks before finishing with a deafening joust.  This was finally won by several lengths by a very entertaining and confident Gents team - and about time too!  They romped to a worthy victory.  Finally they can peg the ladies back slightly.  Our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 13 - 21 LADIES

I had a little fun on the drive back when my sat nav decided to go a bit wibble on me, and I ended up driving up and down the Keynsham by-pass a couple of times for no adequately explained reason.  Still I am sure it gave the locals something to talk about.

Back home I said "HELLO" to a bottle of Merlot and some dinner and then settled down to watch the final episode of Broadchurch.  Not the best of the series by a long way, but it did at least manage to tie up the loose ends of the story in a fairly agreeable way.  Oh and Man Ure won the Premiership.  Now that IS depressing.  A day off tomorrow and then I am off up to Ilmington in Warwickshire for a Henry day at their local school.  So another early start.

Model Citizen

Insert your own hilarious bonne motte here. I simply can't be arsed.

People find it hard to believe I am a model.  I find it hard to believe as well, especially when I look in the mirror and see the R101 with a beard staring back at me.  But I have done a few modelling photo shoots over the years as Henry.  And today I had another assignation.  And where would this photo shoot be taking place?  Which exotic distant sun kissed shore would my delicate little size 12's be plodding around on?  San Tropez, perchance?  Rio de Janeiro, maybe?  Close, but no cigar folks.  I had to be at Barrington Court near Ilminster by 8am this morning.  Hey, who said showbiz wasn't glamorous?

I was to meet up with local professional photographer Simon Plant.   I arrived just after 8am, and then attempted to find somewhere to get changed.  Most of the Court House was still locked up and alarmed, so I headed for Strode House next door and eventually found myself in the big disabled loo, using that as my luxury dressing room.  Well it was lovely to be out in the sun for the photos.  The early morning sun across the sculpted manicured lawns at Barrington looked lovely, and Simon happily snapped away.  He mostly wanted me to look mean and slightly intimidating.  I've been very good at that lately it seems, and I carried on by scowling merrily at the camera whilst clutching a big stick.  We got a few puzzled looks by passing early morning gardeners, but after only half an hour we were done.  Simon was very pleased with the results and has promised to email me the final proofs when done.  I shall post a load on here when they are done and your comments would be most welcome folks.

I got changed and then bumped into the sainted Matthew Applegate, and then the equally sainted Rachel Brewer.  I hadn't seen Rachel since the Mistletoe Fayre last year, so it was great to catch up.  And still my meetings weren't over - just after this Rachel took me to see Sarah Kennedy, another NT lady, not some ex-BBC Radio 2 lush.  I hadn't seen Sarah for ages either so it was nice to see so many old friends.  I stopped off at Ilminster on the way home for a cup of tea at Bilby's and a natter with Tris Pinkney.  After all of this I got home and it was still only just 11am.  What a day!

The afternoon was bound to be a let down and was.  The highlight of the afternoon was a visit to my Doctor who took my blood pressure again, grunted at me and invited me back for more excitement in the same vein in 30 days time.  I can hardly wait.

I am back at Barrington Court on Sunday for a Henry walkabout, and will be accompanied by Emma and Darren from Tudor Roses for their debut at the Court house.  I hope the weather holds up for us.  And now back to sitting on the sofa by myself and sighing.  What a wild way to spend a Friday evening!

Song of a Baker

There was something large, ugly and unpleasant lurking in the gardens.  Good King Hal being devoured by a Triffid.

