my junglistic garden this evening

I've just checked. Hertford's hotter than Bangkok tonight.

A friend of mine, who runs a timberyard not far from here, says the heatwave has caused various frightening tropical creatures to pop out of the woodwork ... literally. They're being overrun by pterodactyl-type dragonflies from the Amazon. And they've put a scary insect chart up on the office wall in case someone gets eaten by one and they have to identify it.

Meanwhile, a pal from Gran Canaria is in Hertford for a visit and finding it too hot.

Boll's responding by sleeping all day.

Plus ça change, plus c'est le même chat...

I went for a walk along the river today and was almost mauled to death by a very jolly-looking golden retriever.

'It's your hat,' said his human. 'He once had a bad experience with some people wearing hats and so hats upset him.'

'I see,' I replied, fending the dog off my throat. 'Could you maybe get him off me?'

'Just take your hat off,' said the man.

I did. And the jolly retriever wagged his tail and ran off in a jolly fashion as if nothing had happened and I hadn't almost just been killed.

There were lots of people by the river on Sunday afternoon. They were even swimming near Hertford Lock and outside the Old Barge. Here are some pix I took on a walk over Folly Bridge, down Riverside and up to the King's Meads.

the jetty near my house

a maltings (or is it an oast house?) - not sure about the terminology

a dog moors his narrowboat outside the Old Barge

Folly Island

a rabbit on King's Meads - I saw about 15 of them

a boat near King's Meads

ducks in the water, chickens on the lawn - which is the correct way round in my opinion

Here are some pix I took while pootling around Hertford at the weekend.

Christ's Hospital (aka Bluecoats) School

Hertford Hospital (now converted into flats) built in the 1830s in OTT neoclassical style

Bayley Hall, built in the 1770s

The 12th century flint walls of Hertford Castle are about 15 feet high. I noticed this afternoon that more and more plants are choosing to live in their ancient nooks and crannies.

Here are some pix I took while walking down St Andrew Street first thing on Saturday.

I walk round this corner most days and I'm always struck by its higgledypiggledyness

This is Hertford's territorial army HQ, which can be hired as a film location

The excellent Baan Thitiya Thai restaurant

My rhododendrons have finally bloomed, after just sittting around doing nothing for two years.

Bollinger and I spent an idyllic afternoon in the garden today. Boll enjoyed chasing dragonflies but thankfully (for them) didn't catch any.

one of the dragonflies

I'm very partial to a moorhen or a coot and it's good to see that the irrepressible coots of Hertford are still building nests in late spring. I spotted this one on his way past The Barge. The coot who lives on the edge of the weir has now had its baby and they've moved on.

I sent my parents off to Hertford Tescos the other day in search of some honey, but they couldn't locate it and so they asked one of the teenagers who works there.

'Honey?????' he retorted. 'What's that?'

'Bee honey,' they replied. 'Honey from bees.'

'I'm not sure what that is,' he said. 'I’ll ask my supervisor whether we stock it.'

The senior Peacocks and I spent an intriguing afternoon at the Hertford Castle medieval weekend. It was excellent and thankfully devoid of deranged bearded men addressing eachother as 'my liege'. There was a falconry display, with peregrine falcons - the fastest creatures on earth - swooping down at 50 mph. And they had apothecaries, troubadors, madrigal singers and journeymen potters.

a hurdygurdy

bagpipes, with a grotesque carving of a green man

the falconer

the final pageant, with birds of prey

an apothecary who was burning frankincense to soothe passers by

Lots of laburnums by the river this week.

This £1000 catflap, encrusted with Swarovski crystals, is one of the many posh catcessories sold by Doors4Paws based in Knebworth near Hertford. Boll has already asked for one, but I've told her they don't do extra-wide versions.

I spent Sunday afternoon at the wondrous Paradise Wildlife Park near Hertford.

a friendly humboldt penguin

a tapir

a red panda, clearly finding my attempts at photography hilarious

maras

rabbits gossiping through the fence

Thank you to Lea for informing me that the literal translation of the sign is 'understand bring not fish away' which is presumably why they need to back up the text with a huge picture of a fish burglar running off with a carp as big as a small cow.

They've just put this sign up by the river near the house. Clearly Polish and Russian people have the temerity to catch fish in order to eat them.

I love squirrels, whatever colour they are. I'm slightly pro-red, being from the north, but I'm perfectly happy to have a regular grey one in the garden.

Now it looks as if his black squirrel friends are heading in the direction of Hertford.

Black squirrels were first spotted in the UK 90 years ago, in Hitchin (not far from here) where they now outnumber greys. And they can be found nowadays in Letchworth, Cambridge and even Stevenage. This is a good thing. I'm all for squirrel diversity. And the more squirrels, the better.

Mail

Telegraph

BBC

As you may know, Boll and I have a resident garden duck which goes a bit berserk in the spring, sitting on walls and rooftops. This morning, it excelled itself and sat on a chimney. This is clearly a wondrous omen.

I'm grateful to the good people of Hertford North station for providing a pedestrian sign (with user-friendly arrows) on platform three this morning.

The sign very helpfully warned me not to walk through a pile of soil (see pic).

Instead, it offered me the option of walking round it, either to the (1) left or (2) right.

By the fish counter in Waitrose today -

Small child - Mummy. I want fishies for supper.

Mummy - Good. What sort of fishies?

Small child - Madagascan crevettes.

It's enough to make you want to defect to Asda.

The Proper Cornish Food Company have made my day.

I was walking past their Hertford shop earlier, fully expecting to be driven apoplectic yet again by the apostrophe in 'coffee's' when I was stopped in my tracks and had to do a major double-take.

The apostrophe had gone. It was a miracle.

I congratulate them on their kindness towards this threatened species and intend to buy a Proper Cornish Food Company pasty to celebrate.

Old Lady - How are you?

Elderly Gentleman - Terrible. Terrible.

Old Lady - Oh dear. What's wrong?

Elderly Gent - I'm having a terrible time of it. I can't change my ringtone.

Hertford was eerily empty today. The streets were largely devoid of adults - occupied instead by marauding yoofs throwing snowballs. I wasn't supposed to be here. I should have been in Scotland. But I cancelled because of the dreadful flying conditions. I'm hibernating at home with the Boll for the rest of the week. Here are some pix I took on a walk earlier.

Me-Tu - Celebrity Hertford Parrot

Hertford has finally made it into the national (and international) press, thanks to ... football hooliganism.

A match in Hertford Heath had to be dramatically halted this week when a pet parrot on the sideline caused chaos by randomly imitating the referee's whistle and shouting 'pretty boy' at the players.

Me-Tu - a nine-year-old Senegalese - lives in the village and regularly attends matches with his mum Irene.

I have no objection whatsoever to the Proper Cornish Food Company opening a pasty emporium in Hertford. But I do take extreme exception to the distinctly improper inconsistency of their plurals (or plural's, as they might randomly call them). Why, I repeat why, do they sell teas (correct), cream teas (correct) and baguettes (correct) but then ruin it all by selling coffee's (sic)?

Would these apostrophe-flaunting Beasts of Bodmin please note that the plural of 'coffee' is 'coffees'. It does not have an apostrophe before the 's'. Why is there an apostrophe in coffee's but not in teas or baguettes? Where's the logic in that?

Such slapdash and cavalier disregard for plurals may be all well and good in the West Country where all they do is sit around and eat scones and talk in funny accents. But this is Hertfordshire and we will have no truck with it.

the horror which affronts me every morning as I walk past

so much better without the apostrophe (thanks to Photoshop)

'When do the London trains leave?'

'On the hour and on the half an hour.'

Some interesting illustrations from Lewis Turnor's 1830 history of Hertford. As you can see, it's hardly changed - apart from the replacement of horses with cars.

note the dead cow - what an odd detail

note the huge flag on top of Shire Hall

my ideal shop assistant

The one thing you could always rely on in England was miserable, unhelpful shop assistants. It was so refreshing when you got back from the USA or some other cheerful place.

You still get the odd miserable one. The other day, I was in a shop in Hertford and a customer asked the owner how he was. The reply -

'Tired. Irritable. Fat. You?'

That's how it should be.

But American jollity is sadly on the creep and has finally reached us. I was in the bank yesterday and observed to the beaming boy behind the counter that it was empty and devoid of its usual long and winding queue.

'Ah, sir,' he replied, with a cheeky head tilt. 'Sheer, raw efficiency. That's what it is. Sheer raw efficiency.'

No. The bank was just empty. And then came the line he'd clearly been looking forward to.

'Is there anything more I can do for you today?' he asked, perkily.

Today? Today? Why? Why mention it? Surely it's always today. As far as I'm aware, it's not yesterday. It's also not tomorrow.

There was another cheerful one in the post office.

'All ready for Christmas?' she asked an old lady who'd just been queueing for half an hour and was clearly in a bad mood.

'No,' she replied. 'Twenty first class stamps please.'

'Christmas ones?'

'What's the point in that?' came the reply. 'Christmas is nearly over.'

We left the post office together and had a comforting, traditional grumble about the queue and the cold weather and the dark nights drawing in.

As the Winter Solstice approaches, it's good to know that I live relatively near to two highly topical villages - Cold Christmas and Freezy Water.

Talking of silly place names, I'm also not far from Ugley (which - yes - does boast an Ugley Women's Institute, run by a Mrs Scar) and the village of Nasty. Nasty has no WI, sadly.

a narrowboat on the River Lee in Hertford today

I've seen tents pitched in some pretty odd places, but never on a narrowboat. I can't help wondering why it's there. Has a blind camper made a terrible mistake? It all seems very wrong to me.

I'm back from the North, where it was cold but sunny. Meanwhile, Hertford was struck by icy blizzards and resembled Omsk, or perhaps Irkutsk, when I got back last night. Thankfully, Bolly was nice and warm, as my friends had kindly left the heating on.

Wiggintons, allegedly haunted, looking distinctly spooky in the autumn moonlight this evening

Yuletide began yesterday here in Hertford. Miniature Christmas trees sprouted magically from the sides of buildings. And picturesque wires appeared on Fore Street in anticipation of neon snowflakes - dangling harbingers of the jollity which will delight us all for months to come.

