Henry's Column

10th January 2012.
I went to a fantastic school yesterday in County Durham, the group was large at 100 and I expected a rushed, hard day but because these pupils were full of the work ethic and keen as mustard, the day flew by and was wonderful. Many thanks to the staff for such a warm reception and a lot of fun.

Sat there in a blackened field on my own, the RV seems such a safe haven and a great time to create the kind of epictures requiring long stretches of noninterrupted time.What picture could depict my growing dislike of the iPod world? Sarcasm of course.
Hey iPlodders what would your iPod look like if the Roman's hadn't left England?
Wrong Passcodium.

The iPodium boom!


7th January 2012.
Social networking has been a huge success with the Smart phone set of which I refuse to join. My daughter being a fully paid up member offered to include this website on Facebook and Twitter, much against my personal judgement. But I let her have a go. What happened? Well as expected that from the 30,000 visitors there was bound to be a few who only have the capacity to express their view with foul, mindless language knowing that their written word can not backfire. I knew this would happen and "I told you so" was transmitted to the said daughter via the media of speech in person thus allowing the recipient the chance to apologise or produce a positive reply. So the experiment is finished and I have personally removed any trace of Social Networking click tricks. I hope I'm not alone in this networking world where a person can have any opinion he or she wants but keeps it to themselves.

My view of Twitter? A place where bored idiots open their lives to the world and then wonder why other bored idiots reply. Get a life.

Monday draws nearer and the start of my 2012 gigs with flying visits to Durham, Doncaster and Walsall, the van all packed with stock, the frig' packed with microwave ready meals and my head packed with new scripts and stories collected during the holiday. On the road again.

27th December 2011.
Happy new Year to all.
Having sat through numerous movies of flying reindeers, talking snowmen and countless oinks from the kids favourite “Peppa Pig”, I have escaped for the sanity within of my office which I share with King Henry. Down comes the 2011 wall calendar, out goes the website 2011 calendar and in comes the new calendars for 2012. Another year, another 15,000 miles ahead and about 150 schools full of amazing people.
I have also added to my visit the option to build a classroom project, where all students are involved and the final product is a wall mounted portrait of King Henry VIII to be hung whenever Tudor’s comes around again in the curriculum. As it is an ebased kit it must fit onto A4 print sheets, so I designed it in small section subassemblies which can be added to make any size of picture frame desired. I have built up the kit and it works well. All you need is a picture.
Here is the Kit. All you do is print it off as an instruction and master pack, then either photocopy the main sheets as you need them onto thick paper, or, highlight the main pages and print them of as a selection. I would recommend at least 120gsm to avoid paper curving and fold against the edge of a ruler. Use paper paste sticks and apply glue to the blue tabs only.
When you have made the portrait it will become solid if you paste just the frame with PVA glue, the teacher’s favourite!
Download this file for the ekit.

Click here to download this file

If you want a portrait of King Henry VIII you can download one from this website and resize it.
Shhh! I think the kids have gone out now. Might be able to sneak downstairs and watch my present favourite series “The Bing Bang Theory” which nobody else likes in the house.
Henry Tudor.

15th December 2011.
Busy mending RV windscreen covers, door seals, kids toys, stuck doors then fitting a new windscreen for the Bonneville, my hands are sore with using spanners, pliers and screwdrivers. Sounds like the usual Christmas break to me!
Many thanks to all the 140 schools which booked the company in 2011, we at Henry Tudor wish you all a wonderful Christmas and hope you all have a prosperous new year with 2012.
Prosperous! Always the optimist.
Have laid up the RV for its annual rest, the stabilising jacks down, the water system drained and the battery on trickle from the roof solar panel. January 2012 looks quite busy with visits to the North East, South Yorkshire, Berkshire, West Midlands and the North West. Quite looking forward to the road again.
I am planning the Summer RV tour for the research of Historical stories for the website, remembering that the South of England is staging the 2012 Olympics and so the campsites will already be booked up, I am pondering on a French trip to find out what Henry Tudor got up to during his forced stay before returning to England to rid us of King Richard III. I already have delved into his path to the throne after he landed back in South Wales, but that French period is a mystery to me and I need to know just where he stayed, who with, who funded him and where he raised his mercenaries from.
Sounds like fun and then watch the Olympics on the RV Telly each evening.

Have bought tickets for the Manchester Motorbike show in March and the Gadget Show Live at the NEC in April, gadgets and bikes my passions.

8th December 2011.
Well this is the last school until 2012. The early start and the silent creep out to the RV to keep the baby next door asleep, the clanking of the cable as I unhook the RV from the main house power socket and then the dreaded moment when I start the RV’s diesel engine hoping that the baby is still in dream land. Out of earshot and amongst my normal road users, the HGV’s of “before dawn Britain”, I began the drive down to Stafford some 80 miles from home along the busy M6 motorway. This is the first drive south along this motorway since my expensive tyre blowing incident a couple of weeks ago and it caused me to adjust the cruise control down to a creeping 50 which was made worse because now all the lorries were passing me, blowing at me with their poor aerodynamics as they passed and spraying the RV with a slither of the dirty surface water from the second lane.
The day turned out great, the caretaker was waiting for me and put the RV in the most perfect spot for unloading the theatre into one of the biggest halls I have ever seen in a Primary school in England, Castlechurch Primary in Stafford. Not only that, the staff and children were all dressed perfectly in Tudor costumes, all 60 of them in the year 5 classes. Theatre lighting was set up to spotlight the Royal court giving this workshop a real feel of drama. I knew as I dressed into Henry clothes that this day was going to be a great day, and it certainly was. An audience of parents turned up at 2pm to watch their children dance and ask Henry questions, I saw myself in these people and remembered the performances my children were in with their Primary school’s many years ago. Now I’m old and about to go and watch one of my 6 grandchildren’s Christmas shows at her school and will probably fill up again just like Castlechurch’s parents who were wiping their eyes.
Here’s a picture from the school, I hope that 2012 is good for them all and they remember their Tudor day all their lives.



Just a couple of gigs left until the new year, a talk and a panto then it's back to the road.

27th November 2011. Somewhere in Cumbria.
Just a sly word to Triumph Motorcycles. When you design a pair of saddle bags for your bikes and they can let in water through the top lid, at least put a hole in the bottom to let the water out! I'll say no more except they are going in the bin.

Never seen rain like it, torrential all day and night, wind rocking me to sleep as the RV swayed back and forth, complete blackout with clouds and night sky forming a cocoon of silence that only ear defenders can reproduce. But great too. What a complete change of life style with mountains and lakes to cheer me up. Cumbria is brilliant all the year round.
I do occassionally mispell by accident, caused by having large fingers wider than the keyboard on my iPod, so please put up with this as I try to correct them when I get to a proper desk top set up where my hands fit.

26th November 2011.
I received a lovely poetry book, written by a class where Henry had spent the day with his workshop. No need to explain it in depth, just see the samples in the picture below. Perfect!




25th November 2011.
Gloucester, Watford, Forest Gates and Keswick.

Sunday I drove down to Gloucester, kipped on a lorry park then delivered a King Henry VIII workshop in a wonderful primary school just next to the city centre. The next stop was in Watford north London and so a night in the comfort of Denham Caravan Club sight was in order. Day three, a day in an East London school in Forest Gate, all three schools completely different in nature but wonderful and put a huge grin on my now aching face.
Never, Never count your chickens before they are hatch, and never praise a good working vehicle.
On the way back home on the motorways, I was quite chuffed that I would have been out for three days, 600 miles and worked with great schools, what a way to make a living! Then I drove over a shard of steel lying on the M6 near St.Helen’s and blow out completely one of the rear wheel tyres. A complete blow out which shredded the tyre into a mass of steel wire, webbing and rubber which wrapped around the handbrake cables and destroyed them. Three hours in the cold wind later I was on my way home again thanks to my local garage coming out to me, do not tell me to join a auto club as I am in the RAC who did come but could not work on it because it was three feet above their limit in length. Next time read the hidden small print, ignore the bonus earning salesman at Morrison’s who will nod ok at any question to get his money.
Now a day later, rested with the van mended with four new tyres, two new brake cables and refitted shoes, I am thankful I got out alive as the van swerved madly with the stricken wheel locked at 60 MPH and swerving across a busy motorway towards a slip road with no hard shoulder. How much? Nearly £1,000 but now safe again and ready for the road for another short burst before Christmas. Why did I say burst?

Now for a couple of days in the Lakes.
Keswick here we come.

Hard shiny bacon, dried up black pudding, half a slice of fried bread laid upon a cold plate which is curling up the egg white. Not the description of what it could have been, a traditional English Breakfast, more a plate of badly served food which should have been much better. Not a greasy spoon cafe, nor a wind swept van in a lorry lay-by, but a picturesque motorway services with a duck pond with an unwarranted four stars. How much this early morning delight? £10.50 with tea. The manager should be around the back feeding Black Bess.
As you can see I’m on the road again, this time up to Cumbria for a couple of days off the Royal trail. Not a good start!
Got the bike on the tow bar so should the rain actually stop I can go for a few rides over the mountains and around the lakes. Please, stop raining.

1st November 2011.
Undercover.
Buy Henry Tudor
I admit to a wry smile when the black BMW 325 whizzed past me on the way to Windsor Castle, it was followed closely by a black BMW 535 and left me for dust trawling behind an ASDA truck in the first lane. Only two minutes later the two black Beamers were on the hard shoulder, still in the same configuration and distance apart except the BMW 535 had a blue flashing light in its rear window and front radiator grill. The wry smile turned that memorable “glad it’s not me” chuckle and soon became out and out laughter, pulling the imaginary steam train hooter in the air. An undercover speed trap from unmarked car, hehe. This put the thought into my head about walking around Windsor Castle, a bloke alone, with a face like mine staring at original Holbein’s of the original King Henry VIII. Would tourists see me and say something? So a plan was quickly drawn up, I would hide my face or wear something to quench the thought of “Hey man! You’re the spitting image of the real guy up there”. I would be picked on if I hid my face, the searching of bags and persons on the entrance gate for bombers soon lets you know that anything unusual would be treated with suspicion. Having just been through the see-through camera both at Houston and Heathrow airports I was not in the mood to explain the scarf and dark glasses. So the plan focussed upon camouflage rather than disguise and I hity upon a notion of blending in with a touring group who nobody ever looks at nor remembers, either Japanese or American tourists. Japanese soon was discounted for obvious reasons, and all I needed was a group of Americans in their baseball hats and waterproof raincoats. Not more than ten seconds and I found one, they were following an English lady with an umbrella and so I put on my NASA baseball hat bought last week in Texas, and tagged onto the end of the crowd. Nobody knew I had joined and the whole walk round the castle and St. Georges Chapel was both inspiring and peaceful.
I was perturbed that the tour guide ignored the burial place in St. Georges Chapel of King Henry VIII under the centre of the Quire, where he and Jane Seymour share a tomb with both the executed King Charles I, and a baby Prince born to Queen Anne Boleyn. The most interesting thing would have been to discuss the order of the inscriptions, Jane then Henry then Charles then the Baby, but the actual order of internment would have been Baby first, Jane, Henry then Charles. The truthful acknowledgement being implemented by King William IV in 1837. This was found to be true when checked in recent years and thanks to DNA analysis. Another point of discussion would have been why King Charles I was interred in the same tomb as King Henry VIII? It was the biggest insult the Cromwellian civil war winners could have done to the dead King’s Royalist followers, to put their lost leader with the one who started the reformation in the first place! I really could not open my mouth to the tour guide at the time, as having no American accent would have given me up as the infiltrator I really was. So I kept my mouth shut. I tried asking one of the badge-bearing assistants of the location of the actual entrance to the tomb , but she didn’t know, maybe it was the Northern English accent which betrayed the American hat and so put her off? Now I had to find the way in myself without getting told off or worse, to be escorted out to a black van and jail. It was easy, all I had to do was stand in the centre of the Quire over the tomb and count the windows from one end, then when outside again, I would count the same windows from the outside and see what was on the chapel wall. Not far was the Tudor Rose near a stone staircase going to an underground chamber, mmmm.



By now the Americans had gone off to look at the weapons, guns, swords and spikes which do not interest me so I overtook them and headed for the original Holbein drawings hanging near the Queen’s Drawing room where one of the most famous portrait of Henry hangs painted by Dutchman Joos Van Cleve. An artist from Kleve where Henry’s fourth wife Anna Von Herzog had travelled from. Now I could stand in front of the man I look like, full sized and arrogant in his stare, it was eerie. The curator of the room moved and stood behind me, he cause me to move on and see Prince Edward, Lady Mary Tudor and Lady Elizabeth Tudor, remember they had been demoted from princesses due to annulment of both their Mother’s marriages to the King. Joos Van Cleve’s portrait of Henry moved me the most as it was like looking into a mirror and it gave me a moment of thought of how he stood in his Royal clothes and projected his strength in his stare. Even now after 7 years of portraying this man I learn something new every day, today I found out that his gaze was not a scowl, more of a “see though” study of the person being stared at, this has changed my act slightly and now I am practicing this approach ready for the stage.
Then it was the suit of armour, one of many King Henry had had made for his sporting lifestyle and craving for Knightly conquests. It told the truth about the King’s actual height, I estimated that Henry would have been 6ft 2 inches tall, whilst the suit in the Tower of indicated that he was 7 ft tall. Yes, but with the aid of spacers in the legs and built to con the crowd from a distance.
I walked slowly around the castle and left satisfied with the trip, 215 miles of motorways well worth the effort. That wry smile came again when I noticed just how many jets passed closely over the castle from and to Heathrow, one every minute I calculated, Henry would not have put up with that had he been around today.



Now it’s off to an old stag hunting ground of King Henry VIII, the California Park some 9 miles Northwest of Windsor Castle where I have booked an overnight camping pitch next to a pond where I can get a good night’s sleep ready for the rigours of “The Children’s Court of King Henry VIII” to be performed by Henry Tudor at a Primary School in Bracknell. “Hey, it’s Henry” exclaimed the lady at the check-in desk, forgetting the undercover act!
How many clocks do we have in our busy life? Not just the timepieces on the wall, but don’t forget your iPod, iPhone, car dashboard, anti burglar lighting auto timer, central heating, Wifi timer, etc, etc. So it comes as a great shock to discover missing one in the bi-annual resetting for good old English time adjustment for winter and summer lighting. So my trusty phone alarm got me up at 04.45 instead of 05.45 and I was after showering, breakfast, and driving the 8 miles to the client school, that I discovered I was one hour early. One hour of extra waiting outside the locked gates. I was tired one hour earlier, and drove home the four hour journey in five hours which landed me on the drive at the same expected time but totally out of sync.


28th October 2011.
Twelve days in Houston, Texas has left some great images in my head which I will keep for the rest of my life. Not just because it is a full day’s trip away from home, nor that America beckons as a place to visit for culture, but that there is so much to see that is worth seeing.
The NASA Space Centre, the Air-shows, the City parks and the food outlets all are a must for the tourist, but there is another Texas, the wild one.
We went to the local Park in Katy just for an afternoon stroll and take out 4 year old grandson to the playground there, but we found ourselves sharing the scene with a North American Beaver, a flock of Vultures, rather Ugly Ducks, a friendly Squirrel and a large Crayfish. These Texan creatures made our day and were felt honoured to be there without them scampering, swimming or flying off in fear. They were not tame, they were just not scared and were used to people being in their environment.
As a local fisherman on the park lakeside said to me, “I come from the mountains of Arizona and now live here in Texas, here you have to go find the beauty, it’s there but not staring at you.” I think this sums up Texas.