Croseo i Cymru!  Or something like that.  Your latest missive, hot off Caxton's press begins with your King in West Wales, trying to convert the natives unto the sheer delight of wearing tights.  The working part of my sanctuary at my parents involved me giving a talk to a Probus Group at the Cliff Top Hotel in Gwber (pronounced GOOBER - I love it!).  The only people who knew the King was going to appear, aside from my parents and my lovely Sister Sue who came along for moral support, were the President of the local Probus group and her treasurer.  Well not wishing to deafen you with self trumpet blasting, I went down a storm.  The lovely group seemed to really like me, which was fantastic and I even got some old boy in the front row, who bore a more than striking resemblance to former Polish President Lech Walesa, to laugh so much he had to take a break halfway through.  He was a God's gift to a comic as his laugh came out as a loud grunted snort, very much like someone doing a loud pig impression.  When he first did it I urged him to give it a bit more choke and it would have started.  And no, before any smart ass says it, he wasn't asleep and snoring.  I had a lovely lunch in the hotel with the group after the show and then went back to my folks for one more night.

The following day I was on my way back to Somerset, but the journey took a lot longer than expected as the east bound M4 was shut due to a big smash up and we were diverted off through various tiny villages, most of which seemed to be experiencing road works.  Well, I say works.  What you mostly saw was miles of traffic cones, an occasional parked up lorry with three navvies either asleep or reading The Sun in the cab, or if you were really lucky, one of them outside, listlessly swinging a pick at the tarmac before pausing to scratch his arse or light a cigarette.  It was a stirring sight.

Back home at Somerset I found myself on the Saturday listening to Danny Baker's Show on BBC Radio 5 Live. He has been doing an ongoing feature about people's experiences of lower league Scottish football.  This seemed too good an opportunity to recount him my journey to Stranraer with my father a couple of years back, and a shameless opportunity to plug Good King Hal on national radio.  Well, I got on air and had a chat with the sainted Mr Baker, and what a lovely chap he is.  He even laughed at some of my appalling old Henry VIII jokes.  What a gent.

My dear old friend Ali Bessell came over on Saturday night and we drank wine, put the world to rights and watched the old Tim Burton movie "Ed Wood" with Johnny Depp.  What the hell was Johnny Depp doing in my flat???  But it was lovely to see Ali again - why is it when you have such a dear friend you only get to see them once in a blue moon?  Life can be cruel like that.

On the Sunday I went over to Barrington Court to see Matthew Applegate and thrash out the final dates for my Henry appearances at the court house this summer.  My first walkabout is this weekend on the Sunday, so come and say hello if you're in the area.  I drove home and watched my beloved Manchester City thrash Chelsea 2-1 in the FA Cup Semi Final.  Knowing us we'll lose to Wigan in the final now...  Just my luck at the moment.

Back to being Henry on the Tuesday morning with a first visit to Walliscote Primary School in beautiful downtown Weston super Mare.  I had been booked by a lovely lady teacher who had originally seen me when she had brought her class from Ilton School to come and see my open day at Barrington Court with Shepton Beauchamp and Barrington School, all those years ago.  She had remembered me and recommended me to her new school.  It was only a morning, but a great one.  One of the friendliest nicest schools I have visited for a long time, charming lovely teachers and some great kids.  Really a wonderful, wonderful morning.  We finished just after midday with a ear bending jousting tournament that, surprise surprise, the ladies won - again!  Our score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 12 - 21 LADIES

This is now getting embarrassing.  The poor old gents just don't stand a chance these days.  The rest of the week is quite Barrington oriented.  I am possibly going over to the Court House on Friday for a photo shoot with a local photographer from Ilminster, and then as I mentioned earlier it is my first official Henry walkabout of the season at Barrington on Sunday.  Please come along anyone who reads this - the King would be delighted to see you.  And now a quick quiz for anyone who reads this blog this far - the blog title for this entry - which British rock group had a famous song of this title?  Song of a Baker?  Let me know if you know the answer.

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.

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.

Now Is the Winter of Our Discontent... and it shows no sign of stopping.

Good King Hal and his Mother, doing the hokey cokey in anticipation of the end of winter.  They were wrong.

Ice and snow?  More of it?  Oh come on!  It was nearly spring the other week.  I even went into Crewkerne in just t-shirt and jeans.  If I tried that today I'd be ripped to pieces by a pack of wolves as soon as I stepped out of my front door.  And then to add insult to injury, a UN Hercules transporter would probably drop a large wooden crate full of high energy biscuits on me as a "humanitarian gesture".  I dare suggest they might get something similar back from me.