It would be curmudgeonly in the extreme to observe that we've still got three weeks to go till Halloween, seven weeks to go till the start of Advent and several months to go till Christmas and so I won't say a thing.

I'll just marvel at the wondrousness of it all and think happy thoughts of reindeers.

There I was, innocently paying for my Tesco Finest fish pie, when there was an outburst of screaming and customers ducked and ran for cover. Security guards appeared from nowhere and the 12-year-old scanning my stuff sighed, 'Oh not again!'

Then, on the PA system, I distinctly heard a tense announcement - 'WOULD SOMEONE FROM VEGETABLES BRING SOME WET SPINACH TO THE INSTANT PHOTO BOOTH!!!'

And then, on top of the photo booth, tucked in the corner and looking distinctly ruffled, I sighted a pigeon. It was like Hitchcock's The Birds. 'We've had quite a few today,' said the 3-year-old serving me. 'Do pigeons drink milk? I think we should tempt it with a saucer of milk.'

I ventured that it was cats rather than pigeons which liked milk and suggested to the security guard that he could gently place a shopping basket over it.

When I left, the pigeon had calmed down, a small crowd had gathered and the security guard was approaching it like a hostage negotiator.

Hertford's just too dramatic. I'm not sure I can take it.

picturesque weeds

Riviere development, looking quite nice a year on

new weir near Hertford Lock

my pet swans

The coot family who live on the weir have finally had a baby, and I'm pleased to say it's doing very well.

Dobbey and his friend Gordon

You may (or may not) recall my sighting of a man taking what appeared to be a pet reindeer for a walk in Crews Hill near Hertford. I seriously thought I'd lost it and doubted my sanity for several days until a friend said he'd also seen them out for a stroll.

Well - I've done some research now and it turns out the reindeer is definitely real and is called Dobbey.

His owner is Gordon Elliott, 65, from Enfield. Not exactly conventional reindeer country. As far as I'm aware, there aren't any Lapps or Innuits in Middlesex.

Dobbey's apparently very tame and enjoys travelling on the train and going down the pub.

I'm watching the Limpics again today and it's great news that Herts boxer Billy Joe Saunders is doing so well. He's a traveller, from a long line of bare knuckle fighters, and lives just a few miles outside Hertford.

Billy Joe Saunders is not to be confused with Billie Joe Spears, who is not a boxer.

I now have a new garden path and I'm inordinately excited by it. The old one was disgusting and full of weeds. Boll's getting used to it now, but she was a bit suspicious of it at first.

Bolly walking nervously on the new surface

Nana, looking well after her ordeal

I was just setting off for London the other afternoon with some friends when I sensed an odd, rustic burning smell near the front door. After inspecting the house, I concluded it was coming from outside and had probably wafted over from a nearby barbecue. So off we went - to a very pleasing dinner party.

But then, at 11pm, my mobile rang. It was my nextdoor neighbour.

'Ian. There's a fire. Smoke all over the garden. We're not sure where it's coming from, so we're going into your house to check. And we've called 999. Is that OK?'

I said yes and then ran around panicking.

Ten minutes later - another call.

'Don't worry. Boll's fine. It's not your house. It's your olive tree pot. We think your friends might have stubbed their cigarettes out in the soil and it must have caught fire and smouldered all afternoon. We've soaked it and put it out. The firemen were very helpful and inspected the pot to check it was out.'

When I got home, the house and garden smelled as if they'd been lightly grilled and Bollinger was wearing a slightly shocked expression. But my olive tree - Nana - seemed very philsophical and is absolutely fine.

The moral of the story - never let your friends stub their cigarettes out in your olive tree pot.

I'm always very impressed by the seasonal window displays at Hudsons Dentist's on Bull Plain. They're highly topical, quirky, perky, and - um - slightly deranged (in a good way).

me in my sombrero, attending a Spanish lesson

Muchos gracias for all the tip-offs about Spanish teachers. I've now finally found one in Hertford via hertsdirect and I'm starting lessons next week. ¡ Viva ! (whatever that means)

I'm trying to find a Spanish tutor in Hertford, but to no avail. In fact, I'm furious (¡furioso!) about the lack of one. But that might just be the paint fumes. And the hayfever. And the abominable hot weather which is wrong in England and must stop.

I did find one on the internet the other day. Penelope Herrera appeared to be real and to live in Knebworth. And she sounded like an Almodovar character. I decided this was a good reason to phone her. But when I did, I got the answerphone of a man called Donald.

I then emailed a tutor called Eduardo who seemed to think Hertford was south of London. Or perhaps he thought 'south' meant 'north'. Anyway - I gave up on him.

I tried Discover Hertford next. Nothing. I was ¡furioso! once again, so off I trotted off to the Library. 'Try Discover Hertford,' they said. 'That's what we use.'

I intend to go back and pour a large bowl of gazpacho into their laminating machine.

Meanwhile, I still can't find a Spanish tutor and am seething.

It's 30 degrees in here tonight by the way. This may explain my seethingness.

I walk across the long bridge over the weir most days and I often witness the inspiring spectacle of this group of ducklings trying to climb up the rapids. I've no idea why they do it.

The path next to the river on Folly Island (Riverside?) is looking very picturesque at the moment, thanks to the residents planting flowers on the bank. An excellent trend. Long may it continue.

Being a peacock, I just had to poke my beak in on Saturday morning to help a swan family who'd wandered onto Bull Plain (a street in the centre of Hertford).

The parents and seven cygnets didn't seem too ruffled and just sat around in the middle of the road, eventually parking on double yellow lines.

Traffic came to a standstill and a small crowd gathered as we tried to tempt them back towards the river with a trail of breadcrumbs. But that didn't work, so I decided to herd them - flapping my arms like wings.

After about ten minutes of extreme flapping, they filed across a zebra crossing back towards the river. They looked like a swan version of The Beatles on the Abbey Road album cover.

I've still no idea why they decided to go on an outing to Bull Plain, but they seemed to enjoy it, and thankfully there were no traffic wardens around.

The magpies are getting worse. My neighbours saw them swooping on little Jess the cat. They didn't hurt him, but he was apparently a bit ruffled. Thankfully, I reckon Bolly's too big to be a Magpie target.

sweet duck family in Hertford today

It's like a duck theme park in Hertford at the moment. The mallards near me have taken to sitting on rooftops like the seagulls in Hitchcock's The Birds. I bumped into a very friendly one this morning, taking her ducklings for a swim in the sun.
Hertford Ducklings - The Movie (very short so just takes a second or so to access)

I went for a stroll down the river this morning at 730 and observed sunbathing mallards, a moorhen nesting perilously close to a weir and a heron catching fish for breakfast.

I've just read Hertford – A History by Jacqueline Cooper. Very good, if a bit too exhaustive at points. It's available at the excellent Books@Hertford shop.

Here are some snippets from Hertford's history which I found interesting. I've added a few bits of extra information which I've uncovered myself.

The Venerable Bead (or Vulnerable Bede as I mistakenly called him as a child) referred to Hertford as Herutford and the Domesday Book listed the town as Heretforde Burge.

The Vulnerable Bede

The Vikings didn't ransack Hertford. That's a myth. But Sir Henry Chauncy (the famous Hertfordshire historian who lived in Lombard House on Bull Plain, now occupied by The Hertford Club) still insisted that 'the Danes assailed the town, spoiled the inhabitants and burnt their houses to the ground.'

Bircherley Green (now a shopping area with a Waitrose and Starbucks – if you're not from Hertford) was called Butcherly Green until relatively recently and was a notorious slum (a 'low and grimy quarter', a 'foul labyrinth of pestilential filth, squalor and misery') inhabited by paupers. It was originally called La Bocherye. The area's 18th century tenements also had picturesque names such as Angel Barn Yard, Poets' Corner and Paradise Court.

Bircherley Green - before the Waitrose Era

Bengeo used to be called Belingehov and once boasted five slaves. St Leonard's (the Norman village church in Bengeo) had a famous anchorite – a recluse who guarded the altar and lived in a tiny cell which was actually in the church itself. The church font was used as a plant pot in a local garden for many years.

In 1241, there was a jousting event on the King's Meads (the meadows between Hertford and Ware) which got out of hand, leading to the violent death of the Earl of Pembroke.

When King John of France was 'imprisoned' in the castle, he had 70 attendants, a troupe of minstrels and a personal portrait painter with him.

The famous dramatist John Lydgate premiered his new play Lydgate's Disguising at Hertford Castle, in front of King Henry VI who lived there. It was a mimed comedy drama (mummers' play) and featured 'rude upplandisshe people compleyning on hir wyves with the boystous aunswere of hir wyves' (common rustic peasants nagging their wives, followed by their wives' colourful replies).

Elizabeth I was very fond of Hertford and its many 'maskings, sports and mummeries'. In 1561, she had an extravagant 16 day holiday in the castle and spent £1,975 – the equivalent of millions nowadays.

Parliament didn't meet in Hertford during the plague. That's an urban myth. But the Privy Council and Law Courts did decamp here from London.

There were lots of witch trials in town. Spinsters were regularly hanged for their wicked bewitching activities. In 1598, a Hertford spinster allegedly bewitched seven of Ralph Willobye's pigs. Meanwhile, Hertford pensioners had to wear red badges with HP on them. Widow Ulph refused to wear a badge and was told off.

witches being hanged - not in Hertford but in Chelmsford (having been there, I think they might have missed one or two)

The alcoholic drink Stout was named after prominent Hertford Quaker Henry Stout. Hertford boasted a huge number of inns with odd names, such as The Glove and Dolphin and The Cold Bath (which had a theatre, as did The Green Dragon).

The founder of Methodism John Wesley visited the town several times during one of its occasional sloughs of despond and called it 'poor desolate Hertford'. In 1768, he described the people of Hertford as 'dull creatures' – 'a more stupid and senseless mob I have never seen'.

John 'Laugh a Minute' Wesley

The controversial economist Thomas Malthus taught in Hertford. The chattering classes attacked his theories. In their view – the theories suggested that there was no point in helping the poor - the poor would always be poor and prone disaster and early death, usefully keeping the population in check.

First World War poet Julian Grenfell lived on the Panshanger Estate. He was a controversial figure. ' I adore war,' he wrote in the autumn of 1914. 'It is like a big picnic but without the objectivelessness of a picnic. I have never been more well or more happy.' He was killed a few months later.