27th October 2011.
It took and extra 4 hours to get home due to an engine failure and a change from KLM to British Airways, but we managed to get home and sleep off our jetlag. Here are some stories and pictures to finish off the trip to Houston.

There once was an ugly ducking..........
The song put is so well as the duckling turn into a beautiful swan. Who are we to judge just what is ugly and what is beautiful surely beauty is in the eyes of the beholder and someone or something thinks you are beautiful when the rest thing you are ugly. Where am I going with this story? Nowhere except to show you some ugly beautiful pictures.



Now what about cute



and finally Memorable.





Hi ya'll
Texas calling, 24th October 2011.

I've broke my computer, it will not let me use Office anymore until I get back home. This means that the last few stories are being held back until I can get to my desktop machine and process the pictures. No big deal, this simple wordpad seems to be doing the writing okay.
The North American Beaver, the Herons, the beach at Galvaston Island, the Rain forest, these will be inserted from 26th October.
So keep you eyes on the website column for these new entries
It has been a great 12 days over here in Texas, i've eaten too much, driven long distances and seen so much that interests me that it will be quite a wrench to leave tomorrow. The Space Centre at NASA, the lovely Galvaston Island sea front, the spectacular golf courses, the fountains and park of the City of Houston then there were the restaurants. Denny's for breakfast, Wendy's for burgers, the Chinese buffet, the Japanese sushe, the fabulous steamed crab shacks and then to top it all off, the enchanting Rainforest restaurant. If I stay here any longer I'll be so fat the new Henry suit will not fit. Then there are the Texans, so laid back and polite driving their huge long wheelbase pickups down javellin straight concrete slab freeways over three high intersection bridges past looming City proflies we only ever see on CSI back in England. Not forgetting the giant bugs, the exotic birds, the wild turtles and the North American wild Beaver which are so tame and fit into this environment that they are a inclusive part of the Texan family. I have successfully fit in here, my family too have fit in here, we will be back.
Mind you, I do miss England with its cooler climate, smaller expensive cars, crowded roads, expensive fuel, costly parking, boring restaurants which are not child friendly and indifferent shop staff. I miss that, there's nothing to moan about over here.
Southern Texas is not perfect, it has no hills, mountains and not much green grass. It has many repeated shopping blocks and a car showroom every hundred yards down the freeway.
Texas is different and that's why I enjoyed the change and a change is as good as a rest and if I lived here I would probably start to pine for the cold wind in my face and the Pennine hills in view, the windy roads and pavements to walk on, the ride on my Triumph Bonneville on Sundays for a hot bacon barmcake at the end of Southport pier. I miss the Henry Show on the road and the fabulous Primary Schools, the peaceful existence inside the RV. The fun of being King Henry VIII.
Now see what writing this conclusion has done, I'm pining already and have suddenly become cheerful again, going home tomorrow, yea!
Goodbye Texas, thanks for having us, we will return next spring.

19th October 2011.
NASA Space Centre. Houston Texas.
By Henry Tudor.

Row 12, front of the third carriage of the two hour tourist road train. Makes you feel small when you pass these huge buildings, car parks full and hard hated employees staring as you pass. The tour guide seemed fed up of the camera clicking crowds and I knew how he felt having been there, done that too for five years at Samlesbury Hall. But this tour was different, it was real life, not an old house history, castle or museum exhibits, this was where they created the NASA space control and still do. They train the astronauts here, design the craft and test the systems. This is where they sent and controlled the moon missions from with less computer memory than a pocket iPod. This view was filmed live from where we, the rest of the world, watched the lunar landing until the early hours. This is where I decided I wanted to see it for myself one day thus adding it to my tick list. Now it is ticked.
It was everything I wanted to see. Not simulated, mocked up nor embellished. This was real NASA going about its business but with a train passing by every hour. I will remember the words of the first ever astronaut who took the first walk outside the space craft, he said that we thought space was silent as it had no atmospheric particles to vibrate and transmit sound. But it things touch they transmit their sound. “IF YOU TOUCH IT, YOU HEAR IT”. Wow.
It all comes alive on this tour but it also give you a stark reminder of just how many brave astronauts have died in the search for progress, they have a bronze plague under their own tree along the NASA road. What concerns me is that these trees take up a single row in the memorial field leaving much more room for others in the future. There’s no shortage of the willing, like feeling space, they want to hear it too.
HenryR
Here is a collage of my pictures taken today.




17th October 2011.
SWATTING BUGS IN TEXAS.
By Henry Tudor, presently the target of indiscriminate attacks by blood thirsty insects.

Texas has a reputation for things big, the biggest pickups driving down 10 lane highways past huge towering cities and passing under three layered curved bridges. Huge eateries, stocking towered giant burgers and eaten by robust diners. Then there’s the bugs. We have bluebottles in Britain which annoy us in the mini Summer’s we suffer, but how could the average Brit put up with the giant cockroaches, huge brown ants and mini helicopter dragon flies. Now I have the red spotted bite marks to prove that two mating love bugs do bite whilst they snog and collect my perspiration salt. What is needed over here in Texas is more of their swatting vans, what’s the use of only one SWAT van per police station. Manned by very tall, obviously highly worked out Officers, the regular SWAT van is armoured, the arsenal consists of chemical sprays, machine guns and armour piercing shells. Some of these weapons are over kill for getting rid of bugs, maybe more super strength fly spays or larger fly swats, ‘cos how can they stop environmental damage when they fire a rocket at a swarm of ‘roaches. Beats me.




16th October 2011.
The Houston Air Show
Quite a privilege for me to attend this display of skilled flying in a sunny Houston. Thousands of visitors, many nationalities and hundreds of static planes, helicopters and stalls selling aircraft products. We met the British team with the BAe display only to find that one of them lives only 3 miles from our home back in England. This was a fabulous setting for a spectacular with WWII reenactments and modern jets doing seemingly impossible maneuvers to the roar of the massive crowd. Here’s a collage to give you a feel for the day.



14th October 2011.
Keep watching the column as Henry has crossed the pond and is sunning himself in Houston, TEXAS. Watch out for the Airshow, The Space Shuttle just two of the best ever venues stories for the column. Did I mention golf.

2nd October 2011.
I live in a lovely village in Lancashire called Euxton and for the past 32 years of residence have ignored any possible history of local interest, whilst I gazed intensely at Tudor sights around the country. Well what an eye opener it was to go for an evening walk from my house to a the River Yarrow on the Northern side of the village. I passed a Billionaire’s mansion with its stables and helicopter pad, a Pub called the Euxton Mills and started to walk lower down Pincock Lane towards the River. I had read that there was a riot started here 200 years ago because of the new Technology Steam power taking over from the old Water power. Euxton it seems had five water-powered Mills, from a carding mill to spinning mill, to weaving sheds all along this river. So camera in hand I went in search of the remnants of these water-powered mills and try to understand the reasons for the riots. I had a clear thought of what I was looking for, here is a picture of the mill layout as would have been along a river of such magnitude as the Yarrow.



Low and behold it did not take long, I found all five mill positions, all the sluices and one near intact sluice gate. Here are the pictures of the mills as they are now, buildings gone, wheels gone but layouts still intact.



The sun was about to set and so I left the scene one mile downstream via Mill Lane, crossing the main road and following the walking signs through the woods and past the heli-pad again. Try this walk if you live near Chorley, only an hour long but full of surprises.

25th September 2011.
A dear friend of mine who acted the role of Katherine Howard, well she got herself married yesterday to her long term boyfriend and soul mate. Both of them look great together and we at Henry Tudor Drama wish them a wonderful lifetime together.
I wasn’t jealous of her new husband as she was only acting with me, and my actual wife was sitting next to me!

10th September 2011.
I've not forgot the worldwide thought of tomorrow, 911 is imprinted on everyones mind. Here is another face of war.

The Italian Chapel on the Island of Lambholm in the Orkney Islands.
The human face of war is sometimes a wonderful sight, and my trip to the Orkneys brought this to full meaning. The ship Royal Oak was sunk in Scapa Flow by a lone submarine which had sneaked through barriers guading the deep waters protecting our fleet. The uproar caused by the terrible loss of life and the breaking of our national security, spurred Parliament to order the building of concrete barriers to join up the many Islands and seal up any way in not guarded. The task was considered suitable for Italian prisoners of war and they were shipped up to the wind torn Islands to produce this defence soon to be called the Churchill barriers. No need for prisons, bars or many guards as the ice cold rough sea was all that was needed to put any escape off. They were camped on a small Island called Lambholm and so Camp 60 with 13 nissen huts was created. The Italians had to mould all concrete blocks, move them out into position and then drop them into the sea on top of each other to eventually form rough but dry barriers, still there today as a road base. Some prisoners walk into town and met people, befriending them even becoming lovers, the islanders accepted these men without any aggressive warlike hatred. The Italians, even though kept from their families and homeland felt safe and got down to the task of building the best barriers as a show of their skill. Soon however they began to need a religious chapel of their own, a place to worship and be with their God. Captors were helpful and provided two steel nissen huts for the project of building a chapel in their own free time. Their skills with concrets and steelwork soon came into play and real Italian chapel emerged from the shell of the steel domed huts. Still there today it is a testament to the dedication and skill of these men, the islanders are proud of the Italian Chapel and will tell all visitors about it and the Italian men who built it.
These are my pictures taken August 2011, my second visit to this great place.



The Italian Job
By Henry Tudor

Sad Royal Oak caused pledge of Royal cure
To stop warfare blood from Island’s shore.
Captured Italians jailed won’t lock them sound
They’ll build a defence from the ground around.

Make many concrete block and drop in the sea
Create Churchill’s barriers, let them roam free.
Live in Lamb Holm camp, make safe to attempt
Kept secure by the sea, no bars, guards exempt.

In Nissen huts, concrete base, steel curved above
They lived out their toil days, some too fell in love.
With local girls they used their great charms
The lonely girls cooed, then fell in their arms.

Worked hard, played hard, they forgot to pray
Needed a church to repent, meet God each Sunday.
They had a cross outside ‘neath bad island weather
So they found two steel nissens, joined them together.

Concrete abound they set their new Sunday goal
Build an Italian chapel, with Saints for their soul.
Painted Icons, wrought iron rood screen
The Best Catholic chapel the Orknians had seen.

The war soon was ended, the prisoners cheered
But for those still in love, the news they all feared.
All soldiers left for home in their army grey
But some soon returned, still there today.

2nd September 2011.



23rd August 2011.
Back to Henry's roadshow and the loading van, painting the backdrops, organising my new costume and planning new gigs. Great fun really but I do miss the wandering spirit of life in the RV. First gig in a couple of weeks in Kent, then off to Cambridge. Then into October for a special trip to see my Daughter and her family who have just set up home and work in Houston Texas. So a two week trip to see them and of course NASA and the space shuttle. A must for a technology freak like me, another box ticked.

18th August 2011.
The new extension to the M74 in Glascow fooled my TomTom into believing we were flying over factories and houses. Because of course the map store has not been updated to include this new motorway. But, the voice of unreason inside the satnav kept on insisting that I should turn off the field and resume to drive on the road instead. She even threatened me with non existent islands and speed traps, but I let her blow some steam as she has guided me around Scotland for the past 22 days and now to the last camping ground for the RV before we reach home tomorrow afternoon. Now the Loch Ness rain which has followed me down from Fort Augustus, Past Fort William and Glen Coe and on past Loch Lomond to South Lanarkshire where I found a great place to sleep, has finally caught up with me. This stop gave me the opportunity to delve into the 1,000 or so pictures I have taken and collage a few odd ones into my “Sites for sore eyes” signing off page for the trip. Only 155 miles to go tomorrow but will start the day at a motorway services and try to undo all the healthy living meals I have been having of late for a big fry-up! Yea!



Then I remember being shocked at finding graffiti on precious standing stone circles on Orkney, only to discover their historical secret!



16th August 2011. Off line for a week, so there's a lot to show for it.



Seals.
Only ever seen seals in the wild a couple of times in my life, once at St.Ives in Cornwall and once in Ullapool when on both occasions they swam up to the harbours walls and waited for someone to throw them some chips. Now in raw Scotland away from the tourist trail I decided to find some wild seals and take their picture for the website. But now this task began in Nairn near Inverness then it went to Dolchalm up near Golspie and now I’m the furthest north on the mainland on Dunnet head, camping at Dunnet sands, but alas up to yesterday no seals. However, I did give up and decide to sail over to the Orkneys from Gills harbour ferry with the Triumph and explore those beautiful tree-less Orkney Islands with their Churchill barriers and Italian Chapel. In the queue at Gills harbour I noticed two black objects bobbing up and down in the water but had no time to investigate further. Also on the return to the mainland I noticed them again but again no way of escaping the stream of traffic leaving the boat. So today I rode over after the boat had gone and investigated the same pool of water to the east of the harbour wall. Not two seals but four and all playing happily, jumping out and diving to pop up next to their kin. It was not possible to walk to their playground, so I trusted my zoom lens of the camera and here’s the result.



Now with the task complete I want to photograph a whale’s water jet because on the trip over the water to Orkney I’m sure I saw one.
I should really carry my camera with me always, yesterday two Eagles circled over me as I went for a walk on the farm where the RV was parked. There are only 7 pairs in this area so it was a very lucky sighting.


Have been off the grid for a week now, at first the lack of internet and phone was a pain, but after a couple of days I began to like the freedom. But now having driven 150 miles south I am sitting next to Loch Ness which has a strong signal.
Here's all the things written whilst on the moon.

The Spendthrift
I had to come over the whole of the Northern, Mountainous part of the Scottish Highlands just to find this Castle and write the story of a love struck squire and his spendthrift wife caught up in the middle of the ’45 uprising of the Jacobites against the incumbent Royalists. This is Ardvreck Castle near Ullapool on the north west of Scotland, close to the very spot where Bonnie Prince Charlie Stuart landed with his few helpers to start the uprising. This part of Scotland was definitely Royalist so the enemy was on their doorstep and local landowners and Clan leaders had to fund the initial resistance and then join in the fight at Culloden, on the winning side.
Poor old Kenneth MacKenzie was deeply in love with Frances, he wooed her and proposed marriage only to be spurned because his Castle was then 300 years old, damp, cold, small and sticking out in the loch for protection. She demanded a new house with servants and a Lochside view but on the shoreside. To appease his intended wife he let her design the house. This woman was as much a spend, spend, spend woman as Vivian Nichols the pools winner of 40 years ago. She spent lots of money but then the invasion of the rebels started and Kenneth had to dig deeper into his emptying pockets to fund the Royalist local militia. After the winning of the rebellion now a poor Kenneth return home and had to sell his house, his castle to the Earl of Sutherland, also a Royalist. But local opposition to the Earl and love of Lairt Kenneth caused the locals to burn down the house before the Earl could take up residence.
Some time later the house was looted for the stones and a school-house built across the Loch, raided at night by men in boats who took the stones a boat load at a time. The Earl never lived in his new house. Frances left her poverty stricken husband for a new richer man, Kenneth died of a broken heart in poverty but loved by the villagers around him. Frances went South East where the money was.