So another week goes past and they STILL haven't formerly asked me to be the Pope, so I shall carry on being Henry VIII until they do.  My latest port of call was a return to Leeds Castle for an evening corporate do on Friday March 8th.  I drove up from Somerset on the morning of the 8th and spent some of the day with my lovely Shelley in Maidstone.  Then it was up to the Castle - and as usual with an evening "do" an air of mild confusion seemed to reign.  First they had no idea where they wanted me to get changed - I couldn't use my usual room as it was full of "shop stuff" apparently.  Finally they decided I should get changed in the Triangle Room.  The next problem was no one seemed to know where it was.  By now time was flying and my chance to be changed and ready for when the guests arrived was a rapidly diminishing prospect.  Finally, we found the room and I got changed.

By the time I came downstairs some of the guests were already in the Library for their welcoming drinks. Everyone from the company had come dressed in fancy dress - lots of the ladies as saucy wenches, which was fine with me, plus loads of Knights, elegant Royalty, one man dressed as a Castle (don't ask, but he was obviously very proud) and even two dragons, one of whom was the lady who had booked me.  I felt quite sorry for her as she looked longingly at all the other ladies in their elegant and sexy outfits, and there was her with a big green head and floppy paws.  Bless.  One lady in particular was very striking - about six feet tall, in stripey black and white basque, fishnets and stilettos.  Trust me, it would have been rude NOT to stare.  She was the perfect comic foil for me though - while I was halfway through my pre-dinner routine about the six wives, she suddenly walked in through the door behind me, then stopped, standing right next to me, frozen it seemed by the glare of the audience.  I looked her up and down and then said "I told you to wait in the car" which brought the house down.

After processing the group down to the main banqueting hall, that was me done for the evening.  So I went back to the Triangle Room, got changed and was on my way.  I had dinner with Shelley and then had an early night.  On the Saturday I met up with the lovely Annie Lucas, late of Rochester Cathedral, but now living in Cornwall and running her own bespoke wedding dress making business.  We met up at Tunbridge Wells railway station in a small cafe next to it and discussed possible future plans for world domination in the wedding market.  Some good plans were hatched, and it was lovely to see the wonderful Annie again!

I was due to stay with Shelley for a few days but the weather forecast for the Monday morning was bleak and biblical, with promises of very heavy falls of snow across Kent and Sussex - so being the wimp I was I decided to make a run for it on the Sunday.  And so I headed back to Somerset.

It is still ridiculously cold, and there seems little let up in the weather continuing in the same vein for a while, even according to Carole Kirkwood again this morning.  I'm starting to go off her, you know.  My next Henry engagement is this weekend when I am appearing on Emma Britton's Saturday Morning Show on BBC Somerset  from about 10am as one of her Somerset Lives interviews.  I am following in the footsteps of Michael Eavis and Tara Newley, so I reckon I should wear slingbacks so I get noticed.  Tune in if you can folks!  After that it is back to being a King at schools again with a visit too Woodham Ley School in Essex.

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.

So, Did I Miss Anything?

And then Kate Winslet turned into an anteater... as you do.

So where has naughty old Good King Hal been this last week or so?  No blog?  Surely not!  Well despite not much Henry-ing going on, I have been a busy boy.  My final Henry appearance before the week of half term was an evening appearance down at Saunton Golf Club near Braunton in Devon.  I had been booked to appear for a Rotary Club.  Now they were a very nice group, especially the chap who had booked me, however he dropped something of a bombshell the week before the show.  It was a black tie event and they expected me to turn up for the dinner in full DJ and bow tie.  Now I don't even own a normal tie, let alone and bow tie and DJ. When I explained this over the phone to the nice man he said "well don't worry, just wear a normal suit".  A suit?  Me?  I used to wear suits and ties when I was working down at Skandia in Southampton, but since I left the "ranks of shuffling graveyard people", to quote early Marillion, I needed a suit and tie about as much as a vegetarian needs a George Foreman Grill.  I considered looking at buying or renting a suit, but most circus tents were unavailable and to be honest there just wasn't enough material in the world to make one.  In the end it was decided (by me) that I would turn up in my usual Worzel Gummidge gear and then slip into my Henry costume for the meal, do my show, then get changed and clear off.  Which is what I did.