July 1914 - Mr and Mrs Almeric Paget's Garden Party at Panshanger

The renowned orientalist Francis Johnson lived and taught in Hertford. He learnt Arabic directly from an Arab when he was touring Italy with his friend Charles Barry (architect of the Houses of Parliament). He was an expert in sanskrit and translated the Mahabbarata among other things. His Persian Dictionary is a classic scholarly work.

In 1944, Montgomery and Eisenhower were spotted arriving at Hertford North station. They were visiting Brickendonbury – known during World War 2 as Station XVII. Notorious spies Burgess and Philby were both based there. Station XVII was used by the 'Special Operations Executive - European Theatre of War' to train secret agents in the art of sabotage.

Hertford has 354 listed buildings – more than any other town in Hertfordshire.

At the turn of the 19th/20th centuries, local shop owner W Graveson wrote 'A Dream of Hertford in the 21st Century' – predicting that Hertford would become a rich and leafy utopia. How very accurate of him.

from Hertford - a History
Christ's Hospital pupils wearing their distinctive blue coats

It was hot today. Tonight, they're predicting ice. Tomorrow - rain. At the weekend, we had random bursts of sunshine, hailstones and thunder. And - as if you need further proof that the weather's gone apocalyptic - this is a photo I took last week from my bedroom window.

It's good to see lots of yellow wagtails in Hertford this year. They're very sweet.

which is which?

According to the Mercury, a 'cannabis factory' (note their inverted commas) has been discovered in Hertford. What next? A crack house in Cuffley?

Anyway - just to put the record straight - the things in my garden are not marijuana plants. This is an evil rumour started by my friend H.

They are in fact baby horse chestnut trees which I've grown from conkers. And as far as I'm aware, you can't get stoned on chestnuts. They do look a bit similar though. Perhaps I should give them ID cards.

the rooftop duck, photographed earlier

I sighted the first duck of spring this morning. Last year, spring was heralded by a duck taking up residence on my garden wall. This year, the duck (it looks like the same one - very similar facial expression) spent the morning on the ridge of my neighbour's roof.

watch exciting action shot of the duck

This is the olive tree yesterday. On Friday, Boll and I were sunbathing next to it. I was just wearing a t-shirt. Boll wasn't wearing anything.

Et in Arcadia ego

The frail fir tree urchin (which Boll and I rescued from the mean streets of Hertford in February) sadly passed away to the Great Pine Forest in the Sky this afternoon.

Ashes to ashes, cones to cones. When I was a sapling, I spake as a sapling. But when I became a tree, I put away sapling things.

We buried the tragic tree in a bosky wheelie bin (a garden waste recycling one). Then we scattered its needles in the pot where it had been happy - in its own understated treeish way.

I'm pleased to announce that plans to convert Hertford Castle into a hotel and bar were ditched yesterday, April 1st, at noon.

I only managed to fool one friend yesterday, telling him that I'd seen two very unlikely acquaintances in London, walking around as a couple. The two people in question don't know eachother. The only connection between them is that one, in our view, is shaped rather like a duck and the other has the appearance and mannerisms of a budgie.

He was totally taken in. My theory is that he seriously wanted to believe it.

I always want to believe bizarre stories, which has caused me a few problems with my reporter hat on. I was once hoaxed by a very convincing chap claiming to be an insurance broker offering a policy for abduction by aliens. He even provided me with a client who claimed he'd been abducted and probed by tentacled creatures from outer space.

The subsequent report went out on Radio 4. My fault. I should have checked with at least three other sources, but I didn't. Anyway – that was long ago and far away and I like to think I'm older and wiser now (aka horribly sceptical).

The wonderful Wikipedia is dangerously prone to hoaxes and – as you may have read – its entry on the veteran BBC theme composer Ronnie Hazlehurst fooled the broadsheets and the BBC itself.

According to Wikipedia's biography, he'd come out of retirement to write S Club 7's hit song Reach! He hadn't. It was just an irresistable idea, and ended up in all of his obituaries.

My favourite musical urban myth is that Bob 'Blockbusters' Holness played the sax solo on Gerry Rafferty's Baker Street. I sooooo wanted to believe that, because it somehow proved that life was interesting and unpredictable. But it was about as true as a court statement by Paul Burrell.

Another story I just read this morning seemed too good to be false (so to speak).

Einstein's chauffeur, who resembled him quite closely, once convinced the great scientist to let him give one of his lectures on the theory of relativity, with Einstein sitting in the audience. The chauffeur read the lecture very convincingly, having seen it delivered many times. But he was almost caught out in the Q&A when one of the professors in the audience posed a ridiculously complex mathematical problem. Thinking quickly, the chauffeur retorted, 'The answer to your question is simple. In fact it's so easy I'm going to ask my chauffeur, who's in the audience, to come and answer it for you.'

It's so brilliant, you just have to believe it. It's related as a true story by numerous websites, including the BBC's H2G2. And it's even been quoted as gospel in church sermons.

I've heard urban myths myself, quoted as truth in sermons. Last year, I heard a vicar tell the story of a Midwest Christian college, which boasted a sign declaring 'Ten miles from the nearest sin'. Urban myth. He claimed a friend of his had seen it. I'm sure Richard Dawkins would find that interesting.

But some absurd April 1 stories actually turn out to be true. A classic one is the Blue Peacock. Blue Peacock was the real code name for a proposed chicken-powered nuclear bomb at the height of the Cold War. The document suggesting this was declassifed, by an unfortunate coincidence, on April 1 2004, and many people thought it was a spoof.

The same thing happens on Peacockshock. I'm frequently asked whether the stranger stories on here (notably the recent hamster clampdown in Vietnam) are true. They are. Truth is often stranger than fiction, as quantum theory is now seemingly proving.

Good news about the castle anyway. It wouldn't have suited all that neon.

artist's impression

I'm sure I'm not alone in feeling angry that Wetherspoon PLC has put in a bid to convert Hertford Castle into a country house hotel - provisionally called The Knight's Folly.

And I'm not impressed by rumours that the council are planning to sell the property and invest the cash.

Wetherspoons have apparently offered to landscape the grounds, adding statues of the Knights Templar who allegedly lived in Hertford. But they've denied plans to link the hotel to the Six Templars bar via an underground tunnel with a medieval theme.

I for one will be signing the petition against this proposal, which will surely destroy the character of the castle and its grounds.

Thursday is the new Friday here in Hertford.

For a few months, I've noticed that the queues outside The Stonehouse are just as long (and noisy) on Thursday nights, and the town centre has a Fridayish feel.

Then today (Thursday), a Tescos assistant wished me a nice weekend.

I was so shocked, I started to think I'd forgotten what day it was. So I rushed into Hertford Pets to check. They convinced me it was still Thursday and calmed me down.

What next? Will Wednesday become the new Thursday? And what if Sunday becomes the new Monday? Aren't we getting into dangerous territory?

This must stop.

an Emo

Some Emos have started using Cannons gym. There were five yesterday. I've got nothing against them. But surely gyms aren't Emoish places. Emos are supposed to be pale, thin and miserable with dangly limbs and droopy demeanours. I'm worried they'll be rejected by the other Emos in their herd if they start looking like Mens Health cover models.

Which one is which?

I was at Peacock Towers over the weekend visiting my parents, and we were talking about the (alleged) ghost who (allegedly) haunts the end of the driveway - a man in a top hat.

He was first sighted at about 4am by their very down-to-earth milkman, who was completely freaked out and thought the spectral figure was an undertaker. He apparently sped to the end of the road in his milkfloat and turned round to find no-one there. He was so scared, he made a point of calling the next day to ask what was going on.

Mum's convinced it has something to do with the rockery, which contains stones from the old village church.

Anyway - I got back to Hertford last night and stopped off in Threshers on Fore Street for a mobile phone top-up. It was dark outside. Threshers is quite dimly lit. There was only one assistant in the shop, and me. No-one else.

But, just as the assistant was topping up my card, there was an almighty clattering noise behind me. Someone shaking or strumming on the metal blinds over the window. I turned round, thinking it was strange that I hadn't noticed anyone else in the shop and wondering why they were fiddling with the shutters. But there was no-one there whatsoever.

'Oh don't worry,' said the assistant. 'It's only the ghost. We hear strange noises and bangs all the time. We just say hello to it and it goes away.'

I've heard quite a few stories about Threshers and other Fore Street shops being haunted (they're all connected by mysterious underground tunnels), but this was my first direct experience.

The assistant puts it down to 'energies'. I've no idea what it was, but it was a bit peculiar to say the least.

I've had a few spooky experiences recently. A few weeks ago, I was running a course in an oak-panelled Victorian boardroom on an old cobbled street in Cardiff Bay. During the afternoon break, I went to the loo and turned round because I could sense someone standing behind me. Being me, I was about to apologise for forgetting to lock the door. But there was no-one there.

I decided not to mention it to the nice people on the course as it's bad form to mention one's ghoulies in public and I didn't want to scare them. But then, suddenly, the person to my left shivered and said, 'I felt something really strange go right through me there.' A second later, the next person along the board table shuddered and said they'd felt exactly the same thing.

There's more on my ghostly sightings in the peacockshock shed, and more on local hauntings in the Hertford section.

some swans enjoying the nice weather yesterday

blue skies over Fore Street

The so-called 'Tragic Tree of Hertford' mysteriously disappeared earlier this morning.

Its pot remains, but there is no sign of the tree - described as 'a Norwegian Spruce of no fixed address'.

A suspicious-looking man was sighted in the area around the time of the abduction.

'He looked slightly pensive and very shifty,' said a witness. 'He was 40-something and his jumper was covered in cat hairs. He just muttered something on the lines of "OK - that's it - I'm going to rescue you and give you some plant food", then he grabbed it and scuttled off in the direction of Folly Island."

If you see this person, do not approach him. He is thought to be suffering from Acute Titchmarsh Syndrome and may be dangerous.

It started its sad odyssey in December, outside the Castle Club on Honey Lane - looking almost festive in an understated fashion. Then, in January, looking distinctly forelorn, it moved to Bull Plain near the Stonehouse. Now, in mid-February, the poor old thing is lurking like a bag lady in a doorway on Maidenhead Street. It's still alive, but not at all well, and I fear it may not make it to Christmas 2008.