Spendthrift
By Henry Tudor

Come stay in my great Castle my future wife
So cold, so damp, so dirty. Not on your life.
But I love you so, you are soon my own spouse
Forget it, stop asking, or build me a new house.

A new house for my heart string, to quell any fear
I’ll let her design it to resolve any tear.
Four storeys, five chimneys, dozens of glass pane
The cost is enormous, but love is my gain.

Face calm water, large garden, servants lodging as well
The first simple dwelling now suddenly did swell.
Woven carpets, and fine curtains, silk tapestry too
Then she wanted her clothing to match through and through.

But now came the Jaco’s to fight Royal hand
Italian Prince Charlie nearby here did land.
But we are for Royals so needed to fight
Cost a fortune in weapons, for men overnight.

My land, my great Castle, her new House and my wealth
All gone now we are just paupers, and so is my health.
I warn all you young lovers, makes sure she has some cash
Don’t marry a spendthrift, as decision too rash.


6th August 2011
Whilst staying in the grounds of a farm in Scotland I noticed this decrepid caravan in the corner. The story I got when I enquired broke my heart, so I have written it down in this poem. Be prepared for tears.



Overgrown Grass
By Henry Tudor
Years gone by have not repaired his heart
Alone and sad, his long love depart.
These two were always together then
Ivy, Jack their Pup and husband Ben.

They had travelled far with camping club
Trailer tent then caravan their homely hub.
He loved his wife Ivy from teens to death
He held her hand, kissed her last breath.

Their dream was to live on Scottish soil
So twice each year they spent their hard earned toil.
Before that dream could be truly real
Ivy stepped out, a runaway truck she did feel.

She lay there as beautiful as ever
He’d sit and talk, though she replied never.
It took a year for her to die
He still sat there with silent cry.

The house felt so empty, just now Ben and young Jack
He dreams of the past years, he wants them all back.
He sold the house they loved so much
It broke his heart, her frame he clutch.

He drove to where they dreamt about
He set up camp “we’re here now Ivy” he shout.
Sixteen years now have gone by so fast
Each one merges into the one last.

Ivy in ashes, Ben with Jack in his chair
Together again the inseparable pair.
The farmer knew something was really wrong
The grass round their van seemed long and so strong.

He went to call gracefully, if Ben was alright
But Ben and Jack had died peacefully together that night.
All three now they roam happy, two lovers and their mate
The van gone, the grass cut, a new sign on the gate.

“This field, this campsite, is called our “Happy Glen”
Dedicated to a family, Ivy, Jack and old Ben.

31st July 2011.
Sitting here in a field near the town of Coldstream I can here the distant pipers playing-in their new Coldstreamer from the ranks of their young men. Black midges attacking me from across their territory of waves of barley fields, I am constantly waving my arms about like a madman. However, this trip has been an outstanding success up to now with Flodden under my belt and Twizel Bridge giving up its history to my camera.
Here's a few pictures to give you an insight of what I doing.











21st July 2011.
Whilst driving home from Cornwall I noticed a burning-brake-pad smell as I stopped, and heard a squeaky rear wheel trying to get my attention. Gulp! Will I get home or not? Then the heavens opened and the driving rain quenched the wheels and after a while I forgot about the near incident. However this week I went to a school in the hills of Lancashire and the squeak returned. After dowsing the wheel with water and creating a man-made cloud of steam, I decided that the brakes are catching and need looking at. Gulp again! Will I get home and how much will it cost?
The great garage in my village, where commercial vehicles get serviced, agreed to look into the problem and fit new pads if needed. However, even after 61,000 miles the pads were only halfway through their expected life and all that was causing the problem was the dust of wear had blocked up the system. After a good clean out and resetting of the handbrake the RV is as good as new, Phew!
I’m back on the research road soon as the schools are on holiday and I need to get a grip on the married life of Margaret Tudor who married King James IV of Scotland. So its off to Scotland, I’m planning to call at Flodden on the way up to get the story of James’ defeat by the Duke of Norfolk and Queen Katherine of Aragon.
Will be following the path also of the fleeing Mary Stuart down to Carlisle, interesting stories to come.


8th July 2011.
Trying to get home from Cornwall, but weather and traffic have forced me to stoppover in Weston Super Mare next door to a Helicopter museum, so will visit it and report back.

There are many new items in this website from Cornwall, go see Triumphant entry for a report on Tin mining, go see "Whose Arthur?" Q.589. for a frank report about King Arthur Pendragon of whom Henry's brother was named. But here's my favourite, most difficult one to write about and it is in a poem we should all think about. I don't care if the flow is wrong, the rhyming poor. The meaning is the most important thing. I call it 100 and thank the Eden Project for shaking me awake.

100
By Henry Tudor
Forget the world as you think it now,
Forget your lifestyle from a shallow view.
Let me show you what is really there,
I’ll say it plain, I hope it will shock you.

Imagine the world only a hundred strong,
See if you are one of the lucky few.
View these facts from where you belong,
But please remember about the others too.

60 are of Asian born, 14 from all the America’s,
14 are from all of Africa, only 11 are Europe born.
13 cannot take a drink, for water is not theirs,
Whilst 15 live in slums, their view appears forlorn.

50 are urban dwellers true, 24 have internet,
13 dies before 40 years, 6 have dreaded malaria.
10 die from tobacco smoke, 15 are too fat
33 have no electricity, can’t think of anything scarier.

15 cannot read and write, 18 live of a dollar per day,
9 are under 5 years old, 10 are pushing 60 years.
37 have no toilet drains, 15 starve for food they pray,
14 have no health care right, illness their main fears.

2 will be born this year, but only one will survive,
Can we not redistribute? This is not a world of plenty.
Wars and famine, power and shame, we need to revive,
90% of all the wealth, is owned by this world’s 20.



Hey! Remember that article I did about creepholes in dry stone walling?

I saw another the other day and luckily I had my camera in my bag.



Classic!



27th June 2011.
Some time ago I bumped into the guy who is boss of keeping the Trough of Bowland in the perfect condition it is today. He was looking for a focal point for a Bowland talk from the grounds of Sawley Abbey in Lancashire (only just!). So I received a booking to talk to a group of enthusiastic history lovers in the grounds of an Abbey that King Henry had demolished! Could be tricky.
Not so,these people were very knowledgeable in their History, they were open minded and willing to hear the story of their Abbey's demise from another point of view.

Here they are.



I enjoyed the day, it is always as bonus for me when the audience know what you are talking about and can add their ideas, very stimulating.

7th June 2011.
Back home again this timne from the East Coast, Yorkshire Moors.



Why come to Whitby for a short trip of five days? Well there’s Tudor history all around as well as the first chemical factory in the world at Ravenscar, then there’s miles of clean sandy beaches and glorious cliffs with windy roads over them. An why not anyhow, I love the East Coast From Scarborough to Saltburn, my favourite place to be and only 3 hours easy driving in the RV with the Triumph Bonneville on the Motolug trailer behind. I have had a great time, been sunburnt, frozen and soak in rain all in the short time there but the meeting of some great people along the way has made it so entertaining. Bikers alike myself, fisherman and wife, visitor centre historian and neighbouring RV campers.
See pictures below and go to the Triumphant Entry section for the Alum story.
One day left, not sure where to go as my planned historical visits are complete, just the kind of day when something new appears out of the blue, like a steam train maybe.



When I saw all the rust on the old cars a notion came to me about corrosion and erosion. Then I found these pictures.



Corrosion and Erosion.
Just one day left before I head back home, be a tourist go visit Goathland and Whitby, get some fish and chips and an afternoon cream tea.
I did say yesterday that things sometimes come along not planned but create a great little story. Well today that happened.
Goathland the little town that time forgot and became the location of the long running Police drama “Heartbeat” was my first place to call on the Triumph, the only bike around that day. But the thing that I noticed straight away was the corrosion of the old cars, and even the ironic rusting of old cigarette steel advertisements in the steam railway station. Then off down the hill to the port of Whitby and its Abbey, but again this time the wearing away of old gravestones by wind erosion stood out like a sore thumb.
No need to write a lengthy tale about the day, just see the two summary pictures below.
Oh the cars, 1. An Austin A40, 2. A Morris Minor 1000, 3. A Ford Anglia Police car and finally a Bedford truck. Rust boxes even in their day!



1st June 2011.
Just returned from Alcala De Henares again.



Alcala de Henares
May 28th 2011
By Henry Tudor
I love this place on the hill
Watched over by the stork
Narrow streets so clean, no spill
Cafe's outside to rest from work

Many throng to hear Cervantes tale
With blunderbuss by his lanky side
Don Quixote intrigue never deemed to fail
Bring laughter, fun, feel good inside

But what of Tudor and Royal Princess?
Brought here by command of royal nest
She left as youth for England to bless
First of six but by far the best

Arthur then Henry a Queen worth her weight
In gold and in heart she gave us her soul
A fickle King Harry just would not wait
A son he must gave, rejecting her whole

Poor Catalina, sad, rejected, lost and forlorn
Beaten by a black eyed witch with her evil spell
Stopped being our queen for which she was born
Dying alone, deflated just seems like her hell


26th May 2011.
Another day older today.
Tomorrow I'm off to Madrid with Ryan Air for the weekend, must see the Acala De Heneres Palace again but this time in Summer with its splendour in the bright sunshine. Just got back from London and a wonderful school in Willesden Green. Learnt a new wave "The Willesden Wave" taught to me by a year 4 lad. Brilliant.
Here is a picture of the Tsunami taken less than 1 secod from hitting a village, over 100 feet high. The picture was found on a camera memory stick found floating.

Thanks to Ian for the picture.

Makes our lives look cushy

21st May 2011.
Bricks.
Two giant pork pies for 6 quid, bargain!
The feel like bricks.

Well tomorrow I set off for London’s inner ring road and Denham as a base for two days in a great school at Willesden Green. A history there to be confirmed by more research because I may have accidently stumbled upon a great story.
It seems that the “village” was formed by the formation of a brick making facility when the call for brick fill to prevent fire hazard buildings was in its infancy. The building of Hampton Court for Wolsey in plain brown bricks (The London Brick), later found to have been painted cream for the distinctive Tudor zigzag striping. This building being taken over by Henry to be transformed into his wonderful Palace for his new wife Anne Boleyn, had these cream painted stripes bricked over with the genuine cream brick based upon limestone clay found in chalk deposits. Hang on I’m getting to the point!
Well the River Brent had a curve in the flow at a point where there was a way over, hence “Brentford and Twyford”(two ways over), the clay on the Northern side was very lime based and hence cream whilst the other side was London clay hence brown.
So the river provided the water, the two clays provided the two coloured brickworks and they both created the extended communities of Brentford and Willesden.
Willesden Green has a long history with the area being recorded in the Doomsday Book of 1086 as 'Wellesdone'. By the 14th Century a small settlement had formed around a woodland clearing, which later became Willesden Green. By the middle of the 18th century the village had grown and had its own pub, „The Spotted Dog‟. At this time Willesden Green was notorious for what was called „baby farming‟ where unwanted infants from London were sent to be nursed.
Baby Farming?
Now swamped with information and looking a clear route with an acceptable outcome, I must try the first pie.
Long drawn out pause whilst Henry feeds his face.
Back again and now with a clear plan of action.

Simple, keep it simple! I always extended this advice to all my previous life students. If it looks complicated then find the simple straw and work along it!
Here is the simple straw.
1. Clay is under most cities, that is why they stay up!
2. Rivers provide water, transport and boundaries
3. Rivers need ways over to break the boundaries.
4. Curves in rivers cause them to widen and thus flow shallower which in turn provides crossing places.
5. Many rivers contribute to bigger rivers.
6. The Brent flows in a windy manner into the Thames
7. There is limestone clay on one side of the Brent and Brown clay on the other which can make cream bricks and brown bricks.
8. Hampton Court is on the River Thames therefore can use both coloured brick which are easily delivered.
9. The brickworks was on a bend for crossing the river, on a hill for excavations and has land to grow food for workers with a well for fresh water hence “Willesden Green” or maybe, Brent or Brentford.
10. Now which one would make both coloured bricks? The one with both colours of clay! Willesden Green.



What about the baby farming I here you say? An infant industry needs infants to grow into a working community! Simple.
Even I could not eat two giant pies.
The Baby farming story will have to wait until I develop another appetite.


29th April 2011.
Catherine and her Prince
By Henry Tudor

Pompous ceremony, drums and horn
Wedding, death, or Royal born.
Crowds to gather, flags to wave
Banners to span, memories to save.

All travel far to watch and glow
Unified with pride this Royal show.
Camp out all night to be at the fore
Cold, tired, hungry with feet quite sore.

But as the bride passes to Royal place
White silk shines beneath white lace.
Gone are thoughts of Pain and ill
As she goes, your eye’s do fill.

The people came to see you marry Will’
They love you Kate, and always will.
You showed the world how serene you be
That lucky young Prince, from Royal tree.

We stand up now with pride, much content
Visitors came, became friends, then went.
They took the memory of this special day
You painted the world with happy spray.

I feel quite proud of London today, they took in millions of people, made them feel welcommed and put on a Royal Wedding in the usual expected way, perfect.
But remember too that there are people out there who have suffered a Tornado, an earthquake, Tsunami, murderous dictators and terrorists. I just hope the world soon begins to show planning towards peace and humanity.
William and Catherine, Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, we all wish you well.

12th April 2011.
Even Dolphins die!
The End of a Dolphin’s life.

The harbour master truck was making its way towards me along the sandy path from the beach blocking the way and forcing pedestrians to mount the grassy embankment on either side. The truck stopped at the tarmac and the driver’s mate got out to release something tied by rope to the rear of the flat-back. The driver’s mate staying out of the truck, the driver started up again and left his friend with the bundle in the middle of the path. The stranded mate, took his mobile phone out and rang his depot to inform them that the truck was returning, but he had tears in his wind swept eyes.
The bundle was a dead Dolphin, found on the beach that morning by some runners who had reported their discovery to the harbour master. The dead animal was dragged on the soft sand by the truck and then left with the driver’s mate whilst a hoist was obtained from the depot. “Cannot bear to see dead creatures like this, and we won’t drag it on a rough hard tarmac” the mate explained to the watching pedestrians. “It will now have an autopsy to find out how it died, but it looks like old age to me.” He nodded slowly, obviously upset. “All living things die”.




30th March 2011.
I received a large, thick envelope this morning. Not expecting anything from one of my internet suppliers I was pleasantly surprised to find a whole class sized pile of letters from St.Mary's in Horsham, West Sussex. So taken with their lovely letters I penned this little ditty just for them, but I'm sure they'll let you all read it too.

St.Mary’s Year 4
By Henry Tudor

So much joy in the hearts of our Nation’s youth
Behind their blue badges our future now rest,
It just needs unlocking to find the real truth
Go forward, develop, become leaders, the best.