The drive down was much further than I expected, but was relatively easy.  I was warmly welcomed by all the Rotarians, got changed and then came out for the meal.  The food itself was lovely and then after several speeches it was me.  Not wishing to blow my own trumpet but I tore them up and went down a storm.  Loads of laughs and even a round of applause for one new gag I threw in about the recent discovery of Richard III's remains in a Leicester car park.  The gag was basically, if someone came into my office and said they'd found a Richard III in the car park I'd say, what do you expect, we are in Leicester after all.  Ba-doom-tish!  A big round of applause at the end and I was off, but with more than twice my agreed fee as they had enjoyed my show so much.  How very nice of them.

On the Saturday I drove to Tidworth in Wiltshire and the Royal Tank Regiment Family day.  I met up with my lovely Shelley, Sir Owen of Leeds Castle, Shelley's mum and my lovely son James who they'd picked up in Kent when Amanda brought him down.  Shelley's eldest son, Jamie is currently serving in the Royal Tank Regiment.  It was a fun day for all the family - tanks to clamber over, weapons to look at, soldiers to chat to and with the added fun for the kids of a roller coaster, dodgem cars, and various side stalls including shooting range and candy floss.  The food plus all this entertainment was completely free and James and Owen had a right old time of it, checking out the impressive vehicles and leaping all over them, then driving the dodgems until I imagine the national grid began to run out of electricity.  At the end of an exhausting day Shelley, Owen and Shelley's Mum headed back to Kent, while James and I struck out down to Somerset.

The following day James and I headed off to Newcastle Emlyn and a visit to my parents.  The weather was nice and my folks were pleased to see us, however for the first day James wasn't too well with a bad stomach, but he soon recovered.  We had some nice days out, including a visit to Aberaeron which is an absolutely delightful little seaside town.  Then on another day we went into Carmarthen and took James to see the movie "Wreck It Ralph" which he absolutely loved.  I then drove James back to Essex, then had a brief stop at Kent to see Shelley before shooting back to Somerset.

I was back on the 23rd for a visit to Bridport to see Justin Currie in concert at the Electric Palace Theatre.  I had bought two tickets in the hope of going along with Shelley, but she couldn't get a baby sitter for Sir Owen and sadly was stuck in Kent.  I had a spare ticket so I offered it to a few friends and ended up visiting the show with my friend Jill Beed who luckily lives about 20 yards from the front door of the Electric Palace. Her husband Mark cooked us a lovely meal before we went, so I was spoilt rotten.  As for the show?  Stunning.  If you ever get a chance to see Justin Currie live - go for it.  His song writing skills are such that he makes it look sickeningly easy and anyone who has ever had a bash at writing songs (myself included) will know just what a tortured experience it can be.  He kept the entire audience spell bound for nearly two hours, just himself and his guitar (and occasionally on piano) and I am already in the queue for the next tour.  Please check out this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuiy3_hjhkI for a clip from Saturday night of Justin performing "Always the Last to Know" which was brilliant and even brought a tear to the old King's eye.

Back to being Henry now that half term has gone.  Tuesday (my birthday) sees me back at St Mary's School at South Woodham Ferrers in Essex.  Watch this space for more.

OI! SNOW! NO!!

Captain Robert Falcon Scott (left) pondering on whether the antarctic frock he has chosen for "Birdy" Bowers (right) is up to the rigours of a south polar winter and a diet of pemmican...