A Hertford resident tries her first latte

Starbucks are now recruiting for their forthcoming outlet in Hertford. Let's hope the new branch doesn't repeat a recent controversial Starbucks innovation in the USA.

the Roaring Meg river in Stevenage

I visited the Roaring Meg Retail Park in Stevenage the other day and was overcome with curiosity about Meg and her roaring. Was she a resident of Stevenage? Why did she roar?

So I asked a tattooed passer by in a hooded top. 'Roaring Meg's the river mate,' he mumbled. 'That stream thing.' He pointed to a vague dribble disappearing into a pipe. It was quite picturesque, for Stevenage.

When I got home I investigated further.

It turns out that the original Roaring Meg was a wild and loose woman. In fact, all such women were once known as 'Megs'. A particularly notorious one was 'Long Meg of Westminster'. I don't like the sound of her.

I then discovered a Buckinghamshire rock band named after Ms Roaring. Their website claims that she 'crosses the boundary betwixt this world and the afterworld, gate-crashing parties and whipping unsuspecting souls into a riotous frenzy.' This is clearly a veiled reference to Amy Winehouse.

Roaring Meg apparently liked nothing better than straddling a cannon. Several famous cannons and guns were named after her (and her pal Big Bertha). In fact, the word 'gun' itself is derived from a woman's name - Gunhilda.

Roaring Meg is also -

a dam in New Zealand

a boat

a type of beer

a waterfall in Queensland

a make of Cider

and

a pub in Staffordshire

Hello. Happy 2008. Bollinger and I are back from the north, where it obligingly snowed. I note from a visit to my local bottle bank that the good people of Hertford have had a very jolly few weeks.

'I had terrible insommnia last night. I think it's because I brush my teeth before I go to bed and it's too much exercise for that time of night. I'm going to brush them mid-evening from now on.'

This charming wood pigeon pops into the garden most days to eat the white berries on the tree. I've no idea what type of tree it is, but I'm rather fond of it.

I wish to fulminate about a pump. The old blue water pump in Bluecoats (aka Christ's Hospital school) is a disgrace. I pass it most days en route to the gym or Tescos and it outrages me aesthetically every time. As old pumps go - it's phenomenally quaint and picturesque and could be an uplifting feature for passers by. So why - I repeat why - is it in such a decrepit state?

Here are some old photos of the Bull Inn in Hertford, which Bull Plain was probably named after. The Stonehouse of its day, it was roughly on the site of Hertford Cameras and had a resident parrot. It was hit by a German Zeppelin in 1915.

The Bull Inn on Bull Plain

Bull Inn bar staff. Note the parrot and the sign saying 'French spoken here'. Why? Were there lots of French visitors to Hertford?

I've often wondered where Folly Island in Hertford got its name from, as there's no evidence of a folly there. And now I've found out. It's a corruption of Fore Lea Island - meaning 'Fore Meadow Island' (as in Fore Street). Or it could possibly mean 'island in front of a meadow'.

In the street -
'I want a thing that goes ping on a string.'

In an opticians -
'Have you got any brothers or sisters?'
'Well, I've got a sort of sister, but she's more like a man.'

In a gym -
'She's finally coming round.'
'To your opinion, or your house?'

The latter is a rather fine example of the ancient rhetorical technique of Zeugma - not something you encounter every day in a gym changing room.

Horsechestnut trees are evil

I'm seething with the horsechestnut tree near my house. It hates me and has been bombarding my roof with conkers all night.

I have only one word to say to it, and that word is 'axe'.

I hope it gets the message.

one of the book rooms

I'm a big fan of Hertford's Gillmark Gallery which sells old maps, prints, books and postcards in various quaint and higgledypiggledy rooms. It's at 25 Parliament Square.

And it's good news that we're getting a new independent bookshop in October. Books@Hertford will be on Railway Street and will have a resident border collie.

I had lunch at Café Rouge in Hertford today. And, just as I was tucking into my salmon fishcake, I noticed a parrot at the next table. Not a Norwegian Blue, but a macaw.

It turned out that my fellow diner was called Igor. He lives in Welwyn Garden City. He's only a few months old and he can't even talk yet.

It was his first day trip to Hertford and I have to say he was extremely well-behaved and very friendly.

Apparently, scientists have found a great cosmic nothingness.

It's a big hole - devoid of normality - and they've no idea why it's there.

Good to know that Stevenage is finally on the cosmic map.

A nice, well-meant sign in a pub window on the Ware Road informs passers by that it's 'close for refarbish'.

How sad that local ruffians have chosen to vandalise it with their troglodytic marker pens, changing it to 'ClosED for refurbishMENT'.

'Have you booked?' asked the maître d' at Lussman's last night.

'No,' I replied. 'But we are very important.'

Without further ado, we were whisked to the best table in the restaurant and treated like VIPs for the rest of the evening.

No idea what possessed me to say it, but I'll certainly try it again.

Assistant on phone -

'I'm calling to say the marsupial is definitely OFF.'

I spent this afternoon on a jetty near the house, having a very pleasant picnic with Frank and Henrietta. I wore my preposterous straw hat from Thailand and we fed a passing swan and some cute and fluffy cygnets.

me, looking like a deranged hillbilly

When I first moved to Hertford, I kept seeing a man who looked like Jeremy Clarkson. When I told a friend about this, he said, 'Oh yes. That's the Jeremy Clarkson lookalike.' I've no idea who he is, but he sometimes frequents the White Horse.

Then I started seeing a Jack Nicholson lookalike. He has a bike and some Staffies and can often be seen in and near Tesco.

And then along came Orlando Bloom who works in Oddbins on Bull Plain when he's not making films.

I'm not mad. I've had these sightings verified by friends who agree with me about the uncanny resemblances. But it does slightly freak me out, and I was sore afraid the other night when I was walking past Oddbins and could see Orlando in there fiddling with some Peruvian Shiraz. At this point I happened to look round. And there, approaching each other in opposite directions, were Jeremy and Jack.

I didn't do any peacockshocking last week because my parents were here for a break.

We had some very pleasant walks along the river and went to the castle fete which was very much like a scene from Midsomer Murders.

A highlight of the day was a guided tour of the castle dungeon led by the indefatigable former mayor Peter Ruffles. Very frightening indeed. There was also a brass band, a maypole, and an extraordinary troupe of morris dancers.

Could this be the Hertford Big Cat? It was photographed by Ian Peacock on Friday evening as it casually read the Herts Mercury on his coffee table.

There are no normal birds in the garden of my new house. No chaffinches, sparrows or whatever.

The regulars are - in order of appearance - a duck, a wren, a yellowhammer and ... a bat. I actually thought the bat was the wren, until I noticed it flitted oddly and only appeared at dusk.

I'll keep you posted on further developments.

a pic I took on a nice spring day this week

A frosty Hartham Common is the setting for a moody new video by Bengeo singer-songwriter Tom Braggins. Could Tom be the new Damien Rice?

No. Kate's not been discovered running along someone's ridge tiles, though it wouldn't surprise me one bit. I'm referring to a roof near my house, on an old 17th century building, which has pleasing clumps of moss on it.

Spring arrived in Hertford today. Here's a pic I took this afternoon of the river near the house.

The February edition of Hertfordshire magazine 'Axis' celebrates Valentine's Day, with a photo of a romantic couple on the front cover.

On the back cover - a full-page advert:

'Curwens Solicitors. Divorce and Separation. When a relationship breaks down, you need an experienced and friendly lawyer...'

Hertford's on the map. Finally.

After years of explaining to people where it is ('Hertford - a nice old town 20 miles north of London ... no ... it's not Hatfield or Harlow ... yes ... it's in Hertfordshire...') BBC London have now put it on their weather map. This is a wondrous marvel.

There's a job ad in this week's Herts Mercury for an 'Insect Rearing Technician' (01992 815181 if you want to apply).

I like the idea of this. Presumably you dress the insects in the morning, make sure they brush their mandibles and wash behind their antennae, then take them off to the Montessori.

And I guess you have to teach them values. No picking on amoebas. No racist taunting of molluscs. No getting into cars with strange beetles.

I went for a walk this morning and took these pix.

My solicitor - Jade - now has a note in her diary to try for an exchange of contracts on Monday. Hurrah.

I was supposed to be moving today - into a nice little house near the river. But it's been delayed thanks to a chain involving an old lady called - unless I'm mistaken - Mrs Happenstance (did I mishear?) who has an aversion to moving before Christmas.

Peter Andre and Jordan

Oh my goodness. According to my sources, Peter Andre and Jordan are moving to Watton-at-Stone near Hertford. We already have the Beckhams. It's just getting too classy around here.

Hertford is full of geese and my house is on the goose flightpath. I like seeing them fly over. But why do they talk to each other non-stop while they're flying? What are they actually talking about?

Oops. The Hertford House has closed due to 'operational problems.' My sources tell me it was a bit chaotic at the weekend and they've sacked the manager. But it is re-opening soon. Perhaps I should stop wishing people well.

The rampant chichification of Hertford continues apace. I now live within walking distance of a multi-million-pound boutique hotel. Hertford House opened on 1 November. Just as well it wasn't 31 October. Rumour has it the building's haunted.

I've not been there yet, but it does look very good. It's run by people who've worked with Anton Edelman and Heston Blumenthal. There are 22 rooms, with rates between £85 and £125 a night. The restaurant does afternoon teas and English-style tapas among other things. And its owners are from Hertford - the people behind Elbert Wurlings - which is excellent news.

Peacockshock wishes it well.

The excellent Pocket Gods from St Albans are playing The Marquee in Hertford (Railway Street) on Thursday November 9. John Peel was a fan and they've had lots of airtime on Radio 1 and XFM. You can hear them via their website and myspace profile. Their influences include The Ramones, The Fall, The Pixies and absinthe. Their track titles include 'Devastation Duvet' and 'Ballad of the Peshwari Nan'.

Thank you to Jane for informing me that Richard Hale School in Hertford has produced four bishops (almost five). David Smith (former bishop of Bradford), John Gladwin (Guildford), John Flack (Huntingdon) and Richard Chartres (John Peel lookalike and bishop of London).