Year Four of many thousands, the age that inspire
Just need to see reason then try to expand,
Watch carefully then learn some, no time to tire
Make Eagles and Pictures and write Feather in hand.

Thank you St. Mary’s for sending me your great tale
I will treasure your messages my heart they did feel,
Keep on learning, expanding, hoisting your sail
Moving forward our future with you at the wheel.

Y'see, I'm a real softie at Heart.


27th March 2011.
How far would I go just to answer a question?
Well, I have a great system of logging questions which need travel into my computer and when I actually go near the place it pops up and I go and sort it out.
Some time ago I was asked about glacial boulders in Cheshire, they wanted to see one and stand on it. There are thousands about but only a keen eye would spot one as they have become our normal countryside scene. I remember taking some school activity group to stand on one in Cumbria and logged this at home. Problem was the photographs I had taken many years ago were lost. Now this past few days I have been studying privately in Cumbria at an old copper mine and slate workings for my general knowledge to be first hand not just from the written word. I redirected my new sensible satnav to the village of Grange near Keswick and went to get fresh evidence of the boulder rolling history of glacial Britain. See Q.573 for these pictures.

24th February 2011
Just how badly could the new SatNav get me lost? Well there I was about to go round the same town centre round-a-bout for the third time, and Bacup was beginning to get on my nerves.
I then found out just how nosey a person could be, I stopped the round trip and decided to ask the way to the old Mill that I was searching for.
“Excuss me madam, but do you know where the Union Mill is situated?”
“Why, do you have business there?” was the reply which took be aback somewhat.
“I’m collecting something there, am I going the correct way?” I tried to divert her enquiry.
“No, this is a round-a-bout, you need to go round again then turn up there” as she pointed to a road barely in view. “What are you collecting?” She grilled.
“A trailer” I replied.
“Oh you want the nutter’s then!” She laughed.

I thought I had just met one of the “nutters” and drove around again, then up the non-descript road smiling to myself and mentally asking “How come I always meet them! I’m like a magnet for weirdo’s.”

The Satnav suddenly realised it now knew the way to the mill and took me straight to the gate of the factory which made the type of motorcycle trailer I was looking for.
Two big guys, one a lot bigger than the other, in fact quite a giant really, and a bubbly redheaded lady with a cheeky grin met me. They were "the factory", making the trailers to order and soon we were in friendly conversation. The lady asked have I ever heard of the Bacup Cocoa-nutters, a group of men who dressed up as blacked-out miners with cocoa nuts strapped to their legs to play in the streets as a way-out Morris dancing troop for charity. I began to glaze over thinking was she related to the lady in the street? but then I suddenly realised I actually had seen them before on the TV and it seems I was in their place of work. So it seems the guide was correct I did want to find the nutters.
The Satnav behaved itself to get me home, but the story fell on disbelieving ears when I told my family about my day, so here I am trying to tell you all about finding the Cocoa-Nutters of Bacup and hope you will believe that there is such a group of men, and they also make trailers.

3rd February 2011.
Just had to post this here from my lastest postbag.

Hi Henry. You look so angry in your portraits, are always like that?
Of course I’m not. I can be fun, loving and kind but who wants a King seen as a push-over?

How many adults out there, remember their school days where you joined a group just to be cool. Sitting on the wooden chair are the back of the classroom, “....hard backed chair leaning ‘gainst the wall”... Dolly Parton”.

No matter how fierce a person has got to be seen as, a heart still lingers underneath.

“.....A man may weep upon his wedding day.” William Shakespeare.

We all try to be someone else, only you know the real persona, most people around you know your outer-self with your inner-self let out in modified format. Then there are the people you do not know, for them you transform your outer self to what you really want to be, you wear fashions, apply makeup and even act out the personality to make people believe it to be really you. Some people try to convince themselves that they are this made up person by changing their personality permanently with tattoo’s, piercing and hair dye.
Just think about how you pose for a photograph, is it you, is it as people know you, or is it how you want to be seen? Trouble is that you rarely see yourself as others do because you see yourself in a mirror and they don’t, so when you see your own picture or video you are shocked and ask “is that how I really look. Now mix the sound into the equation, you hear your voice from inside, your ears pick up your voice from outside and inside, mix them up and that’s your sound. But how do others hear you? They only hear the outside sound which can be distorted by distance and their own hearing system. Now for a shock, watch a video of yourself talking and you will shrink into your inner-self, not believing that you have been portraying yourself differently all these years.
Now back to the question, “...why do I look so angry in all my portraits?”
I must venture into the world of psychology and the three persona theory.
A photograph is taken instantly and nowadays costs nothing to produce, you can afford to be whatever you want, all three persona. But in my day photography did not exist except for the Camera Obscurer. A portrait had to be painted and took over a month to produce. It would have cost about £6,000 in 2011 money and only one would be seen and any time.
Now consider you are a King and you want to present yourself to the country in your portrait, which persona do you want to use? What type of clothing should you wear? What about the display of wealth, how much should you wear and of what quality and cost?
Here’s my answer to your questions:
1. I will never wear the clothing again as they are only for the portrait, so I will spend a lot of money on them.
2. Jewels will be the best in the world, only one piece will be seen again to show I have respect for some event in my past.
3. I will wear my hat on an angle to emphasise my eyes and portray a feeling or mood.
4. I will stand with my legs apart to create a stable rectangular look, not a top heavy look.
5. I must look tall so my clothes will not be too long, balance to my height is very important.
6. Never smile on a portrait as it make you look to easy to overpower. I will show my evil eye and portray a man not to be messed with.
7. Colours are important, I will not pick my favourite colours, I will pick expensive colours that portray danger, Red, Purple. Then I will choose gold as an accessory colour to display wealth.
8. Warm, width and trim will be accommodated in my choice of fur trim, I will pick short hair, dark fur from a bear, which symbolises the danger of the bear and the wealth to afford it.
9. My face is an important feature to my persona, so I will trim my beard in a square look to hide my neck, double chin and sagging cheeks. This square-cut look will be easy to recognise and will become my iconic feature.
10. I will wear hose on my legs to hide bruises and old age, they will be as white as we can make them to be seen as “porcelain-like” as possible, a gold garter on my stirrup leg and my dagger on the same side. My shoes to be silk, not for wearing outside but meant to be anti-slip for my private quarters. This will allow the viewer a little glimpse of my private life.

All of this portrayal is how I want people to see me, the other two Henry’s are only for my close friends, my wife and myself.

9th January 2011.
Having been quite shocked to see the new path of the jet stream in our upper levels of the atmosphere, the sine wave seems to be moving towards mid Europe and bringing us new weather patterns. December 2010 now the coldest ever on record! Bookies not bothering to allow people to bet on a white Christmas any more shows the way we accept this climate change. Fuel now at record levels, £134.9 for a litre of diesel, how will our infra-structure cope? Everything over here is effected by road transport in some way so I expect rising cost of living, rising cost of taxation and rising unemployment. Flu epidemic, motorists stranded, airports closed, water papes bursting and electricity blackouts. This was just the past three weeks!

So now I've made you miserable, let's all try to enjoy the year and not bother, just shrug your shoulders and smile. Even if you are cold, in the dark, stranded, poorer, drinking bottled water and the kids are getting on your nerves, just think it could be worse, you could be a Liberal. Or could it?

29th December 2010.
I notice the men two weeks ago digging the hole at the end on our avenue, they stayed for three days until the snow came. Not filling in the hole, they put a piece of plywood over it, a tarpaulin over that, then they put warning cones around the hole to stop bikes or kids falling down it. But, snow melts and becomes water, saturated with minerals from the dig it will be conductive and electrolytic and this causes electrical shorts. But the men did not come back as a Bank holiday was moved to allow Christmas day and Boxing day to be at the weekend. Now Wednesday, 10 days after the first fall of snow and into the thaw, this hole has shorted out the entire street, relieving us of TV, lights, computers, wifi, microwaves etc etc.
Out came the candles, the battery lights and even a clockwork lamp which has never been used since receiving it as a gift some five years ago. Out went the raw food into the parked RV sat there doing nothing on its expensive thickened concrete stand. Cooking on bottle gas, singing along with songs blasting from the ample lungs of Dolly Parton, what a great evening, candle lit family dinner, no stress.
“Someone will get told off for this tomorrow at their office”, sympathised my wife. Hmmm, “should be thanked”, I thought.

No Lecky
By Henry Tudor
The hole in the path, just left covered with lath
Whilst the diggers have fun, out came the sun.
It melted the snow, the water did flow
Conducted a short, now power is nought.

But all is not lost, out there an unused cost
The RV has its own heat, so cook in light, relief treat.
Light candles, drink cold beer, eat hot food, make good cheer
Survive power cut well, with no telly to dwell.

One new instant release, we found heavenly peace
Reading by candle flicker light, most enjoyable night.
Will remember this day, when power flicked away
Will accept all as fun, when power comes back on.

11th December 2010
Bugs
By Henry Tudor
Heard this before?
Go on a website to find a gift or something and what happens, a virus finds its way into your computer. Not just any old virus, but one used by unscrupulous individuals who demand a fee to let your computer work again. Your screen is hidden behind their blackmail box and you think you have been drawn into a web of corruption and know you must not give out your credit card details.
Now here’s your knight in shining armour, in the unlikely form of my daughter who is a wizz-kid when it comes to computer systems.
Here’s what is happening, their blackmail box is now the first thing the computer picks up when you turn it on, so do not turn it on.
Here’s how to send the demon virus away:
1. With your computer switch off completely, that means not in sleep nor hibernate format.
2. Get ready with your left index finger because now you’ve got to beat the computer before it picks up the virus from its files.
3. Press the ON button and immediately start repeatedly pressing the F1 key. Do not stop flickering the F1 key until a computer message appears asking you do you want to start the correction procedure.
4. Click yes.
5. Wait for a few minutes and your computer will come on your windows screen. Do not touch any icon.
6. Go to the START globe button and open all programmes
7. In the Accessories file click on the computer systems program and click on past history dates.
8. Now choose a date that was before the virus. Click and now wait, about 15 minutes whilst the computer takes your control system back to a time when you had a clean machine. No files will be affected, but the virus will disappear. Just bide your time, go make a coffee.
9. Your original screen will come up maybe your wallpaper is gone, but who cares.
Not stating the obvious here but, did the virus appear just before your annual subscription for your computer defence package was due. I’m not saying this is connected, nor who the culprit may be, but after talking to many victims, this is the biggest coincidence I’ve noticed. Somebody out there knows about your computer renewal dates.
Next job is to sort out your defence in case this viral attack happens again.
I bought my defence package originally with the computer and paid annually to update it with the standard package after being asked to upgrade to a more expensive one. Now I’ve dumped all these products and asked Microsoft themselves for their advice. Great news out there, download Microsoft’s free package and get it to automatically upgrade each year, free! Microsoft do not want viruses lowering their products life, so they give you a free one that has no financial aspect to it, hence no blackmail.
So now polish your armour, feed your horse, brush your feathers and ride off into the wilderness of the internet knowing that you now know how to slay the dragon.

4th December 2010
Hi
It has certainly been a strange week. Snow claimed a gig in the North East so the RV has been stuck on the drive all week, but must say that the road conditions are scary at the moment and getting stuck on a motorway is not my idea of having fun. Gateshead will of course get preferential calendar re-scheduling for their Tudor day and I hope to be up there soon. My daughter’s family flew in from Madrid for the funeral of my Mother and it looks like they are stuck here too thanks to the Spanish Aircraft Controller strike. 350,000 Euro’s per year and they are moaning about cutbacks! I wish I was a seller of brown paper bags with eye-holes in them, as they will need these to avoid being lynched on the streets of Spain by mobs of recession hit Spaniards.
Always an eye open for a good marketing angle!
Anyhow, back to reality. It’s raining today and looks like the snow may clear by Monday so my planned trip down to Horsham for Tuesday is still on the hot burner, need to check out the RV and load it with Henry’s Castle.
H

22nd November 2010
Hi
My 88 year old Mother died last Thursday, a sufferer of Dementia who could not recognise anybody, even her family. It was as if she had died twice.

11th November 2010

The other day whilst sitting, warmish in the sun in the back garden of my daughter’s house in Madrid, I overheard my three year old grandson shout at his dad “Hey Tonto”. I immediately wondered how does he know the name of The Lone ranger’s faithful side kick who was always getting into trouble needing the masked man in lycra to help? Even my grown up children have never heard of The Lone Ranger, nor Wagon Train, nor The Virginian and not even 77 Sunset Strip because these TV shows were in the black and white era of my youth, the early 1960’s.
When I think about The Lone Ranger, I now squirm with embarrassment because of the stupid things that were broadcast and we took them in like lemmings.
Eg.
1. The mask that only covered his eyes like thick framed spectacles and nobody recognised him out of costume in his cowboy checked shirt.
2. He never went to the toilet nor eat food, nor got dirty.
3. His horse was pure white and called Silver, yet nobody saw him coming.
4. Tonto his faithful Indian scout supposed to ride his palomino horse bareback but had a saddle under the blanket.
5. It only ever took minutes to ride between towns which must have been at least two days ride away.
6. How did The Lone Ranger make is money to live? Where did he sleep? Did he have an RV on the studio lot? Now I’m being facetious.
But we always knew that he was never wrong and he fought for law and order along with his faithful friend Tonto, until that fateful day in the warm sun of Madrid, there this image was shattered for ever.
I enquired to my Spanish speaking daughter, how did her son know of Tonto? Only to be told that in Spanish speaking countries it is a form of mocking, it means “You Idiot”.
So when The Lone Ranger was riding off with Tonto directly behind he shouted “Come Kemmo Sabi, Tonto” it did not mean “Come my faithful friend”, it actually meant “Keep up you Idiot”.
How’s that for a shattered memory.

Oh and when I describe the sun as warmish, it means that after England's 6 degrees and rain, Madrid's 18 degrees and sunny is heaven.


9th November 2010
On the grass
By Henry Tudor

Turf from the border of Holland and Germany in 16 ft X 3 ft pieces.
A team of highly skilled grounds-men to lay the turf in perfect alignment and level.
Under soil heating and drainage and watered by automation after mowing by experts on foot to ensure the correct pressure.
Not a single weed, grass shoots so close together the soil can not be seen.
The rule of this grass is uppermost in this place, nobody is allowed to walk on it unless they have the approval of the board of directors or are a friend of the one man in charge of the ground, nobody.
80,000 people who usually sit around this field would love just to walk on it just once in their life, the picture below will break their heart’s that they were not with me in it when the man in charge of the ground pressed the button on the camera.



Where am I? The date 6th November 2010, one day before a crucial match with their local arch rivals. We are standing on the pitch at Real Madrid as it is my grandson’s 18th birthday.
Thanks “P” you made his day, and mine too.
Boy what a day.
HenryR

2nd November 2010.