My world record attempt to drive the furthest distance to as many shows as possible in the space of three weeks continued.  And to choose to do it during the depths of winter?  Surely I want locking up...  By the end of my first journey on Monday morning, I would whole heartedly have agreed.  Monday morning saw me getting up at 5am in Maidstone for a shortish drive to Dulwich College Junior School in South East London.  Now as you know, I hate driving in London and would much rather drive to a school there in the wee small hours, park outside the school and sleep in the car until the place opens, then go in and introduce myself.  That was the plan for Monday.  But the best laid plans of mice and Tudor despots can go a bit Pete Tong if the weather is against you, and this morning, it was.  It had snowed on the Sunday night, but hadn't settled too badly.  As I made my way up the M20 towards London I made very good progress, but then we got onto the South Circular and things began to slow down.  First of all, a heavily over ladened flat bed truck, piloted by some pikey looking types tried to squeeze through a too narrow space next to a Romanian lorry - the pikey promptly loses his side rear view mirror - and his temper.  He chases the Romanian lorry, then carves him up before slamming on his brakes in front of him forcing him to stop, before jumping out of the van to confront the driver.  I drove round them before any "unpleasantness" ensued.  The snowfall got heavier and the traffic got thicker and slower.  The final three miles of the journey took me about an hour.  However, I was warmly welcomed by Leiba Sabon the lady who had booked me, and the day began. 

It was great fun, an all boys private school and a group of about 45 pupils, nearly all of whom were ready to laugh and join in.  It was a delightful day all round and helped me forget about my appalling drive in.  The snow seemed to continue falling most of the day and I began worrying about my journey home, but come the time to leave I was delighted to find most of the snow had melted away.  It was a great day at the school, but I can't add the jousting result to our overall score as it is a single sex school - shame really as the boys need all the points they can get!  My drive home was much quicker and less painful than the drive up.

I had dinner with my lovely Shelley that evening, before hitting the road again and heading down to Southampton and a room I had booked at a Travelodge in the town.  I found the hotel quite easily, I had stayed there once before, many years ago when I worked for Skandia - it was the last time we had the fuel strikes when everyone ballistic because petrol went over £1 per litre - £1?  Ah, the good old days...  I couldn't get fuel to get to work at Skandia and so for two nights I booked into the Travelodge until it all blew over.  I went into reception dragging my very heavy suitcase with me (it's because I had two weeks worth of clothes with me - yes, I was still away in a trip that began in the last blog entry).  I booked in, was handed a key for a room on the 4th floor, and was then told the lift was out of service.  Out of service?  Why?  Apparently it had been trashed by disgruntled Manchester City fans the previous weekend after we got thrashed by Southampton.  I promptly decided not to mention that I was a City fan.  The trogs in Southampton seem a bit touchy about the whole "Man City are rich these days" thing, if most of the idiotic comments I regularly have to read on Facebook are anything to go by.

My drive to the school was only about two miles the following morning.  The school was called St Mary's and was right next door to the big gleaming brand spanking new stadium of the same name that Southampton play in.  For such a big school it was a small group - just 20 children, something which usually makes the day quite difficult with a lack of atmosphere.  But this was a lively small group and they all seemed to enjoy themselves.  The whole day went swimmingly and culminated in a very enthusiastic joust, but unfortunately, although a Gents team won, they cheated so horrendously on the final leg that I had no option other than to disqualify them - so that leads to yet another win for the Ladies.  Our score inevitably goes on to:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 18 LADIES

Some very kind lads helped me load my stuff back into the car at the end of the day, and then I was on my way - but not before I almost drove off without packing my big case of props in the boot first - oops.  It was also nice to see Jen Frost, formerly of Skandia Life, now working at the school as the main receptionist.  I chatted with her about my recent visits to Skandia to see old friends.  I mentioned how on my last visit it was the middle of "Mo-Vember" and I was horrified to see NAME REMOVED ON LEGAL ADVICE with a big droopy moustache.  Jen said seeing NAME REMOVED ON LEGAL ADVICE at any time was bad enough.  I said NAME REMOVED ON LEGAL ADVICE with a moustache gave an even bigger impression of being like Blakey from "On the Buses".  "I hate you, Butler/Charlie!"  Make your own mind up former Skandia colleagues.