Perhaps they should be invited to bless the new pub when it opens. I may suggest this to Wetherspoons.

I note that the forthcoming JD Wetherspoons pub on Parliament Square will be called The Five Bishops and I approve of the name.

In 678, Hertford Castle, which is nearby, was the venue for the first General Synod of England. And it was attended by no less than five bishops - Bisi, Putta, Eleutherius, Winfred and Wilfred.

It would be nice if the clientele of the pub were somehow made aware of this. It would also be amusing if Wetherspoons introduced a competition to pronounce 'Eleutherius' every night at 11.30 pm.

Outside the art shop on St Andrew Street -

Sorry. We're now selling Christmas cards.

The Hertford Owl

I was walking down Fore Street at the weekend and noticed a large owl on a chimney. I watched it for a while, then had to go. It was very still, very statuesque.

It was still there on Sunday. And Monday too. Sitting in the same position. So I went into a nearby restaurant to ask about it. Perhaps it was unwell or something.

"Oh, the owl," they said. "It's a stone owl. They put it there to stop small birds perching on the roof. They're not very bright. Easily fooled."

The Hertford East train to London is usually swarming with toxic chavs who shout and wear horrid clothes.

One might think the Hertford North line would be a touch less irritating on the child front. But - no - it's increasingly awash with posh brats from Bengeo.

Tonight, there was a small boy singing at the top of his voice: "I'm going back to school! I'm going to Oundle!"

Street in Ware - early 20th century ... note the Telegraph advert (is there a sinister connection between the town and the newspaper?)

Ware, the town next to Hertford, has been declared by The Telegraph to be one of the top five towns to live in near the M25. Harpenden, where my friends and godson live, is also in the top five. Fine. But WARE??? When Hertford's not even in the Top 20? It's like voting Calais top town in France and leaving Paris off the list.

The Hertfordshire Mercury covers the story with admirable neutrality. But I'm on the verge of pouring raw sewage into the River Lea so it flows into Ware and ruffles the smug popinjays who live in this jumped-up, godforsaken shanty town.

The people of Hertford did apparently do the sewage thing once upon a time, as the two towns haven't always got on very well.

I'm not 100% sure how it started, but I've been told it originated with the Vikings, who managed to get as far south as Ware, but not as far as Hertford. Please correct me if I'm wrong. There were certainly battles between Alfred the Great and the Vikings in these parts. And the remains of Viking boats have been found in the river near Ware and Stanstead Abbotts.

Oddly, the only person I've knowingly met from Ware now works in Scandinavia - for Radio Sweden. And the inhabitants of Ware do, if you look closely, resemble Vikings and are prone to marauding and pillaging.

Then it all went a bit berserk in the times of William the Conquerer. Wills had a bailiff in Hertford, who decided to divert traffic from Ware to his own town by blocking off Ware bridge with a padlocked iron gate. Good for him. This meant that Hertford got all the toll money.

But Ware's Lord of the Manor, Saier de Quincey, later destroyed the gate (vandal) and restored Ware's toll income.

King John also got involved and banned Ware from having a Saturday market, as it was only 6½ horse-riding miles from Hertford and therefore bad for business. Quite right too.

The rivalry went on for centuries. In 1788, when Hertford won a cricket match against Ware, a local man, 'in a paroxysm of rage and vexation, went home and burnt his breeches.'

I'm not biased or anything, but I'd say that was pretty typical Ware behaviour.

I've always liked quickfire rock band The Subways so I was agreeably surprised to learn that they're from Welwyn Garden City - about five miles from Hertford. WGC isn't exactly the kickingest, grungiest, yoofiest place on earth. So its odd to think of it as the home of a band who were first aired on Radio 1 by John Peel and have played Glastonbury and Reading. Their music has also been used in Rimmel ads and on US TV show The OC.

The band's name was inspired by Welwyn Garden City too. Their lead singer said in an interview: "One of the few places where I could find refuge and peace in Welwyn Garden City was in a subway. I would haunt there in between breaks at college."

I've always felt that the subways are especially fine in Welwyn Garden City - one of WGC's most exciting features in fact. It's good to see them celebrated in this splendid way. It's an inspiration to us all.

A narrow boat on the River Lea in Hertford

Summer has arrived in Hertford. And I've discovered a secret garden - thousands of wild flowers on some derelict land near Hartham Common.

Rooks Nest

I've always been vaguely aware that EM Forster's Howards End was based on a house in Hertfordshire. But I've only just discovered that Rooks Nest (aka Rooksnest, Rooks Nest House, Rooks Nest Farm) still exists and is on the outskirts of Stevenage. I must admit I find this rather sad, as Stevenage seems to me to be the antithesis of the rustic idyll represented by the house in the novel.

After Forster, the house was occupied by Elizabeth Poston, who composed the carol 'Jesus Christ The Apple Tree'. Poston knew Forster, worked with Vaughan Williams, and was one of the founders of The Third Programme - now BBC Radio 3. She also sent codes to the Allies during the Second World War, using gramophone records which had to be played in full before the secret was revealed.

It's her centenary year and there's a new book about her time at Rooks Nest by Hertfordshire author Margaret Ashby.

The Friends of the Forster Country

Thank you to Hertfordshire Life magazine for informing us all that Wiggintons, round the corner from my house, is in fact a pub. The 'Wigginton & Son public house' appears on page 57 of the June issue. I ought to be more observant. I always thought it was a shop.

Wiggintons

Thank you to Jane from Hertford for some new info on the Tesco palm tree. Apparently, it used to be in a small garden between the chapel of Christ's Hospital School and the road. The chapel was demolished, to huge outcry, in 1987. But the tree survives.

A leaflet's just popped through the door from Herts Constabulary. It asks: 'Do you know someone who has a flash car, nice house, designer clothes and loads of bling?'

Yes - many of my friends in the media, advertising, the city and the legal profession. But the leaflet proceeds to tell me that they're earning a living from: 'dealing drugs, rogue trading, burglary, and handling stolen goods', especially if they have a 'lavish lifestyle without any visible means of income.' Obvious subtext: 'Dear member of the public. You're a pleb. So anyone you know with money must be a criminal.'

Thank you Herts Constabulary.

I found a Post-it note stuck to a house in my street today. It read:

TAKE DOWN

It had obviously been placed there by a demolition company. But the house didn't look ready for obliteration. And it had people in it. So I took the Post-it note literally, and took it, itself, down.

Perhaps I should have left it there and stuck a smaller Post-it note to it, saying 'TAKE DOWN' - ie. take the larger Post-it note down. But that might have just confused people.

'Never cut a tree down in the Winter. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The Spring will come.'
Robert H Schuller

'Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.' Dorothy Parker

Final confirmation that the River Lea is in fact a cleverly-disguised hyperspace bypass.

Arthur Dent

The Hertford Tesco palm tree appears to have had twins - two mini palms growing next to it.

According to the Herts Mercury , a UFO with green lights has been sighted hovering low over Hertford.

I once met some of the Roswell 'witnesses' and saw some footage as part of a BBC programme and it all seemed pretty convincing and genuine to me - so I remain very open-minded about UFOs and aliens.

However - could it be that the green lights are laser-related? Accompanied by a very sane friend, I saw what appeared to be green laser beams over central Hertford last year - seemingly projected upwards. But they didn't resemble UFOs (ie. independently moving objects).

As for last week's alleged UFOs - well, we are pretty near Stansted and various East Anglian airbases, and Hertford has lots of mystical and city connections - so it wouldn't surprise me if aliens were somehow attracted to the town. Who knows? If they have WiFi, perhaps they'd like to contact me somehow.

The air smells of hops today. I'll always associate Hertford with the smell of hops and the sound of geese and swifts flying overhead.

After two years telling my neighbours I'm a retired rabbit keeper, I've finally been outed as a media person in the Hertfordshire Mercury. So far, I've managed to evade autograph-hunters by wearing a false moustache and using the tradesman's entrance.

After my comments about Rivière in Hertford, thank you to François de Cordage for informing me that Waltham Abbey has a gratuitous French street name: Rue de St Lawrence. It's apparently behind the Co-op.

The local papers have been going on about 'Outrage at Café Culture Invasion'.

Well - I rather like being invaded by café culture, I'm a regular at Caffè Nero and I like to feel European sometimes.

But I'm not a happy lapin about 'Rivière' - the name they've given to those new flats near the river. Why use a French word just for the sake of it? It's sounds so nouveau riche.

What next? Place de Parlement? Rue de la Fore? Le Domain de Sele Ferme?

Breaking News: I was woken up this morning at 6am by a loud bang and a large object falling on top of me.

It was Dexter the cat, who'd decided to dive (or, as he put it, "mosh") on me from the bookshelves next to the bed.

No sign of the explosion fall-out here in Waltham Abbey, where the sky is extremely clear.

I'm over the border this weekend, pet-sitting in Waltham Abbey - looking after Dexter, Alexis and Maud the cats, Martha the rabbit and Dostoyevsky the Siberian hamster. I spent this morning with Fran and a bunch of very friendly retired greyhounds, taking them for walks in the woods near Epping Forest.

Balls Park Hertford, aka Bleak House

More literary trivia from Herts. Dickens located Bleak House in Hertfordshire. And the BBC's Bleak House was mostly filmed at Balls Park just outside Hertford.

Johnny Vegas

A photo I took of Johnny, who plays Krook in Bleak House

Thursday was a very crisp Autumn day, so I took my camera with me on my peregrinations around Hertford.

Swans on the River Lee near the house

Chauncy Court in Christ's Hospital School

A goose and duck on the river

The Tesco car park palm tree

Leaves on Folly Island

Bolly on the study windowsill

Mo and Flo having a snooze

Dear Sirs. Kindly note that that "on the seventh day, God ended his work which He had made. And He rested on the seventh day from all his work which He had made." He did not - I repeat NOT - ring a load of old bells for hours on end, inflicting an unholy din on the residents of central Hertford.

Hurrah. It's here.

Sir. If you persist in drilling into the afternoon, having deafened me, my cat and rabbits all morning, I will personally manhandle you off the premises and make it unequivocally clear to you where I would like you to shove your pneumatic drill and traffic cone.