The Time machine
By Henry Tudor
I am asked frequently by kids in primary schools, “What would King Henry VIII like about 2010?”
Trouble with this question is where do you start?
So, let’s pretend Henry stepped out of a time machine into 2010 straight from his pampered, non-electronic life into the modern age. He would certainly want to change his clothes so he is not picked on by the Holbein indoctrination he left behind, surely he would want some time to acclimatise so his flamboyant clothes would only serve as a red flag to many a bull dressed as country walkers. Now the clothing issue would be his first point of call, no strings to ties up tight the ends of sleeves, elasticised cloth which actually allowed movement, any colour desired without leaching in the wash, Velcro and zips. So first of all he would be astounded at the variety and quality of clothing the everyday people of England wore, how they were allowed bright colours and the magic of getting dressed without two or three dressers being paid to ties you in. Velcro would go on the top of the “I like it” list.
Then being able to see inside the room without the flickering light of candles and huge log fire, electricity would soon become an obsession, trying every switch and knob after the initial fear was overcome. Now the food thing, the refrigerator containing meat, vegetable which should not be available this season, but is. Ice-cream without the frozen lake nor the Ice House, is everybody so rich? Now consider the Television. To show this gadget to Henry must be done slowly, with great care not to give him a heart attack or accusations of you being a witch, just remember the fate of Anne Boleyn and her alleged sixth finger. You will need to show stills first from your iPod, then explain how the picture looks if you flick through them at some speed, then only show simple pictures of the countryside and animals. Jumping this process and showing Bruce Willis in his dirty vest or even worse Toy Story in 3-D is likely to kill the King on the spot.
Leaving the warm house, and unlocking the car remotely will cause some concern, so be the first to enter the machine and let Henry sit at the back in the middle surrounded by people he had already met in the house, do not drive off quickly but just moved off at 2 mph for a while so he can get accustomed the horses not being there. Drive on straight wide roads for a while with no traffic lights, let’s not confuse the man. Take great care not to consider turning on the radio and definitely not the satnav, someone talking now from the dashboard would endanger everybody’s lives when Henry tries to climb out of the car across laps and through the window onto the M6.
There’s no point is showing Henry a newspaper, he would not be able to read it as the English is modern and the print so small and evenly printed and especially as the written word is so provocative and seemingly uncensored, he would cry out in amazement how writers were allowed such freedom and demand the editor’s head on London Bridge. This gets rid of the problem of telling Henry that London bridge is in the middle of a desert in America nowadays, think how hard that would be to explain.
Dressed in a good suit, chain still around his shoulders he would look like a visiting Mayor, eyeing up the women and the food he would appear depraved, he would be hissed and booed by amateur historians who believe the written word and the TV shows, he would also be inundated for autographs but unable to write with a pen, the many photographs taken will frighten him.
Frankly, I think he would just get back into his time machine and go home.

Time to ponder
By Henry Tudor

I declare this machine is rather clever
Time moves to and fro by moving this lever.
2008, 2009, 2010 oh! This time will do
I’m getting hungry now, need something to chew.

Where on earth have I landed
Everyone rich, even the left-handed.
Clothes that do stretch and joints that do stick
No need to tie string, cloth dainty not thick.

Every food everywhere and cheap
Shops so bountiful, do heap.
The people eat so swell
They have their own well!

Carriages for all with no horse at all
They fly overhead, and seldom fall.
Ships that make my Navy look small
News instantly from a dish they install.

I cannot belong to this world, now it’s old
I came here just to see what could unfold.
But it’s too hard for me, to accept what I see
So it’s back in the seat, press return now complete.

I’m going back to my time, slow life, live so fine
Pretend I had sleep from too much red wine.
Will not tell about this day, to my folk
Just dreamt a nightmare then awoke.

26th October 2010.
My Critical Day Out
By Henry Tudor
I have always wondered how famous people knew other famous people before they were both famous. Examples of meeting at University, living in the same bedsit area or being served by a cloakroom girl in a dingy nightclub in Liverpool. Non seemed possible in my ever critical mind. But, they did and it was possible because something similar has happened in my line of work.
My mate Bob, that’s all you are getting in the way of identity and I could be making the name up to protect the innocent, we have been close friends for over 25 years now. We are completely opposite in character but do enjoy the same love of the motorcar, especially if it’s a powerful , full-on sportscar.
“Bob” is nowadays a food critic and runs a famous website for the “normal” people who like a good meal in a great atmosphere without snobbery involved.
He keeps his real name and appearance secret because he is the Secret Diner from www.secretdiner.co.uk now compare him to me, I cannot help my stage character being the most well known man in English history yet I try my best to stay in the shadows and let Ray be Ray. So you see we both have trod our own paths down a similar route.
So, “Bob” took me on one of his normal reviewing days out, to Cheshire and to see the sights from his point of view. Boy was it fun, boy does he know his way about and where the best food is.
It started in the 1539 restaurant of Chester Racecourse for lunch. Now I’ve had various onion soups before but never in Cider, and it was a revelation, boring old Ray always loves Fish n Chips everywhere he goes and “Bob” Knew this, so he pushed me towards the meal in this restaurant. Conclusion: One of the best Fish n Chips ever.
Then off to the countryside via a Donkey sanctuary, a 14th century Pub, a canal boat painter, a chocolate shoppe and finally to view the giant Meercat. All this in a day.
“Giant Meercat?” I hear you say, yep. Over 50 feet tall and made of hay, standing in the middle of a field in Cheshire to attract the passerby to try the farm’s ice-cream. Just see the collage below and see the size of the person next to the Meercat.




What a day out, this guy is the best guide to the unusual ever, always has been.
Go see his website
www.secretdiner.co.uk
Read his reviews and stories of his travels, try some yourself.


4th October 2010.
Driving the other day back from Dudley, I became stuck in a traffic jam on the M6 for over 40 miles. “40 mph---Queue Ahead” this was being flashed on all the gantries so I expected to find a crash, or a road works or even fog ahead.
None of these as the M6 was clear on all lanes, it was the signs that caused the Queues ahead!
Have the Road designers never sent the factual effects that rear brakes cause? One puts the lights on the one behind does it for longer to allow the safety space, the one behind them does it again and so on. By the time fifty cars have been through this motion the traffic has stopped. Now you have a sign induced traffic jam. Not only that, the services are full, no parking spaces left as motorists find a haven to wait it out. The fuel stations are full as cars use up more fuel in the slow progress.
I hope a traffic officer reads this, consider the problem of just who is causing the problem and who is effected by it.
Now this week I’m at four schools in my own locality so long strenuous journeys are not involved in my planning. The Dudley trip outward was in the early hours and my satnav worked it out to 54 MPH average, whilst the return journey at 5pm was only 24 MPH average and an extra gallon of fuel.
Mmmmm!


15th September 2010.
I've been studying hat making of late and so here's a brief view.

Mad Hatters
By Henry Tudor

Wearing a hat will enhance your features, protect your head for the sun and weather and also indicate your skills by way of hunting hats, riding hats etc.
But have you ever sat back and wondered how did they make that hat? How did they get the cloth to be such a complicated shape and even keep the shape when wet?
First of all not many hats are cloth, they are felted strands of either hair or wool. Felting is to separate strands then arrange randomly to allow the barbs to lock together then pressed to the desired shape and thickness. Very basic is this explanation that I must expand the various details for you.
Rabbits were the preferred hair for hats in Tudor rich circles. Not easy to extract from the rabbit by chasing it around the pen with a pair of scissors! But easy after you have eaten the rabbit and have the skin left over, then you can flay the skin off to leave behind the fur. Not you need to wash it to remove the grease, this is the Lanolin, then dry it and fluff up the fur to expose all the hairs. Shearing off the best bits was the job of the trimmer with a very sharp blade, he was very skilled and so became known as the “cut above all others”. The hairs were then pressed into a rough mat so triangles can be cut from it. Why triangles I hear you say! Have you ever made a shape in paper mache? Then you’ll know that a triangle can be pasted into any known complicated shape. Not get a wooden former than looks like a bell, wet it and then paste the triangles onto the former up to two layers press to get the shape of the bell. This is very weak and needs shrinking and locking by immersing it into a tank of special liquid.
Special liquid, now I’ll stop messing with you and speak bluntly, a liquid made of a mixture of Water + Urine + Mercury. Now this liquid was highly poisonous and lead to harmful conditions of the human brain of the hat-maker, hence “Mad as a Hatter”. The urine acted as a mordent and with some alum flour (Aluminium Sulphate) would seal in any colour dye.
The wet hat was then pressed into the final shape and left to dry. This process is nowadays automated and a lot safer to work with, but in Tudor times a hatter did not live very long because of the chemicals used in this trade.

11th September 2010.
Lots of people ask me how many work for Henry Tudor Drama. Well only one really fulltime. I have a lady who works as Katherine Howard occasionally, she is a fulltime nurse. Then there's my mates from our past teaching careers.
Here’s how I operate:
You might have thought that I am a one-man band and that Henry Tudor Drama Company operates from my brain alone. Not so. Yes I do operate the company alone but I am a gatherer as well as the author/editor. I have powerfully clever friends who are world class experts in their fields. I will not give out their full names as they are very private too.
There’s Bill, a great friend of mine for the past 20 years or so, we regularly tee off together though arrive at the greens from different directions, he is a retired Sixth Form Principal and leading History Authority. His golf advice is somewhat suspect though as he tells you what you did wrong after the event, typical historian. He does have one extra plus though, his dog can find lost golf balls.
Then there’s Bob, another great friend of decades who is also an Historian and Geographer. A great forward planner who will not consider using a satnav and loves his maps. He also loves his food in a culinary way and travels England finding the best on offer. Bob and I are opposite characters, he is neat I am untidy, he thinks logically I think laterally. We compliment each other to the extent that we shared the same tiny, windowless office for many years planning our escape in which fate helped to succeed. Bob once told me he had Fish and Chips one evening in Wales, fine, but it was 90 miles each way for his supper! When travelling with Bob his knowledge pours out in odd ways, the farm we are passing, the types of stone, the hillsides all become his blackboard.
Now there’s Tony, not qualified in anything, completely daft but focussed on pre-invasion history. He knows where things are, where the hidden forts are, the wells, the lost foundations. He understands the Romans as if he is one. He has forgotten more information about functional history than writers have written. Just go with him into a forest of his choice and he will show you a stream, a hill and a gulley, then he will draw the picture of the iron age fort with defences and remove the forest to show a dwelling lost from the ramblers view, a sort of "Last ditch attempt". The latest article “Running Water” Q.568 was written after one of his research walks. Tony once walked around a famous house and stood staring at a portrait of one of the house owners. When approached by the curator, Tony told him that there was a picture of a woman under the painting. The curator later checked it out and it turned out to be a painted- over master worth millions. That’s Tony.

2nd September 2010.
You may have noticed that this website went off line for a few days whilst I was in Germany. It was the website platform provider who was at fault. No really useful wifi was available in the places I was frequenting so I was unnaware of the problem. Thanks to a Canadian reader who emailed me and to my mate Bob who was keeping his keen eye on the site the problem was monitored. The IT programmer is languishing in the Tower until further notice.
The website now is back on line and seems quicker in response times, obviously the remaining IT people are hoping not to visit the Tower too.

1st September 2010.
Three days in York and I am ready for a new season, from the stud farm campsite on the ring road to the park and ride number 9 with my bus pass, York is a wonderful experience over and over, I never bore with this city. Always something new, always some different angle to view the old favourites.
This is the Stud Farm were I based the RV.



This visit was not to be based upon the Minster, but on the people working around it where their lives were lived with this central scenery and the city walls with the river Ouse protected them. One very infamous resident was Guy Fawks who was born just a stones throw from the walls of the Minster itself. He would have seen the flying buttresses, the processions and his Catholic beliefs would have been ever so strong with such an influence on his doorstep.
The tradesmen in the cobbled streets supplying all a noble might need, markets and bakeries for the rest of the population. I went looking for rareties to answer some of the more difficult questions in my mind planted there from public enquiries. Such as “How did nobles protect their money?” This has niggled me too and so I wanted to find proof of my belief that they had safes.
Not just a notion of a box hidden under the bed, not embedded in a wall or even a secret chambers, but typical Tudor showing off your wealth at the same time protecting it. My thoughts have always been a treasure chest, in open view in a room but locked in some way and fixed securely, but it would have been showing off in the purest sense.
I had researched where to expect to find such a device of the Tudor period, not hard really, just who would have a lot of money, open in view, and expensive to contain secret locking systems? Wealthy Merchants! York was and still is a wealthy place, merchants had money to spare and so would explore new technologies and countries, they would speculate with high risk capital and if only a low percentage was successful it would have been still a high return.
So, Merchant Adventurers Hall just off Fossgate, bound to be a good starting place. Jackpot. This Tudor style building drew me in with my camera, the bus pass saved me a pound to get in, this building is still working as Merchants Adventurers and even today in 2010 they have a working committee and president. I found more than I could ever have wished for, not just treasure chest intact, but also open showing their mechanisms of locking and fixing to the floor.
These chests could be called Safes, treasure chests, money boxes to keep valuables in, but to me they were a treasure themselves with their hand made levers, springs and key tumblers. The size of the keys indicated they would be hung from the Nobleman’s belt totally in sight, the design of the outside of the chest was ornate so not to be hidden from view and the fixing to the floor was a near permanent system so the room was defined as a working, paying bills and meeting room. See the picture below.


Many thanks to Merchant Adventurer Hall for allowing a camera inside the house.

Now with the major job done I had to go and satisfy my love of anything engineering, Steam Trains at the National Railway Museum, heaven. Here’s a collage of that visit.



Old Blackpool


Next week its back on the Tudor road as the UK schools are back after their 6 week summer break. I have quite a few bookings so am looking forward to visiting Nottinghamshire, Sussex and Hull to schools new to me.

17th August 2010.
Boy was that a great trip, Holland, Germany, Luzemburg, Belgium and then Holland again in 15 days on the road in the RV. lots of stories to come and pictures out of this world. Just keep watching as I sift through the details.
Here's the Kleve German newspaper(s) reports of my visit.




Here's my travel blog in brief

August 2010 Kleve, Germany
It was not expected to be flashing camera’s and TV with reporters swirling around looking for a different edge over their competitor’s, it was thought to be just a simple walk down the street in Kleve, pose a while in the castle and then a stroll back to the Tourist centre, one hour tops. But it was not to be so simple, it was a well organised media event, with three hours of filming and photo-shoots, meeting the public and giving out pictures then culminating in the Anne of Cleve shop with a coffee and cake next door in the cafe. It was fantastic and I will remember it always as the day I made lots of new friends and gave a little of myself to make them smile. My day with my real wife was a great start to my journey around 1500’s Germany. For a great visit on your rushed journey from Rotterdam to the valleys of wine production I implore you to stop over at Kleve, you will be delighted with its charm and the friendly people. Call at Stadt Galerie Anna Von Cleve and then pop next door to the cafe Stadt Cafe Conditorei Wanders both are run by friends, ladies of powerful persuasion and management skills.
www.cafe-wanders.de
Stadt Galerie Anna von Cleve
I will post the shop as soon as their new website is up and running.
Genuine people with history in their blood.