I drove back to Somerset and finally got home after 10 days away.  My throat was hurting, my head was pounding and I couldn't stop coughing.  I was coming down with a stinking cold.  What I needed was a long day in bed taking it easy.  Was I going to get it?  No.  I was back up at the crack of dawn for a long drive up to Hereford and a return visit to the lovely Riverside School there.  Now from Crewkerne to Hereford is normally about 2 hours at most by road, but being a tight fisted penny pinching type I decided not to follow the sat navs directions over the ludicrously expensive Severn Bridge toll and press on up to the M50 and cut across country.  OK, it put about 20 minutes on my journey, but it would be worth it, wouldn't it?  WRONG!  The M50 was virtually one solid set of roadworks from start to finish and I got stuck behind a doddery old fart in an elderly Honda Civic who obviously regarded driving faster than 40MPH anywhere was likely to lead to a complete breakdown of the human nervous system.  By the time I reached the A49 up into Hereford itself the morning rush hour was in full flow and I was going to be late.  I finally arrived at the school just before 9am.  But it was worth it, we had a fantastic day.  I suffered a lot with my coughing and dry throat, but we got through it and everyone seemed to have a really good time.  And guess what?  The ladies won the jousting AGAIN.  Can you believe this?  The score goes to:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 19 LADIES

Amazing stuff.  I followed the instructions of the sat nav to the letter on the way home and was back in my flat in about 2 hours as expected.  I will never argue with it again.  I have now had a lovely day off, a lay in this morning and then a short trip into town, where it was lovely to feel sunshine on my face - and, most amazing of all, warmth.  Could this herald the start of spring?  God I hope so.  I am so sick and fed up with snow.  In the words of Harry Enfield, "OI! SNOW!  NO!!!!"  Friday night I am off down to deepest darkest Devon for an appearance at Saunton Golf Club for a Rotary Club Dinner.  Then it is half term - time for some real quality time with my lovely son, James.  I can't wait!

A Tudor King Doing a Very Passable Impression of a Yo-Yo

And to be honest, this was a major sticking point.  Geddit?

Another week, and another seven days of travel, travails, excitement, ups, downs and lots of miming to appalling records.  But enough about that for now. More later!  We spin the clock back a full week though, to the previous Friday when I was due to make an appearance at a brand new school for me - St Mark's Junior School in Salisbury in Wiltshire.  The weather was a bit rough on the journey down, but the arrival and welcome was warm and genuine.  The motif for St Mark's School is the Venetian lion, hence the name St Mark's I guess, but it gives the whole place a slightly cosmopolitan air.  Well it was a great day with the kids in a lovely school, with much fun had by all.  The day finished with the inevitable joust and the inevitable win for the ladies.  Our score slowly clicks over to:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 14 LADIES

The drive back was OK but unmemorable.

Saturday morning had me up bright and relatively early and heading up to Kent to see my lovely Shelley.  I spent a lovely day with her and Sir Owen of Leeds Castle before I headed over to my sister's place at Stockbury near Sittingbourne for my brother-in-law Julian's birthday party.  Shelley sadly couldn't attend as she couldn't get a baby sitter for Owen, however she did insist that I went anyway.  Well, who was I to argue?  The evening was great fun with lots of laughs with Dave and Anne Turner-Maynard, John and Viv Rich, Cath and Julian (of course) and Michelle Coda.  I drank too much and stayed up too late, but by God it was worth it, even the hangover in the morning.