Hertford now has a Caffè Nero, which is excellent. The coffee's very good and it's very well located for people-watching. But an odd question occurred to me this morning over my Regular Latte - Why is it called Caffè Nero? Nero was a dissolute maniac who just sat there and fiddled (well, actually played his lyre) when Rome was burning. What next? A Caligula Teashop on Fore Street. A Hitler Patisserie on Parliament Square?

The zimmerframe outside the house is now but a dim memory. When I got back home, it had gone. I wonder where it is now. I suppose I'll never know.

The mystic zimmer has moved slightly this evening.

The zimmerframe is still there, like a sort of menacing dalek.

A mysterious wheeled zimmerframe appeared outside the house on Friday night. No-one in the street knows where it came from. We also can't locate the old person who came with it. I've searched the shed and rabbit hutch. No sign. What's it doing there? Was it attracted by a mating call from my shopping trolley?

Jade Goody

Moet and I were innocently walking down Fore Street on the way to the vets for a jab, when we were assailed by a feral cackle. At first, I thought it was the dreaded Cafe Uno toilet ghost. But, when I looked round, I realised it was... Jade Goody from Big Brother, who's just opened a beauty salon called Ugly's in Hertford (featured on LIVINGtv, Mondays, 9pm, from 12th September). She apparently spent £100,000 on it and called it Ugly's as she "got called a pig for ages." At the launch, the Harlow-born reality star said "I love Hertford." I should think so too.

Times Article

Mercury Article

I went to the zoo yesterday - Paradise Wildlife Park near Hertford. It was very good.

Ring-Tailed Lemur - pic by me

Red Panda - pic by me

Baby Wallaby - pic by Frank

Hertfordshire Puddingstone

A fact to impress people with at dinner parties. Not many counties have a world-exclusive rock named after them. But Hertfordshire does.

Hertfordshire 'Puddingstone' was formed about 56 million years ago, when Hertford was in the tropics.

It's called Puddingstone because it looks a bit like a fruit pudding. And it's only found in Hertfordshire. It consists of flint pebbles from a prehistoric sea, which were later stuck together by silica.

Farmers used to say it was alive and grew in their fields. And it was thought to ward off evil forces. In Aldenham, in 1662, a witch was buried with a lump of Puddingstone on her coffin to prevent her from escaping.

The UK's First Roundabout

I'm indebted to Frank Cooke for pointing out that the first roundabout in Britain wasn't in Hertford but in nearby Letchworth. It was constructed in 1910 and described as an 'intersection for gyratory movement'.

I was in a carpark in Crews Hill this afternoon outside a petshop. It was raining.

Then I saw it. A sensible-looking sixty-something gentleman in flat cap and Barbour - a bit like Victor Meldrew - taking a large dog for a walk.

But then I took a closer look.....

It was no dog.

It was a reindeer.

I was too scared to ask him about it. But it was clearly his pet.

I wish them well.

See wall pic further down page

Here's the answer:

In "the old days" (ie. I'm not sure when), the wall was used by pupils to sharpen their pencils. It's therefore of historic interest.

This is the wall of a derelict but charming Victorian school near my house. It's a protected building because of the wall. Can you work out why? I'll reveal the answer in a few days.

Did you know that Queen Elizabeth I had a pet guinea pig and was utterly devoted to it? Well, now you do.

I've recently started to enjoy vandalism. Most days, I pootle convalescently down to the bottle banks near the river and violently fling wine bottles around, causing apocalyptic smashing noises and frightening the nearby skateboarders. I love it. Bottlebanking is the new psychotherapy. Without bottle banks, there'd be countless more middle-class nervous breakdowns, divorces and murders. Try it. You feel virtuous while mindlessly destroying poor innocent bottles like a crazed Visigoth. The secret is to target the most empty bank then fling your bottle into the least accessible orifice, guaranteeing a nice parabola and very loud crashing noise.

If you're into waste disposal trivia, go to the highly stimulating Waste Online which reveals, among other things, that the first landfill site was developed in 3000BC, the first binmen hit England in 1354 and 1977 saw the arrival of our very first bottle bank.

Happening Hertford band The Gaff (see other entries in Hertford section) release their new single Hey Weirdo on Monday 18th April. It's had loads of airplay and it's very good. They're playing The Marquee in London on Thursday 21st and Sky in Ware on Thursday 28th.

Well done to Hertford gritpop band The Gaff (first talent-spotted by Peacockshock ages ago - see Hertford section). They're getting loads of national television and radio airplay for their excellent new single Hey Weirdo, released 18th April and descwibed by Jonathon Woss as 'Gweat'. You can watch the video on their website. They write their songs with Russ Ballard, who was born in nearby Waltham. He's responsible for numerous hits, such as the anthems Since You've Been Gone and So You Win Again. He's also written for...um...Peter Andre and Blazin' Squad. But nobody's perfect. The Gaff's single is, by the way, an anti-bullying song, which is all the more reason to buy it. Their debut album's out in the summer.

This is not Sir Minto Farquhar. It's Queen Elizabeth I.

Here, in chronological order, are some of the famous people who once lived in Hertford...

John of Gaunt
(brother of The Black Prince) lived in Hertford Castle, using it as his country residence. In the late 14th century, he was arguably the most powerful man in England and effectively ruled the country. He was Chaucer's patron and featured prominently in The Book of the Duchesse. This was an elegy for his wife Blanche who died in the plague. In it, the narrator is strolling through a wood and stumbles on John of Gaunt, portayed as a mysterious, mournful man in black...

I was war of a man in blak, / That sat and had y-turned his bak / To an oke, an huge tree. / Lord,' thoghte I, `who may that be? / What ayleth him to sitten here?' /...He sayde a lay, a maner song, / Withoute note, withoute song..../ "Now that I see my lady bright, / Which I have loved with al my might, / Is fro me dedd, and is a-goon. / And thus in sorwe lefte me alone. / Allas, o deeth! what ayleth thee, / That thou noldest have taken me, / Whan that thou toke my lady swete? / That was so fayr, so fresh, so free, / So good, that men may wel y-see..."

John of Gaunt Biog

Chaucer's Book of the Duchess

King John of France
was captured by Edward The Black Prince in 1359 and 'imprisoned' in luxurious Hertford Castle. One day, the French King went to St. Leonard's Church, Bengeo, to hear a mass by the Black Monks of the Holy Trinity. Unfortunately, he left his hounds outside, where they chased and killed a pig belonging to Master Revell of Revells Hall. The King apologised profusely for the pig incident and paid Master Revell a massive ten shillings' compensation.

John 'Paperboy' Tate
was the founder of England's first paper mill in the 1490s, located on the River Beane near Hertford North Station, where the trendy Sele Mill appartments now stand. Henry VII visited the mill several times. Tate's hand-made white paper was used by the London printer Wynkyn de Worde, a protegee of Caxton. The writer Bartholomaeus Anglicanus celebrated Tate in a poem which was printed on his very own paper...

And John Tate the yonger, Joye mote he broke
Which late hathe in England doo make this paper thynne
That now in our Englysh this boke is printed inne

Queen Elizabeth I
spent her childhood in the Hertford area and, among other places, lived in Hertford castle. The British Museum has a book of prayers written by Princess Elizabeth when she was nine, dated 'Hertford 1535'.

Oliver Cromwell
came to Hertford to quell an uprising.

Rev Samuel Stone
founded Hartford Connecticut USA. Stone was born in 1602 and lived in Fore Street, where the trendy Baroosh bar now stands. A Puritan, Stone left Hertford for America onboard The Griffin in 1633. He settled in Cambridge Mass, then headed 100 miles south. Here, he befriended the local Algonquin people who lived in the village of Saukiog. And, in 1636, he re-named it Hartford, with an 'a', in honour of his hometown in England. There's a statue of Samuel Stone in Hertford UK, on Millbridge.

Samuel Stone Biography

Hartford USA

Dr Thomas Dimsdale
Dr Thomas Dimsdale, who had his practice in Hertford, was a pioneer of smallpox prevention and published a book on it in 1767. The next year, he travelled to Russia to innoculate Catherine The Great. He became very wealthy and died aged 90. But Hertford's Dimsdale Street is probably named after another Hertford doctor: John Dimsdale, later Baron Dimsdale, who presented the main gates to Christ's Hospital school in 1721. The gates were presided over by two statues of boys in the school's 'Bluecoats' uniform. Replicas of these still stand on either side of the gates.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge
This renowned poet and thinker was a pupil at Christ's Hospital School, as was...

Charles Lamb
This famous writer became lifelong friends with coleridge when they were at school in Hertford.

Jane Austen
Austen visited Hertford. The top-floor ballroom in Shire Hall inspired the Meryton Assembly Rooms where Mr Darcy first appeared in Pride and Prejudice.

Richard Westall
Tutor to Queen Victoria.

Sir Minto Farquhar
A 19th Century MP. He rented the vast, rambling Hertford mansion house Goldings and gave many important African manuscripts to the British Library. He also campaigned against the use of child chimney sweeps. This followed the death, in 1852, of a seven-year-old sweep in a Goldings kitchen chimney.

Alfred Russel Wallace
This Hertford naturalist suggested the existence of evolution in his paper On the Tendency of Varieties to Depart Indefinitely From the Original Type in 1858. Wallace sent this to Darwin, who read it and published his Origin of Species a year later. Wallace travelled widely, as far afield as Malaysia and Brazil. And, among other things, discovered the Gliding Tree Frog. He also suggested the existence of a line in the southern hemisphere which appeared to separate Asiatic and Australasian species. This is now called the Wallace Line and is acknowledged as a tectonic boundary. Weirdly, many species of birds refuse to fly over it.

Alfred Russel Wallace Biog

Captain W E Johns
or 'William Earle Johns' was the creator of cult pilot Biggles. He was born in Bengeo (part of Hertford). He then lived in the town centre, at No 41 Cowbridge (commemorated by a blue plaque). He was just plain "Earl" when he lived in Hertford, adding the final "e" when he was published. Johns attended Hertford Grammar (now The Richard Hale School) which inspired Biggles Goes To School, set in the fictional 'Hertbury'. In this riproaring yarn, Biggles falls foul of bullies, but carries out various heroic exploits such as recapturing an escaped dancing bear.