Kleve to Ville Express.
Goodbye Kleve for a while, the road is straight, Dutch-like with open fields and ditches either side but this fairy tale ends soon as a road works sends us kilometres out of our way. Now having reset the satnav from imperial miles and yards into the continental metric system I no longer have to divide all signs by 1.5 to give me a mental vision. Back on the autobahn 57 we kept on passing stopover rest areas and so decided to use one as our future boring tales to the family and any victim we can corner. But, the one we stopped at turned into the dirtiest with the toilet block called “Dong” which was an obvious misspelling or the bottom of the Pee was missing. (See that! Two jokes in one!).
Now with a salad for lunch we sat there resting next to lorries when in came the greatest gesture to the Engineers in our midst, a homemade RV. Not a van with windows fitted with kits, nor a flat-back with a cut up caravan screwed on, this was pure homemade design and I loved it. See the picture. I had to sneak the photo from behind my lavish RV of which I felt ashamed that I actually bought it complete and didn’t build it as me dream as this guy obviously had done. It was covered with brilliant solutions for the man on the road, I did say man, but suddenly the greatest accessory got out of the passenger side door, a beautiful red-headed lady at which I shut the curtain in case my wife was seeing me purring.
The old Toyota Landcruiser was obviously very old, tired until the Engineer got his mitts on it. New extra leafs in the rear semi-elliptic suspension, new yellow Koni shocks in the front, the home-made roof, wheel mount and even toilet cassette door filled my eyes. Then I saw the real meaning of extreme, the massive jack was screwed to the running board and it was obviously powerful enough to tilt the world off its axis. As the couple got back in and started the sweet sounding diesel I noticed a large bone screwed to the cattle guard. Not going down the crude route, the Engineer’s thoughts came into my mind by telepathy, “We eat what we catch”.
Brilliant.



Ville Express. The Town of Liblar.
I had to visit this place enroute to the Mozel Valley. It has a castle with the most extensive of moats and a famous restaurant in the open in the middle of a scrapyard surrounded by old vehicles and household machinery. The greatest item being a full steam train hence the title.







Now just see this! A natural history photographer would have to sit in a hide for days to get these, but it was there as I was eating my packed lunch. Honestly.



The Mozel Valley.
All bikers must visit Cochem one time in their lifetime, it is the capital of born-again-bikers and home to one of the most picturesque castles in the world.

But first, I must draw your attention to the way man has modified the river.

Reflections
By Henry Tudor
The River Mozel in Germany’s Rhineland, vine-land, region has a wonderful thing going for it thanks to man’s ingenuity. Sometimes it does not flow. Yes it is a river not a canal but to ensure that the large canal trade boats and the holiday cruisers can use the river all the time the flow has been altered by the use of locks and levelling systems. This in turn means that at some point the River is filling the deep end after a huge vessel has been shunted through into the shallow end. This time delay for filling gives the river an uncanny stillness with no apparent movement of water in any direction. What would normally be an impossible picture then is attainable, reflections across the river which are perfectly formed and with no ripples to alter their delicate forms. Here are some taken which also contain one of the actual dams and the boat going through the massive lock.



Now here's the pictures of the scenery.









31st July 2010.
On the road again, this time to Kleves in Germany and the birthplace of Henry's 4th wife, Anna von Kleve. I will endeavor to find internet hotspots even though they are on the other side of the road! Lots of stories to come and a new Queen Anna is about to take over from Petra.

26th July 2010.
Not long ago there was a worldwide hullabaloo about the lack of Bee's to pollinate our crops. Maybe the crisis is over this worry as I haven't heard a siren, maybe not. But we have this year so many bee's in our garden's and grassy places that I have to wait whilst the short sighted Bee tries to extract nectar off my golf ball everytime it lands on the way to the green. Not only do we seem to have extra bee's. we also have more pesky flies trying to stop me watching documentaries about Bee's.
Don't get me wrong, I like bee's, they do us no harm and they keep us in crops and honey, I just wish that documentary makers finish their tale better. It's no good telling the world we are going to die thanks to the lack of bee's, then forgetting to tell us that the crisis is over and that the polulation of the bee world has come back even stronger with so much free time on their bee hands that they have taken up golf.
Here's a Bee ditty.
Bees Knees

By Henry Tudor

Hairy legs collect the wealth of flowers pollen passed with stealth
Beeline to hive, return the prize, workers work, keep Queen alive.
Build a place for Queen to swell, hexagons her place to dwell
Babies born and fed Royal jelly all came from one Royal belly.
Collect the sweet but do beware, these Royal bee’s will stop and stare
They will attack to save their stack, they will defend with their stinging end.
Wear cover from head to toe, smoke out the war and safely go
Collect and melt this wondrous treasure, cakes and puddings now a pleasure.
So now defend the garden King, buzzing round to do their thing
They will not hurt so show respect, without them there, flowers neglect.
We should delight in this wondrous Bee, picking pollen with its knee
No plants without this workers flight, damage world decay and blight.
Interpret whatever way you like, Bee’s Knee’s mean pure delight
Small and priceless worth more than gold, buzzing round plants new and old.
From humble shrub to blossomed tree, this worker works for us for free
The best needs help so hear this plea, to keep our wealth, care for the bee.

Noting that this article makes it look like I have too much time on my hands, I must get back to the Henry World and plan my next trip. Yep! It's Kleves time again and I'm off to the German Castle to meet the latest Anne of Cleves. The last one was Petra and she is to become a mother soon so her workmate will don the costume for a new set of photo's in and around the picturesque Castle and Cathedral. It's a hard job but someone has to do it!


18th July 2010.
And finally the garage is finished, well it's not really as the walls have to dry so I can paint the rendering cream, but is a garage and "the bike has left the building."



16th July 2010.
There is a scaled model of Tatton Hall on show in the actual hall. BUT, being the kind who checks details there are also four rows of windows more in the model than the actual hall. Obviously the model was the perfect idea of what to build, but in reality the cost and wall thicknesses then came into play and the real building was reduced to suit the pocket and the ground. The camera also can lie about scale.
Here's Tatton Hall with a bit of clever photography.



Now here's a carpenter with a sense of humour about scale.



Hehe.


14th June 2010.
Bonding
By Henry Tudor
Yesterday was a wonderful day for me, not good weather, not a business thing, but a rejoining of friendship between me and my 17 year old grandson. We have always been friends, not close as same age peer groups, but a two generation-gap pair of mates who play tricks on each other, help each other in times of need and who both love the same people but from a differing perspective. His mother is my daughter, his young brother is also my grandson but they live in Spain and he lives in my home. Now can you remember when you were 17? Trying to be an adult, alone in your bedroom with music and football and the inevitable playstation or in my case, my push-bike, my records of the Beatles, Parker jackets and beetle crusher shoes. Well he’s going through that phase and I seldom see his face emerge from his sanctuary of a bedroom. He has been studying at our local college “Sports Science” and wants to work in the sports industry when he graduates, he spent a lot of time trying to get an end of term job for the 8 weeks before his second year, writing to football stadia and fitness clubs, seldom getting an answer.
The old saying, “It’s not what you know it’s who you know!” is definitely true, but I hate that because many hard working, eligible folk don’t get a look in because of it. Now my grandson is a lonely guy who misses his previous life in Spain and of course his direct family and so relies upon me as a father-like figure to help him sort out his problems. Or so he did until recently. Now with the few returns to his letters we clamber round looking for his vacation job so he can have money for next year’s college term. The new Triumph Bonneville comes into its own now, it can go anywhere cheaply and quickly and off we rode yesterday to Manchester to visit Sport City about 1.5 miles from Piccadilly Station where he would emerge from a daily commute. I was so impressed with the place having never been there before, Manchester City Football Club stadium, Badminton centre and the vellodrome from the European games era, what fantastic regeneration. Boy can we produce the goods.
He emerged from MCFC waving his hands high, my heart was pounding and a tear blurred my vision. Yes, he had got his place for work and he will work with expert staff amongst the cream of Britain’s soccer players.
Now back to reality, it started to rain. Not as shower, nor as drizzle, a complete downpour and we were 38 miles from home and our transport was a sparkling new motorbike. We emerged from the Sport complex beaming, by the time we were on the M61 we were soaked to the skin, water running in our shoes and down our backs, the bike now looking 10 years old and our trembling adding to the manufactured vibration of the engine. He croaked down my ear from the pillion, “Granddad can we eat out on the way back near to the Bolton Wanderer’s stadium?” I could not refuse. KFC gives me indigestion but he loves it so off we go and parked up for the chicken meal, paying with wet money, sitting in wet clothing and watching the bike steam from our table near the window. He was so my old grandson again, joking and telling me about his life at college, his mates in Spain and his plans for the future, we were a team again.
So you see, it was a wonderful day because I re-bonded with my grandson and we became great friends again. And he loves my bike even in the rain.
Returning home we manoeuvred the bike into its temporary home, the lounge, carefully dried it off and polished the smudges and brought the machine back to its former glory. Thanks Triumph you made my day. “Oh! Granddad can you pick me up tomorrow at work and take me to college to hand in a late assignment?” Back to normal, the taxi driver.
Now I would like to get something off my chest about not replying to emails and letters. I have written both letters and sent emails to local historical houses and never get an answer. THAT’S IGNORANT and not a good long term policy for public relations. Now me being old and rich I don’t care what the houses do, it is their business how they conduct their relations with their public, but a young, eager, future customer well that’s just bad management to ignore their enquiries and treat them so rudely. I would sack any employee who treats the public that way and if it was the policy of the house they were following then get off your high horse and look who pays your wages, the public. Astley hall, Turton Tower named and shamed. Now I wouldn’t work in your establishment if you crawled to my house, because I can afford not to.

7th June 2010.
The last time I managed to fit a car in my garage was 30 years ago, in that period the concrete slab construction with asbestos roofing panels became a workshop, a cycle shed and more recently a place to dump our daughters own rubbish from their houses. Fitting in the old Vespa and my beloved golf bag was a trick of magic and when I decided to swap the Vespa for a new Triumph Bonneville I had a careful look round the old building to see how to get the new machine in. Say what you like about old stone houses with Ivy growing up the walls, yes it does look “biscuit tin” picturesque, but there is one natural thing the plant does to walls which is a disaster, it dries out the mortar and the walls fall down. The old concrete block garage had this nostalgic look with a lovely covering of Ivy and therefore the concrete was found to be goosed. Crumbly concrete doth not create a strong dwelling so I decided to level it and rebuild a new brick building after I execute the Ivy down to its roots.
Planning the event to follow the installation of a new kitchen and to be finished before the arrival of the new motorbike brought out the calendar and I proceeded to construct a critical path analysis chart. What could go wrong?
First of all the booked builder moved the dates by a month into the beginning of June. Luckily I was under the impression that the bike would be mid June so this moved the red line on the chart but it did not extend the overall timebase. Still with me?
Now Triumph bring forward the date to last Friday and the old concrete garage is still there, the CPA has took a nose dive and the builder arrived on his new date this morning. This could be summed up in a single word, OOPS.
Now with no garage for two weeks where do I store my new shiny, easy to nick motorbike which I have already found a fond spot in my heart for?
Getting the chart out again I plotted when my family were due to visit Madrid for a holiday without me and low and behold it is tomorrow. Problem solved!
“When the cat’s away the mice will play”, only a bloke could come up with this solution, lateral thinking from a major player. I will fit the RV ramp into the patio doors and put the Triumph in the lounge! Now half the population (men) are secretly nodding whilst the other half (women) are openly tutting and shaking their heads. Look ladies, my wife will be sunning herself in Spain, I will be here working and as long as I can see the Telly and there’s somewhere to put my cup of tea, it is a neat solution. The garage gets finished before she reappears and the bike goes into its new home unscratched, unstolen, and waxed to death whilst I’m watching CSI. The Critical Path Analysis worked up to now, my only worry is the building being finished on time, I have a black devious thought if this happens, the Icelandic volcano sends some more dust into flight paths again and my family have to stay in Spain longer. Not a serious contender but definitely a possibility.
See these pictures. There you see the plan was perfect, I can see the telly over the bike.
Footnote: The garage will never see a car, it’s for the bike and the golf clubs! Hehehe.



31st May 2010.
Last day of the month, half term holiday in British schools and so no Henry jobs for a whole week. Time to sort out RV, garage and get ready for the big day on the 4th June, Triumph-day. No more watching U-Tube Bonnevilles, reading Bonneville blogs and scrutinising the Haynes Bonneville manual. From Friday my Bonneville will be for riding not studying. Reading the glazed stare on some people when they hear about my antics, tells me I'm so glad I broke loose six years ago from the shackles of regular paid employment. I used to think my design free thinking mind was great, but then it became a heavy weight when bosses realised that the notions were good and do-able. But it was alway me that had to do it, as well as the normal workload until the strain broke my camel's back. Eventually my ideas stayed put in my head and I trained my mouth to deny all knowledge thus keeping in the background with the logical world. Lateral and radical ideas are what changes directions, logical ideas are built upon new notions and repeated.
Now I'm 61, not old really especially in the brain where I've let loose the old tendency to change things for new directions, Hence being King Henry VIII as a job, driving about the UK for a living, and now riding my Triumph for my research trips. Radical? Sure is. Fun? Sure is. Do I care about glazed expresions? Sure don't.

Old Man Thinker
By Henry Tudor
Sixty one years of thought, radical and lateral very little logical
Caught in trap of creator to bring the new to the existing slate
Making waves with invention, storms with change, enemies not intention
Cannot switch off brain, cannot retrain must try to contain.

Lifetime of hell, school bell, conformity, timetabled dwell
Follow the trend, live to defend the way not always forward
Create a new path, had the last laugh, disturbed the convention
Not wise to defend, others refuse and depend, stay quiet and boil.

Now free to expand, by my own hand, new ideas so grand
Only few allowed to watch close, it’s them that I chose
Now open in mind, the thoughts that I find, to savour in kind
Keep self to myself, no loss on the shelf, better in health.

Used to hate the day start, now love with my heart
Run and run all day long, a happy heart is so strong
Give all to my life, my kids, their kids and my wife
Only reigns are my own, new seeds now are sown.

The boundary of work, seldom lets out new thought
Dampened by income to pay, to live the next day
But when freedom age is reached, the boundary is breached
Run free in the air, no-one to stare, you don’t care, now play fair.

Sixties are not old, rebirth I was told, true! Now be bold.


25th May 2010.
Busy days, here's last Saturday at Ingestre Hall.
I won’t tell you the lady’s name, as website social networking and privacy do not go hand in hand. But let me tell you, this lady organised one of the best Historical banquets I have ever been to. No requirement was left dangling, all was perfect on the night and she did it all for charity. Well done SP and thank you for inviting our little troupe to Ingestre Hall, in Staffordshire. The pictures are proof of the quality and success of the planned outcome. Here’s the event website www.ingestrehall.co.uk
A new girl has emerged from this gig, my mate Cheryl who plays Katherine Howard brought along her mate to play Lady Rochford. Boy did they do it well. Just see their pictures and judge for yourselves. I hope to include these girls again, pity there’s only one pillion on the new Triumph!