I spent Sunday with Shelley and Owen, and we ended the day by re-visiting the new restaurant in Maidstone: Buddha-Belly.  Sadly, it was a little bit of a disappointment this time around, but Owen got very excited by being able to actually see the chefs hard at work cooking your food on the big flaming stoves.  We wandered back to the car each of us with our own Buddha Belly by this time, but for me there was only a little bit of sitting around, before climbing into the car and driving to Essex.  I spent the evening with my lovely son James, before heading for an early night.

Up at an ungodly hour on the Monday and on the road north up towards East Anglia.  I was heading back to Gorleton near Great Yarmouth and a once in every three years visit to Herman Junior.  I just love the name of this school - Herman Junior.  As I said in my previous blog entry about this place, it sounds like a character from The Munsters.  Again it was a fun day with everyone being welcoming and friendly, and wouldn't you just know it, the Ladies strolled to another easy victory in the Jousting.  So while I was trundling back down the A12 towards Essex, our score slowly changes to:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 15 LADIES

On the Tuesday I was down to Leeds Castle where I had to video a clip of me addressing the camera to advertise the forthcoming Jester Factor - a search for a new jester for Leeds Castle.  So I was all dolled up in my finest Henry gear, lurking in the King's bedchamber in the castle, when in walked a Japanese tourist, he had his back to me.  He slowly turned round and promptly nearly lost his sushi in his pants - so surprised was he to see the King standing in front of him.  Well if you wish to see the results of my video work then please go to You Tube and look at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4oGBwLJyaT8 and you might be pleasantly surprised. Or not of course.  That evening it was back up to Essex as yet again the following morning I was up at the crack of you know what for a return drive to Norfolk.

It it's Wednesday it must be Norfolk?  True, here I was up the A14 and A147 heading back to Norwich and this time an eighth annual visit to White Woman Lane School in that lovely city.  This is a cracking school and always a delight to visit, and this year was no different.  Warm welcomes, much laughter about Mr Richmond the teacher wearing a Tudor pantaloons outfit in the same colours that Norwich City wear, so he did have a passing resemblance to a post medieval canary.  And apart from nearly falling asleep during the "Grand Tudor Quiz" everything went swimmingly and by the numbers.  And wouldn't you just know it, the ladies only went and triumphed again in the jousting.  The gents don't stand a chance at the moment and they now fall even further behind with a score of:

GENTLEMEN 11 - 16 LADIES

Sometimes it seems like there is absolutely no stopping them.  The drive back to Essex was fairly awful with sudden unexpected snow falling on the A147 in Norfolk and then a big smash on the A12 south which managed to close the road for a while, which was a bit of a pain.  But I managed to get past it.

Thursday was a day of relative relaxation.  I met up with an old friend of mine and had lunch, and picked up a big load of old cricket books, which pleased me!  All that and the weather was nice, which was splendid.  After another evening with dear James, Friday was due to be something a bit special, and it was.

I was due on this Friday to appear at James' school for a special appearance to kick off their History Week. James and I drove to the school through sunny but very icy lanes and arrived to a warm welcome from all of his teacher's and staff at St Anne Line School.  I was quite nervous about doing this show for James and his mates - it's OK to do shows time after time to anonymous children that you don't know, but suddenly to appear in front of a group of children you know, especially when one of them is your own flesh and blood.  That was a bit different, slightly scary and all the more rewarding when it went well - and it did.  It was a great day with very friendly help from Mrs Slee and Mrs Mulreaney, James' class teacher and his one to one worker, in that order.  Well James thoroughly enjoyed the day, even after I put him in the stocks during the afternoon session.  The only bit he couldn't stand was the noise in the hall during the joust and therefore sat quietly in the office when that was on.  As for the joust it was won - AGAIN, by the ladies.  How are they doing it?

GENTLEMEN 11 - 17 LADIES

What a lead!  Can they possibly be caught?  Keep watching.  The King is delighted to announce that he now has a couple of days off before Monday will involve him getting up very early for a first visit to Dulwich College Junior School in South East London.  Should be fun, then it is on to Southampton, then Hereford, the Devon and then.... Oh God.  It is back to being a yo-yo again, isn't it?