Captain WE Johns Biog

Biggles Fansite

Biggles Info and Book Covers

Biggles Goes to School

Robert 'Brush' Addis
Go to any self-respecting supermarket and the plastic washing-up bowls, buckets and bins will be made by Addis. In 1920, Mr Addis and his company moved from London to Hertford, where they were based for many years.

John Tydeman
Head of BBC Drama

Geoff Hamilton
Popular TV Gardener

Michael Dobbs
Author of House of Cards

Nigel Hawthorne
The award-winning actor lived with his partner Trevor Bentham in a 15th century manor house in Radwell, 5 miles from Hertford. They bought it from...

Chris Lowe
of the Pet Shop Boys.

Described by Sound on Sound as 'high energy' and 'well worth checking out', Hertford band Melonfinger are headlining at Hertford Oxfest on Friday January 28th. Oxfest is a popular annual gig featuring some of the best bands in Herts and organised by Oxfam (hence its name). So you can give money to the Tsunami fund and have a good time too. Melonfinger, described as 'confident, attacking and raucous', will be supported by two other bands. I've heard some excerpts from their CD and thought they were excellent. Their sound is very energetic and refreshingly diverse. If you're into Feeder, Green Day, or The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, I reckon you'll like them a lot. The gig starts at 7pm and is at Castle Hall.

Today's Guardian reports on rumours that "huge stretches of world history have been secretly coordinated from a market town just north of the M25." The article, in G2, asks whether "treasures of immense importance" may be hidden underneath Hertford's sleepy streets.

Hertford resident Tim Acheson, descended from an ancient Templar family, claims in the article that St Andrews Church (round the corner from my house) has a stained glass window containing clear metaphorical allusions to the Holy Grail being hidden in Hertford.

The Guardian reporter then sets off in search of the tunnels underneath the town ,where the Grail is allegedly hidden. He ends up in Monsoon, where the assistants show him a strange cupboard and reveal that the building is haunted (like most of Hertford it seems). But they claim Monsoon isn't connected to anywhere by a tunnel...not even to Accessorise next door.

Curiouser and curiouser. I'll resist the temptation to add that Peacockshock reported on this months before The Guardian. Scroll down for previous Grail Trail stories.

Hertford's an excellent place to hang out if you're into celebrity spotting. I totally disapprove of celebrity culture and suggest you avoid the following list of local celebs at all costs, as it may corrupt you...

Posh and Becks
The Beckhams own a £3 million mansion house near Hertford, in Sawbridgeworth. "Beckingham Palace" used to be an orphanage and it's been tastefully redesigned. Brooklyn's bedroom has a domed ceiling with a £20,000 fibre-optic system that recreates the night sky. There's also a room dedicated to Audrey Hepburn memorabilia, a leopard-print bedroom, and a tartan bathroom with gold toilet seats. The garden boasts a bronze sculpture of the family and fake medieval ruins. And some of the staff were allegedly poached from the real royals. Posh and Becks are often sighted shopping and eating out around Hertford.

Sawbridgeworth

Beckham News

Bored With The Beckhams?

Rupert Grint
Ginger-haired Rupert, 15, plays Harry's best pal Ron Weasley in the Harry Potter films. He's just bought a £600,000 house on a private island on the River Lea. He attends the Richard Hale boys school in Hertford. Rupert loves rap music and performed a Ron Weasley rap at his audition. He also rides a unicycle and likes sports, but hates spiders.

Rupert's House

Frederick Forsyth
The bestselling author lives in a 26-room Queen Anne manor house set in 175 acres at East End Green just outside Hertford. Forsyth wrote "The Day of the Jackal", "The Odessa File", "Dogs of War" and "The Fourth Protocol".

Barry Norman
The film critic and presenter lives in nearby Datchworth.

Frank Warren
The legendary boxing promoter lives in nearby Watton-at-Stone in a mansion house next to the church.

Marty and Kim Wilde
The fifties singing star ("Oh Boy") and his daughter Kim ("Kids in America") live in the nearby village of Tewin. Kim is now a celebrity gardener.

Gillian Taylforth
The ex-EastEnders star lives in nearby Broxbourne.

Gary Mabbutt
Star footballer, now retired.

Robert Duncan
The TV actor who played jargon-obsessed newsroom executive Gus Hedges in cult Channel 4 sitcom "Drop the Dead Donkey".

Chas n Dave
Cockney duo Chas n Dave live near Hertford. Rabbit rabbit rabbit...

The Gaff
Hertford band The Gaff have supported boyband Blue in front of 20,000 fans, played gigs as far afield as Geneva and recorded a film soundtrack. They're now recording an album.

The Gaff's Site

Ian Peacock
Radio 4 presenter and writer Ian Peacock lives in Hertford. Oops. I've just realised. That's me.

My Professional Media Site

Me at the BBC (put ian peacock in 'search' for over 180 results)

Me at BBC Training

Why do they all live in Hertford?
Well, according to The Telegraph, "Herts is where the home is...they're rich, they're famous and they all live in a little corner of Hertfordshire..."

Telegraph Feature on Celebs in East Herts

A rainbow over the rooftops of Hertford.

Congratulations to local Herts firefighter Steve Manual who resuscitated no less than eight guinea pigs caught in a blaze in Puckeridge. Sooty, Sweep, Fred, Chewy, Chauncy, Rusty, Spike and Junior all survived after Steve performed delicate CPR on them.

Statue outside one of Hertford's many antique shops

As Halloween approaches, here's my personal guide to haunted Hertford. Or "haunted" Hertford if you wish. I've avoided writing "allegedly haunted" and so on, as it's tedious. I've not seen any of the ghosts mentioned. And I've always found the establishments in this guide to be perfectly pleasant places. Although I do sometimes feel a bit spooked when I walk past Wiggintons at night and look up towards the attic. I have had an odd feeling of being watched a couple of times. For more ghostly accounts, I'd recommend the book Haunted Hertfordshire. For best results, read this guide by candlight and hire a small owl or bat to sit on your shoulder...

Fore Street

A waiter at Cafe Uno once told me that no-one who works there likes going to the loos at night. "It's because the cubicles are sometimes locked...from the inside...when there's no-one else in the building. And it feels very very weird down there." When the building was a shop, it's reported that no-one ever used the loos. They were so spooked by the atmosphere, they preferred to leave the building to pay a visit. And, during the building's conversion into a cafe, three builders witnessed a pile of planks flung across the room, as if by unseen hands. Wires were ripped out overnight. And bricks placed in preparation for cement were all moved round 90 degrees. Since then, cleaners have experienced loud bangs and the mysterious removal of the iron chain which is placed across the stairs to keep the public out. And, one night at Christmas, staff clearing up the cafe were terrified as dark shadows started moving around the walls. Friends of mine have also reported feeling ill at ease in the loos.

Staff at Sheffields Chemist have reported banging on the floorboards, floating medicine bottles and a bottle of strychinine appearing from nowhere and flying through the wall. One day, a 200-year-old prescription book mysteriously disappeared and was then discovered in a totally unlikely location, open at a particular page. Then, the next day, it vanished again. The staff said "Can we have our prescription book back please?" whereupon it suddenly re-appeared through the wall and thudded on the floor, still open at the same page. When the owners tried to call psychic investigators, the phone went dead. Eventually, they managed to communicate with the ghost by tapping and discovered it had been killed by its brother. Having shared its story, the ghost quietened down.

Threshers cellar is haunted. Staff sometimes report turning up in the morning to find a tap has been turned fully on overnight, flooding the floor.

Albany Radio was once a private house called Cupboard Hall and was haunted by a lady in a Georgian costume.

Staff in Gays Newsagents often report the sound of someone playing a violin, but can never locate the source.

Marshalls Furnishings. After a huge fire in 1996, a policewoman had to guard the smouldering, blackened ruins of the building overnight. Looking up, she saw a man peering through one of the shattered upper windows. He was wearing "Cromwellian clothes." Terrified, she screamed for help. But, when back-up arrived, there was no-one there. Cromwellian figures have also been sighted at night in the Salisbury Arms.

Staff working alone at night in the old Hertfordshire Mercury building, on the corner of Parliament Square, reported lights going on and off, sudden blackouts, doors slamming and door handles moving. One reporter was so spooked by this that he called the police. A policeman turned up with an alsation which started scratching at a cellar door. A bunch of keys was swinging in the door. But, when they opened the door, the cellar was empty.

Red House, part of Bluecoats School, is haunted by a lady in a grey matron's outfit, carrying a tray up the stairs.

Around Town

The Hertford Club. One day, the barman turned up at 6pm and heard the sound of a snooker game coming through the wall: laughter and lots of male voices. No game had been scheduled and he was expecting the building to be empty, so he went to investigate and discovered an empty room, with snooker balls scattered on the table and cues quivering in the racks, as if a game had been ditched in a great hurry.

Staff have reported a ghostly presence in the back bedroom above Wiggintons Toy Shop. The owner's daughter used to sleep there and reported visits from a lady and old man with white hair and a beard. Psychic investigators believe the ghosts are benevolent and believe a young lady once nursed her dying father in the room.

However, family members refuse to go into the attic storeroom. Dogs growl and whine outside the room. And one psychic investigator concluded there was an "evil and nasty" presence.

A young man who appears thin, cold and hungry and is dressed in a wide-brimmed hat is often sighted on Port Hill near the Quaker Burial Ground.

A child in a modern conversion in Cowbridge reported the appearance of ghostly horses in his room. His parents investigated and discovered their flat was on the site of an old knacker's yard.

Do contact me if you have any good real-life ghost stories, especially ones relating to Hertford. Thank you.

By the way, who's that person standing behind you?

I'm ashamed to admit that Hertfordshire is responsible for one of the worst opening lines in literature:

It was a dark and stormy night

Or, to give the sentence in its full glory...

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents - except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.

This line (immortalised by Snoopy) opened an 1830 novel by Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, who lived in Knebworth Hall.

He did show literary promise as a young man, winning the chancellor's medal for verse at Cambridge and publishing a volume called Weeds and Wild Flowers.