5th May 2010
Yes! I've been told that my new Triumph Bonneville special anniversay edition will be ready to collect on 4th June, Yes!
I could have rode out on a T100 when I entered the showroom in February, it would have also been cheaper than the one I wanted, but I prefered to wait to get the one I actually wanted. Only 120 being available for the UK meant that the Triumph dealer in Blackburn was only going to get one for sale. I meant that the first bod with the deposit got it, and it was me.
Now I start planning trips on the Bonnie to fill the new Triumphant Entry blog section, I have made the RV ready complete with electric winch and folding ramp, I have acquired a mini HD solid state video camera and fitting for the headlight or crash helmet.
Must say I'm chuffed. Mind you most of my mates secretly think I'm mad and heading for hospital, but then I think to myself, act young be young.

No Lines In The Sky
By Henry Tudor.

No lines in the sky
No crowds in the airports
Fruit reducing in the shops
Fruit rotting in the export ports
British stranded in foreign parts
Foreign visitors stranded here in Britain
Ticklish throat, dry cough, itchy eyes
Purple dusk, orange dawn
Grey soft rain, colouring all cars and grass
Airline layoffs, operator losses, supplier downturn
Less pollution in the air, but more on the land
Dark snow in the north, ice flows melting
No-one to blame, nobody in the know
What’s caused all this chaos, an Icelandic Volcano.

9th April 2010.



It has always been a mystery to me how expensive houses are in Silverdale and Arnside on the border between Lancashire and Cumbria. Okay the sea is there and the river has a spring tide bore, then there’s the view of the distant mountains of Cumbria and the box-like outline of nuclear reactors at Heysham. Parking is congested, roads are narrow and always blocked by parked cars, the buildings are generally grey thanks to Cumbrian rules of fitting in with the character of the area. But remember that this beach is the most dangerous in Britain with soft sinking sands, massive tides and deadly pools of seemingly paddling-able sea water. Now add hundreds of green static caravans up into the forest sided hills which adds to the congestion of visitors. So why is this area so expensive, so popular? Well it is close to towns, motorways and quaint. That’s about it, or so I thought. Buy a house here for twice the inland average and expect little for your money, no place to park your car and continuous traffic jams. Walk close to the wall over the rough stony waterfront at low tide and wear willies or the moss topped mud will leave imprints throughout your house, take a scarf or the high winds will take your perm off, look at the trees leaning over after years of constant pushing from gales across Morecambe Bay.
Wait a minute, there is a reason why this place is popular. It is beautiful and self contained. The traffic is a symptom not a cause, the high house prices are because there are few of them and seldom do they come on the market, space is not an issue to the background view of most dwellings. When this place was born the motorcar was still unheard of, so parking was not an issue. Silverdale and Arnside are great examples of past living in the present and the people who can afford to move and live there are escaping the present for a time when space, quality and small was good.

I wish I could afford to live there.

These two villages have become a point of focus for trips out, bikers, hikers, fishermen and strollers all love to visit leaving happier, back to their own worlds. The lucky locals must sigh with relief when their much loved villages become theirs again, no crowds, no parking problems and no traffic jams.
Here are some views of both Silverdale and Arnside on the busy Friday at the end of the Easter period. Visitors trying to wring the most out of their vacation without travelling huge distances. See the yellow Caterham 7 with the umbrella for a parking roof, just exactly what this coastline is all about.



4th April 2010.
Easter Sunday and the whole family invade the Henry household, so a family trip out is a convoy of cars and very costly to the grandfather, that’s me of course. Where to go without a traffic jam is a problem often used to get out of the whole affair in the past, but this year is different. The two year old family members can now speak and they wanted to have a say in where they spend their day. If they have to endure being strapped in a tight fitting child seat, so they decided that they want to visit something spectacular. So after asking each one separately where would they like to go, I was taken aback somewhat to find out they had colluded together and had come up with the same impossible theme. “Want to go and visit Thomas the Tank Engine”. Hmm, exit stage left.
Wait! Thanks to the internet I found there indeed was a real Thomas the Tank Engine touring various private railway lines and Thomas and His Friends were in Skipton near Bolton Abbey. Only 50 miles of “are we there yet” was replaced eventually with two snoring children who woke up to find Thomas sitting in the sidings right in front of them. Granddad had done it yet again.



The return journey was all about Thomas, the carriage we travelled in, the fat controller, Percy, and even Diesel 10. It takes another suffering parent or grand parent to understand these names and their hold on the attention of the young viewer. But I fully recommend visiting this show, mind you at first the £10 for each person felt hard to swallow but it soon felt worth it to see the smiles and the obvious belief in the faces of the young kids. I great day out so Thanks Thomas and your friends.
I’m still humming the theme tune in my head at this moment. Rats.

28th March 2010.
Nearly six years ago after my first ever gig, I was interviewed and photographed by the Northern Newspaper, the Bolton Evening News. This was the first of over 300 articles since that glorious day and King Henry has been in most county's local papers after visiting one or more of their schools. Now I'm back in the first paper, now called The Bolton News and they have retaken the picture and updated the story.


Thanks Bolton News, you helped me in the beginning.

25th March 2010.
I worked in a great school on Tuesday this week, Settle Primary School in the West Riding of Yorkshire. I had forgotten how beautiful this town is, having last been there over 10 years ago, with its valley and the famous railway to Carlisle. I really must try to come again on my Triumph for a great ride.
Anyhow, here is a poem for the school and the children who made the day so successful.

Settle dawn
By Henry Tudor

I have in much way cleared the field
Of traffic noise and cluttered yield.
At six o’clock the mist is low
The grass is grey the sunlight grow.
Red horizon will welcome me
To town in Yorkshire, traffic free.
The railway line to Cumbrian steam
Takes lovers of hills to capture dream.
But wait, the town itself has much to say
Settle the valley, Giggleswick way.
I met these folk from hillside town
Their welcome warm, they smile, no frown.
They made me laugh with natural ease
They became my court, the King to please.
No need a plan, which would insight
These young Tudors gave free, all their might.
The day now done and to wander home
The mist now gone, the traffic now grown,
Goodbye to Settle, goodbye to folk
Goodbye to valley clear of smoke.
Goodbye young Tudors with hearts of gold
A great day out, a memory bold.

www.settle-pri.n-yorks.sch.uk/

How can a 7 year old have such artistic talent?

"It is the policy of this website not to publish children's names."
So thanks to the young artist of Settle Primary School, you know who you are!
HenryR

9th March 2010. A poem in my head.
I can write poetry when in the mood, always need a focal point and the word just appear. But, sometimes a poem is in my head when I wake in the morning, not a specific project but usually based on something I've done in the past. Now it has been 4 months since visiting Acala de Heneres in Spain to research Katherine of Aragon and I thought the section was complete. But then in a dream I realised the old saying of a baby being brought by stork could have originated there. The old palace was built on the border-creating river Heneres to make the new Royal family monarchs of all Spain. The river was the nesting place of the storks and was cleared for building, though the storks returned and built new nesting on the roofline. The Royal family used this fact as being accepted by nature to reassure their people of the bright future ahead. Catalina de Aragan was born under the stork's nesting.
This is the poem.
Storks
By Henry Tudor
Shoo away invaders, back to their place of birth
Bring back the land to common rule
Show the world our strength and worth.

Two nations join, become one whole power
Create a Spain from seeds of hope
Keep watered with love, to flower.

Build our new Palace, place near old River fork
Form Royal Spanish family
Over old nests of River Stork.

Clear place to build, shoo storks away
A town is born with Palace, Church and people
But Storks return and nest again,
Still there they are today.

The River ran down the line of roof and tower’s grand
The nests were built upon the roofs
So many, so large, so far past hand.

Many know the storks defend, their right to live above
To the King and Queen of Spanish main
Became their power of love.

Alcala de Heneres, a Palace on river state
A Princess born in Royal nest
To England’s bride her fate.

The storks delivered our Royal bride, to us she shone alone
One Royal Prince her husband
But soon death took him to stone.

Her bravery gave her the courage to wait, for England to decide
Should she return to nest in Spain
Or obey her parents pride.

The wait was long, but soon it came an end was soon in sight
She fell in love with second King’s son
And married when all was right.

She left her nest on Spanish plains, by land and sea to north
She built a new life for herself
A new family, a new nest of Royal Storks.

3rd March 2010. Out on the Razz.

The last time I sat in the Opera House in Manchester was to watch The Phantom of the Opera and the Chandelier flew right over my head scaring me witless.
So, second row back in the middle of the row is a great place for Phantom, but is very hot due to packed audiences and your neck is painful after the show as you are looking upwards all the time. Now last night I sat in the very same seat at the Opera House to watch Desperado's live show of their tribute tour of the Eagles. Tuesday night in March in Manchester, to see a tribute band will not and did not fill the auditorium. In fact the theatre was only one third full, but what a great show! Boy did the empty seats rattle with the sound from this band of mixed aged rockers. From a 60 year old to a twenty something musician, the Desperado's were brilliant, if only they could get the type of advertising that would have filled the seats the audience were captivated, feet were tapping to the rhythm, heads were nodding in musical approval and vocals were being mouthed by all.
The auditorium was very cold, lack of bodies I suppose or not enough to afford to turn on the heating, we shivered the band shivered and even the ice-cream seller shivered as he tried his best to sell cold snacks.
Hotel California, my favorite ever song, with its wonderful electric statements came perfectly at the end of the first half and the small audience wandered up the stairs to the toilets humming the tune. The toilets were the warmest place in the theatre so a queue formed.
Go see this fabulous group, find their next gig, take my word for it you will not be disappointed, have a meal before you go and enjoy the evening as my wife and I did. Here is the band's website.
www.desperadolive.co.uk
The lead guitarist is the best I have ever seen or heard.

Now the meal beforehand.
We did not pick the restaurant from any recommendation, nor from past experience. We simply picked it from the fact that it is only 5 minutes casual walk from the Opera House. The Olive Press is a small chain of restaurants by the famous Heathcote’s, one being near Preston and the centre of the chain, Heathcote Manor being close to my home. So our booking was expected to be good and expensive. We were the only customer's in the dining room as it was only 5.30pm, interestingly no reduction for theatre goers who give restaurants early business. The service was excellent, a personal waiter with a great sense of presence and cheer came over to us after a regal 5 minute comfort time. The menu seen on the website was given in real format to us and we chose carefully with cost in our minds as this was a treat from our daughters who are usually broke and must have saved up for this evening. We were determined not to spend over their gift limit as this would cheapen their value and spoil the effect. So with a budget of £50 for two people to get a meal, a drink and a coffee in Heathcote’s in Manchester centre, was quite a challenge or so we thought.
Not so, we had plenty of choices with only the dearer steak’s out of the equation, we chose just what we wanted and drank a glass of wine each finishing with a coffee. I never eat a sweet as it spoils the taste buds for me, though we could have afforded one for my wife who by that time was quite full and not in need of sugar. The bill came to £45 and so we left with the waiter smiling from his £5 tip, or my wife’s pudding.
Here is the restaurant website.
www.heathcotes.co.uk

In our view the restaurant was excellent for service, food and atmosphere, it catered well for value and offered a spread of food which should satisfy most pockets. A pre-theatre offer would fill this restaurant early and it should become a real starter for a night out with culture in mind, or Rock and Roll.


2nd March 2010.
Oh come on! The old quip about English weather came true yesterday.
1st March 2010, 06.15am I set off for St. Anne’s on Sea a mere 28 miles away, it was foggy and cold with ice patches from an overnight frost. After setting up the Tudor workshop in the school the sun had come out to give us a lovely spring day, then by 11.30am it was raining. Sleet followed by 12.15pm and I actually walked through a blizzard of snow to the infant school next door. Walking back to the Junior school it was a rain storm again. Now at the end of their day I met their parents in the playground with a glaring sunshine and overheated in the costume during a photo-shoot. Driving home in the rain at 17.00pm I encountered the fog again!
We in the North of England had a whole year’s weather in one day.

We do not have weather, we have a climate!


24th February 2010.
Am in the middle of writing a new Pantomime for the next Panto season.
"Kinderella" based upon the hilarious goings on with the choosing of Henry's 4th wife.


Any theatre group out there interested? Please email me directly
HenryTudor@Blueyonder.co.uk
Here is a synopsis file.
Click here to download this file

11th February 2010.
Walsall and Bromsgove in the Midlands have been my focus early this week with two totally different but lovely schools. Little Bloxwich near Walsall produced a small primary school full of energetic people who made the workshop a treat to deliver. Ah ! But there is always a pea under the mattress, the satnav took me on a wondrous trip back to the M6, instead of the obvious way which the road signs were pointing, I decided to follow the instructions of the Lady in the box on the dashboard. Wrong, this took me 5 miles further North to the M54 then down the motorway to a solid traffic jam on the M6 south. Trying to get to the services on the M5 to spend the night before moving on to Bromsgrove took me over an hour to travel to gap of 23 miles. The services were cold and deserted, not much in the way of a good warm hot meal I ended up trying to enjoy a burger which was FRANKLY poor fodder. (A clue to the name of the services is here somewhere.
Next day, next school. A large well booked up private school which boasts a great prep school, the houses nearby look like they are occupied by the people who moved there for the school educational prospect of their children, well endowed. It is a great school, but then so was the school the day before and I must say despite what the press say or government opposition pundits, our schools are delivering the goods. Dedicated staff, interested parents and enthusiastic children all make our schools what they are, no matter who pays.
Environmental considerations however to make a difference, high crime areas, noisy backgrounds, fast furious living will change the nature of the system, may I say negatively. A calm environment, pace to give time to think, place to have that peace, will effect it positively.
Just my view after 620 schools in nearly 6 years.
So these two schools fro different sectors were both wonderful, thanks to the common factors of calm, collected, planned and delivered, enthusiasm rewarded and most of all teamwork.

This is the trouble with being a retired teacher, cannot stop mentally interfering.


4th February 2010.
I found an oasis of learning this early this week on the outskirts of London. Right next to Heathrow Airport, the M25 and the beginning of the M40 where traffic is measured by density and normal streets are 2/3 lanes per side. The background buzz of aircraft every 30 seconds, the sound of diesels passing and emergency service sirens on a frequent time-frame sets the scene. But we are now talking about a Village type school behind the railings, staffed by a multi-national company of dedicated teachers with an eager audience of children all buzzing like their surroundings.
It was most refreshing to see such harmony. These 120 children who became my court for two days were outstanding in their enthusiasm, they never gave up with any difficulties and produced some of the best work I have ever seen in the 600 school’s I have visited over the past 5 years.
I was actually sad to finish the booking.

One girl actually approached me with this statement.
“Henry, I went with my parents to Hampton Court last November and saw another King Henry VIII.”

At this stage I was waiting for an “are you a fake?” type response.
But then she said “Why do you allow actors to impersonate you?”

Quick as a flash I answered “I have to leave someone behind for the tourists when I visit schools.”

She slowly nodded and walked away, the teacher next to me was bursting to laugh.

The Oasis
By Henry Tudor

Frequent aircraft flying overhead
Landing on their tarmac bed.
Articulated diesels rumbling past
Commuters rushing, don’t be last.

Vibrating streets newcomers feel
Residents accept this, this as real.
City life is furious and fast
Live this way your mind is cast.

This place of peace where life is safe
Where seldom hurt and strife replace.
Where teach and taught go hand in hand
An Oasis in a busy land.

A school is not mere bricks and glass
Children and staff are not mere class.
They work together to find a way
To live, to work, to love to play.

The people make this place so true
An Oasis, the future new.
Here in London’s heart of gold
A school sits there, my story told.



27th January 2010.
Am in the middle of a tour of Somerset, Hampshire, Warwickshire and Lancashire this week. 600 miles and many hours behind the wheel of quite a dirty RV thanks to the weather. Many hours of driving cause swelling of feet and tight shoes which can be very uncomfortable. Now my solution is to wear the King Henry VIII shoes I had made in France last year. Clog-looking leather shoes with hand carved royal patterning really does not suit wearing modern weather proof tops alongside. So when you leave the vehicle to go to the motorway services it is a good idea to change into modern shoes and blend into the background. Ah! This I forgot. So marching, King-style into the Gents in my clattering clogs attracted the attention of a group of Polish lorry drivers who thought I was one of their yocal (a pun) countrymen and began talking to me rapidly about my clogs.
Explaining that being a lazy Englishman, I could not speak another language, they were satisfied to go away believing that people up north still wear clogs, sorry folks! I worked with some fabulous classes this week so far and am looking forward to Warwick and Wigan later on.

23rd January 2010.
Okay. I know I said I would never part with the trusty Vespa, I know I had a special paintwork done to it with the Union Jack on each side panel, I know I keep on saying I love that machine it’s part of my life.
Things happen.
I’ve ordered a brand new Triumph Bonneville 60, from the factory because they are producing a very special model, only 120 to be made for the whole of the UK, a classic before it’s made!
I think I needed a boost of energy in the form of a new project and so the Vespa is up for grabs.
I know some of my mates will think I’ve flipped and will be destined to become a donor in the medical world, but they are wrong.
In order to see life from a new perspective maybe you do have to flip it over and the new bike is for touring and I will never take the machine over speed limits with about 60 mph being my fear limit.
April 2010 the machine is to be delivered, brass plague numbered and certificated as a genuine limited edition model. Grey and Blue livery with piped leather and chromed engine with wire wheels, I cannot wait.


Thanks to Triumph Motorcycles for the picutre.

Anybody out there want to buy the King’s Vespa PX200 with Union Jack panels apply within.


19th January 2010.
Was worried last week about the weather up in Durham, two schools and 120 miles away, the forecast was bleak and the thought of being stuck in the RV was cleary in my mind.
I drove up overnight with no problems at all, not a flake of snow, found Durham services for a two hour rest then set off at 06.30am for a school in Peterlee. Now the satnav began to falter, the signal dissapeared for a while, the roads on the screen dissapeared for a while, so I followed the obvious bus route for the town. This reasoning was good, bus routes are salted. BUT, I got stuck on an icing hill BEHIND a stuck bus. Now with two articulated lorries also stuck behind me we all had to slide backwards for a mile before we could turn round.
So here's my timing for the trip
Home to Durham 123 miles in 2 hours 30 minutes
Durham to Peterlee 11 miles in 1 hours 30 minutes. AAHG!

Back down to Taunton, Somerset and Southampton next week hope the weather stays mild.

6th January 2010
Big question, do I venture out with a 3.5 tonne RV into snow for a 100 trip? OR not?
I have only ever missed one school workshop thanks to a bout of flu last year. The gig was re-organised and thanks to a sympathetic teacher, went down successfully. But, it dented my own pride and so I vowed never to miss a venue whatever the circumstances. You may think this a naive outlook from my point of view, but consider the children who have studied Tudors, made their classroom into Tudor experiences and researched questions for the visit. How could I ever let them down, well I cannot. And I will not. Only if the school closes for safety, or if the police close the motorways, or I get stuck in a frozen queue. These are the only three reasons to stop me coming.
Now the thought of being stuck in a frozen queue enters my mind, he he. Just think about it, I am stuck in a centrally heated, food stocked, luxury mobile hotel with internet and tv. Maybe I will have stranded car drivers queuing up for warmth at the RV door, they will be welcomed in of course, but I’m having the double bed at the rear.


5th January 2010.
Happy New year!
How many out there secretly wish they would be snowed in, unable to go to work and must stay in front of the fire and drink hot tea whilst watching a movie? Using the snow as an excuse to lengthen the weekend. Well I’m snowed in and I hate it, the RV is loaded, the stock room full, the calendar ready to explore and here I am watching the RV get fatter with snow. The school’s are closed, the roads are closed, the airports are closed, the paths too slippery to walk on and so this is what real isolation feels like.
Because I work away a lot from the family home, the RV has become my second home, I feel very “at ease” when staying in it. For it to be stranded on my drive is the worse feeling ever. Gone is the potential freedom of the road, travel anywhere at any time now impossible. I’m gutted, I’ve lost my little world and my Tardis is grounded.

Anyhow, goodbye 2009, hello 2010. Let us all hope this new year brings new prosperity to our country without greedy managers.

Assuming the snow melts and I can get out of here, January looks impressive with many miles to travel. Birmingham, Durham, Peterlee, Blackburn, Doncaster, Taunton and Southampton as well as half a dozen local gigs. Looks busy, just how I like it.

Now I am planning one of my research excursions into the unknown territory of Margaret Beaufort. Many writers have documented her life as the puppeteer in the Tudor clan, but not much can be found about how she survived a childhood only to be married off at the age of 8yrs. Survive three husbands and manipulate the two rose warring factions into a successful takeover of the English throne. This woman was scary and needs explaining. So whilst the snow keeps me in I will dive into books and websites, then find a route for a trip to get the feel and the pictures of her story.




17th December 2009.
Hi! Leigh Central Primary School. Here's a Christmas picture from Madrid.


Christmas in Madrid

I have been working in Alcala de Henares which as you know was the birthplace of Queen Katherine of Aragon. Go see the new section added today, great pictures.


Statue of Katherine of Aragon

Now don't go thinking I was having a great time, it was work, honest!
Very sunny but very cold, 2,000 feet above sea level, a plateau with a river running through the city edges down to Madrid about 20 miles away. There were white storks nesting on the roof of the Palace.



16th December 2009.
I have been trying to locate Quince Jelly now for 5 years with no success. So last Sunday when I was strolling around the square in Katherine in Aragon’s birthplace, Alcala de Heneres and finding a shop which sells packs of the jelly I was nearly overcome with joy. So I bought two.
Being a straight person who never breaks the law, I never considered hiding the two packs in my suitcase for the trial of passing security at Madrid Airport. I put the two pack of Quince Jelly in a clear plastic bag and carried it innocently to the X-ray tunnel and put it in a plastic tray. WRONG! The X-ray machine thought the Jam was an explosive device and rejected it, my case was searched and they even made me takeoff my belt wit the metal buckle. After the jam was confiscated and the guard waved his finger at me like I had forgot my homework he let me through to departures.
I still haven’t got any Quince Jelly but I now know it exists, it looks like jam but can cause X-rays to burp.
Just got back to England, Spain was freezing and I hear it is now snowing in Madrid. I am now writing the new section about Katherine of Aragon, keep watching.


10th December 2009.
My mate and I explored the site of Bosworth Battlefield last weekend near Nuneaton, was expecting just a field but amazed at the fabulous visitors centre there. We received a warm welcome from the staff and many pictures were taken with Henry in their dispay areas. Lots of visitors enjoyed the exhibition and restaurant which I must say served up the best Sunday lunches I've had recently. Go see the new Bosworth section.
Am setting off for Spain in 2 hours for a research job in Aragon (someone has to do it!) Will report back when I return on 16th December.

8th November 2009.
Life is so much relaxed without Samlesbury Hall tying me down at weekends and filling up my week with poor return. Now I can write, research and give a better service to my visit clients of which I have over 200 to look after. Now I am plannig yet another visit to Aragon in the Mid Spanish Plains. Katherine of Aragon is such a deep study area my last visit only skimmed the surface. Her edcation up to leaving for England, her contacts whilst she was in England is much in my focus and where she was brought up as the Princess will dominate my research. So December 10th to 15th will bring me back to Spain, staying near Madrid and motoring to interesting locations in a Toyota Prius which is a very good car despite what Clarkson may say. Just remember he bought a car that the door would not let you inside it unless you parked it far away from another car!
Next on the list of research early next year will be off to Kendal and Mistress Parr's upbringing.

19th October 2009.
Last Monday evening I spent an hour talking to a large WI in Chester. What a great audience and me being the only bloke. I set off in the middle of the rush hour and my satnav tried to save me a couple of yards by taking me right through Warrington town centre and the traffic chaos. Managing to ignore her (satnav) demands, I found the M56 again and headed for Chester in a more logical manner. I never pass that way in the dark normally and when I passed the refinery at Runcorn I was quite shocked by its appearance. Lights and fires, looked strangely mindblowing and just as Hell would appear if you walked through the wrong gate. Here's a ditty penned in my head on the way home, again ignoring The-SHE-direction,controller-in-the-box.

Chester
By Henry Tudor

Against the stream of traffic seen
I endure a tiring scene.
To reach the place with friendly face
I will need a large parking space.
I pass the Weir of town with cheer
And soon can see the river clear.
But the devil arrived before I spied
And built his hell on river side.
Black oil comes in and fuel goes out
Fire and fumes leave their spout.
We need this place, no better space
To keep our lives, our modern face.
Have now passed this glowing cast, at last
Must now find the stage, and fast.
People waiting to see my King
To be late now, not done thing.
Ninety ladies clamber in to see old Henry’s hairy chin
He woos them with stories within a spin.
About his life and many a wife, Tudor times, Tudor strife
Cutting it down with verbal knife.
They listen and tut, they consider the plot
They laugh and giggle, with Henry’s spot.
But underneath they care not, the Times
They consider his life full of crimes.
The end comes fast, with one-man cast
Stand up Henry done at last.
Questions, questions come fast and furious
All of them now really curious.
Why did you kill, why were you cruel
500 years back, why the fool.
Whom did you care, which woman did share
Your heartfelt stare?
I left it there!



Took cheque over to Derian House, thanks ladies.

11th October 2009.
Even though I now get Sundays off, mt family has claimed me as taxi driver.
The rest of the week is even more full than ever, little did we know how much theold King is in demand especially with the new changes in the school curriculum for historical studies. More visits and much more travelling, sounds ok to me.

Note to power crazy managers: "Sometimes the quiet grazing animal sees the reflection in the cowards scope and ducks before the thrill rises".

30th September 2009.
25th September 2009.
I'm back again. Burbage village is not one that rolls off the tip of the tongue of many a history lover, yet this quiet farming village in Wiltshire was the residence of the Seymours. They still have "Wolfhall manor" though it is not the one from Henry's days. There is "Wolfhall Farm" but again just a name. What they do have is the scenery, where Henry courted Jane and this is why I went there. I found the Kings's road where they wandered, the place where the old barn once stood and became at one with the love story. Then on to the Church where John Seymour is interned, there I found the old Preaching post which Henry must have stood by at some time, I saw John Seymours tomb, their family stained glass windows and the plaque with the family crest. I also met an intriguing lady, coming out of the church. What a source of information! This lady knew where everything Seymour was and so I went in search of the well, the path in the woods the barn. Wow! Now back to work, must write the story of Jane Seymour now that I understand their personal feelings and feel their surroundings. A new section will be added as soon as this is complete with some great pictures, never seen before.
Keep an eye for this section.

King Henry VIII gets on his bike.

We all have our own ambitions which are nagging in the background of our daily grind to get by, satisfying them becomes much more focussed as you get older and you can see the end of the possibility line approaching. I have always had a burning ambition to be a published writer of poetry and plays which are performed to a paying audience, so at the age of sixty it is certainly close to the shelf life of this particular ambition.
I left teaching to become a self employed actor, portraying King Henry VIII as best as I could and buying clothes of such a quality they matched my accurate Henry-double face. Five years later I work full time as this actor but the ambition is still there. I have written over 250 poems, nobody has read them, nobody has had the chance to comment on them. I have written 5 plays, nobody has seen them and nobody has reviewed them. Now I viewed this as a dead-end and decided to break free and produce the work myself, this of course meant reducing my workload and discarding the influence of any distracting element.
The major distraction was a customer who had given me lots of work but at a very small price, kept low because they promised to help me achieve the ambitions in their Hall. It never happened, after two years of hoping they finally let me produce a play for one session. The play was called “No Conscience” and it was a complete sell out with a standing ovation at the end. Now I was happy again, the Hall offered to let me have a play every month and I thought I was set up, they even took a book of poems to publish in house and sell at the door.
One month later, the book had not been read by their manager, they had forgot to publicise the play and no audience turned up. We had made special scenery, bought a dress for one of the wives, bought small trinkets and props for the children in the audience. Would you be upset? Would you be fuming? Me too.
With an empty audience and nobody to play to, we took down the scenery, the props and the clothing was boxed, we left the Hall and will not return. Now I am back two years in the race to succeed in achieving my ambitions and the end is nearer than it should have been. Not an easy decision to make but I am a strong personality and I don’t ever give up, so I will begin again. This time I will not have a customer with too many bookings who believes they own me, I will not rely on another life changing promise and will publish myself, I will hire my own theatre space and sell my own tickets. Never again will I be walked on, now the carpet is under my feet and it feels much more comfortable.
If you want to book King Henry VIII for a function, a play, a school visit, a photographic session, a video, a book cover or a talk to a historical group then contact him directly on HenryTudor@Blueyonder.co.uk or by phone on 01257270913 or by visiting his website www.HenryTudor.co.uk
I will succeed.
Henry Tudor
The Henry Tudor Drama Company

24th September 2009.
Have been away again, three days in Cheshire with a new school and great Children.
14th September 2009.
I know I said recently that I would never sell my beloved blue Vespa, but that was before I saw the new Piaggio MP3 Hybrid. You go and see it.
www.uk.piaggio.com/en_UK/news/piaggio_mp3_hybrid.aspx
A three wheeled machine with parallelogram type front wheels, looks great. Now add 141 mpg and electric/petrol power giving 0 to 60 in 5 seconds and this is a great scooter worthy of notice amongst all the plastic buzzers out there.
I have enquired about the new trike which in my nature is a major step towards jumping into the deep end. The other alternative is to keep the blue Vespa and have both of them, mmmmm. This would of course require major brainwashing for my wife who already looks on the Vespa as a waste of time and garage space.
Maybe hypnotism.



Now where can I get the flag painted on it?

11th September 2009.
I mourn for the world privately.

10th September 2009.
Noel has sent in the latest chapter for the making of my new costume. go see the chapter.
Am plannning a trip to Wolfhall in Wiltshire to view, and get the feel of where Jane Seymour came from. 28th September is the only available date so will report back in early October with pictures etc.
Boy did I get a great review from the Army, the gig in Edinburgh last weekend was such a success thanks to the Chef, the Musicians and the stilt walkers, and of course the MC King Henry VIII.
Back on the road on Friday next, Birmingham.

8th September 2009
Whilst in Edinburgh for a great gig with the Army I took the opportunity to scooter over to Hollyrood House Palace and investigate the murders of Rizzio and Darnley. Story to follow.
Here's a collage of the visit.