But then his life took a dark and stormy turn. He fell out with his mother, who withdrew his allowance. Then he and his wife separated acrimoniously. She savaged him in Cizevely or the Man of Honour and heckled him viciously at public meetings when he was standing as a parliamentary candidate. She was declared insane at this point, but continued to attack him until his dying day.

He was a prolific writer and his novel Pelham, a study of dandyism, attracted considerable attention (and gossip about the identities of the characters).

But he's sadly remembered nowadays for his notorious opening line, which probably wasn't quite so cliched when he wrote it.

Nineteenth century literature is full of such purple passages. I rather like this one, written by Lyman Littlefield in 1841:

Twas morning - the sun rose under the brightest auspices, and the thin, vaporous clouds that flitted in the heavens, continued gradually to flee away before the gentle morning breeze, that seemed wont to greet their golden visages with the soft rustle of its dewy wings - until not a hand's breadth of them were seen remaining to mar the spotless beauty of the ethereal blue.

The San Jose State University in California runs an annual Bulwer-Lytton Writing Competition for appalling opening lines and descriptions. Here are some of the 2004 entries:

The legend about Padre Castillo's gold being buried deep in the Blackwolf Hills had lain untold for centuries and will continue to do so for this story is not about hidden treasure, nor is it set in any mountainous terrain whatsoever.
Siew-Fong Yiap
Kowloon, Hong Kong

It was a dark and stormy night - actually not all that dark, but more dusky or maybe cloudy, and to say "stormy" may be overstating things a bit, although the sidewalks were still wettish and smelled of ozone, and, truth be told, characterizing the time as night is a stretch as it was more in the late, late afternoon because I think Oprah was still on.
Gregory Snider, MD
Lexington, KY

Detective Micky Blarke arrived on the scene at 2:14 am, and gave his cigarette such a severe pull that rookie Paul Simmons swore the insides of the detective's cheeks touched, but the judge indicated that that amount of detail was not necessary in his testimony, and instructed the jury to disregard that statement.
Joe Polvino
Webster, NY

Gringran Roojner had only gone to see the Great Warlock of Loowith to get his horoscope and he couldn't believe he'd been sent on a quest for the legendary Scromer of Nothleen to ask him for the answer to the Riddle of Shimmererer so that he could give it to the Guardians of Vooroniank, thereby gaining access to the Cave of Zothlianath where he would find the seldom seen Cowering of Groojanc, whose spittle was an absolute necessity in the making of the Warlock's famous fruit cake.
Sandra Millar
Gowkthrapple, Wishaw

Clementine sat in the shade of a beech tree, of the family Fagaceae, the leaves of which were more or less ovate, being perhaps not quite as pointed as those of the North American, grandifolia species of the Fagus genus that are the color of a swimming pool that had been left too long without chlorine, but neither were they like those of Fagus sylvatica var. purpurea that are the color of dried burgundy stains on cream linen. (Winner - Fiction for the Erudite)
Geoff Beech
Cochabamba
Bolivia

For more, go to the Bulwer-Lytton Writing Competition Website

Bluecoats - just one of the Hertford institutions connected by a warren of medieval tunnels, thanks to papal persecution in the Middle Ages

According to The Times, The Pope is giving "serious consideration" to a letter he's received from a PO Box address in Hertford.

The letter comes from an international secret society called The Knights Templar (aka the "Keepers of the Holy Grail") who meet in a warren of ancient tunnels under the town.

The Knights have requested a papal apology for the persecution of their ancestors by the Catholic Church in the Middle Ages. This comes after the Pope apologised for The Crusades and The Inquisition.

The secret society's connection with Hertford originates in the 14th century, when several of the Knights were imprisoned in Hertford and the surrounding area. They've recently received a lot of attention thanks to the best-selling da Vinci Code.

The tunnels under Hertford are fiercely protected. Amateur archaeologists Subterranea Britannica recently expressed an interest in exploring them but received anonymous threats warning them not to.

There are more entries on the Hertford Templars in Round Town...

Thank you to The Insider for contacting Peacockshock with some fascinating links to articles about Hertford's alleged connections with secret societies and to recent stories which may involve the Holy Grail. Here they are:
Grail Article 1
Grail Article 2
Grail Article 3
Grail Article 4

Photo I took of Bengeo Church (once thought to have connections with The Knights Templar and The Holy Grail)

A mysterious labyrinth has been discovered beneath Hertford. And the weird medieval tunnels are still being used...

According to today's Mercury newspaper, there's a complex warren connecting Hertford Castle, Bluecoats School and many of the shops, restaurants and banks around Fore Street.

The tunnels link cellars, crypts and even bank vaults. And they probably date from the 12th and 13th centuries, when they were apparently constructed by a secret society of monks. The so-called Knights Templar were thought to be the guardians of the Holy Grail. And, after being expelled from France, several Templars settled in Hertford, where they were gradually driven underground. Hence the tunnels.

The Knights Templar organisation still exists. And it was a Templar from Hertford who spoke out to the paper. His revelations come after Hertford Tourist Office received a cryptic message from a group calling itself The Order a few weeks ago, hinting that the story would emerge soon.

Hertford is well-known as a base for Templars. It's also been suggested that several members of The Illuminati live in the town too (though the existence of this international secret society is questioned by many).

According to the paper, two secret societies still meet in the tunnels.

For more on The Illuminati, go to www.illuminati.org

Moet and Florence have occasionally been known to make vague attempts at burrowing in the garden, but deny all knowledge of secret societies or subterranean tunnels. Speaking earlier today from his hutch, Mo said "No comment. Give me a carrot." Meanwhile, Florence ran into the bedroom to eat a bean and refused to pose for the press.

The Holy Grail may be in Hertford...according to the local Mercury newspaper. And readers of the best-selling Da Vinci Code (which centres on Grail symbolism) are now "set to flock" here in search of it. Why? Well, this part of Hertfordshire was once a haunt of the mysterious Knights Templar who guarded the Grail's secrets. In 1309, King Edward III imprisoned four of the knights in Hertford Castle and local legend claims they hid their treasure around these parts. Now, thanks to the Da Vinci book, the tourist office is expecting a flood of Grail researchers around Hertford Castle, Bengeo Temple Farm and nearby Royston Cave. Of course, the Grail may not be an object at all, but that's another story. I'm reading The Da Vinci Code at the moment and it's excellent. Meanwhile, Bollinger the cat (click on pic) denies all knowledge of the Grail.

This evening, I was innocently walking down the river on the way home from the gym, admiring some sunflowers blurred by the smoke of a garden fire, when...a live lobster loomed in the middle of the towpath, giving me an evil and beady look and brandishing its claws in a menacing fashion. For a moment, after years of waiting, I thought I'd finally flipped. I was expecting Lewis Carroll to appear. Then, out of the dusk came the Sid James chortling of a nearby angler. "Don't panic," he guffawed. "It's a crayfish. There are loads of them in the river. They're not very friendly and they tend to eat the other fish if they don't like them, but it probably won't hurt you." He picked it up gently with a pincer thing, put it in the river and it swam off. "They're strange things," he added. "They come out of the river, go for a walk, then jump back in." Yet another odd Hertford moment. Breaking Crayfish Story

Hertford may look like a quiet backwater. But it was once essentially the capital of England. Hertford is also responsible for the date of Easter. It was crucial to the education of two of our greatest monarchs. It's infamous in the history of witchcraft. And who exactly was the mysterious Elbert Wurling? Read on to discover more. Click on thumbnails for bigger pix...

The Danes invaded Hertford several times, arriving by river from London. This was pretty easy as a ridiculous number of rivers flow through the town: notably the Beane, the Rib, the Lee (or Lea) and the Mimram. No-one knows where the Mimram got its name from. According to The English Place Name Society, it's also been known over the years as the Memeram (925) Meran (1000) Maeran (1100) Maran (1577) and Mimeram (1728). And, as if that's not complicated enough, a 1766 map calls it the Mimerum.

In the year 678, Hertford was the venue for the first General Synod of England, organised by Archbishop Theodore of Canterbury. The Synod united the churches of the six English kingdoms for the first time and established links with Rome that survived until the time of Henry VIII. It was attended by bishops Bisi, Putta, Eleutherius, Winfred and Wilfred (who came all the way from Northumbria). They declared divorce illegal and devised a preposterous method for determining the date of Easter, which we still use (it's the first Sunday after the first Full Moon after March 21st). Yes...Hertford is responsible for Easter changing its date every year.

Hertford Castle was a royal palace for 300 years.

Its flint walls remain, but the old castle-like building that survives in the grounds is in fact the castle's gatehouse, built in 1463.

In 1216, it was besieged by the Dauphin of France.

In 1359, The Black Prince kept King John of France there as a prisoner.

In 1360, John of Gaunt - the most powerful prince in England - moved in.

Henry VIII refurbished the castle and stayed there with his first wife Katharine of Aragon. (I seem to follow her around. I once lived in a house in the grounds of the Cathedral where Katharine is buried).

Queen Elizabeth I lived there as a child, in the care of a governess. (By coincidence, centuries later, Queen Victoria's tutor lived in Hertford too).

Parliament met in Hertford Castle during the Plague (hence Parliament Square).

Charles I didn't think much of the hunting at Hertford so gave the castle to the Earl of Salisbury.

For 400 years, Hertford was home to a famous school called Christ's Hospital or Bluecoats. It's now an independent boarding school and it's moved to Sussex. But its buildings and distinctive statues of blue-uniformed pupils remain. Established in 1552 to educate poor children, it was originally based in London, but moved to Hertford during the Plague. Its alumni include the Elizabethan playwright Thomas Middleton, writers Charles Lamb and Samuel Taylor Coleridge (who became lifelong friends in Hertford) and August Pugin who designed the Houses of Parliament. Bluecoats is now converted into apartments. And Tesco occupies the school's former grounds. I suspect the large palm tree in the Tesco car park was once part of the school's botanical garden.

Hertford boasts the world's oldest Quaker Meeting House. Founded in 1669, it's been in use ever since.

The last witch to be condemned to death in England was from Walkern village near Hertford. Known locally as a "wise woman", Jane Wenham complained in 1712 that her neighbour was accusing her of witchcraft. So the local vicar mediated and secured a massive 5p compensation, which she wasn't happy with. According to local legend, she then cursed the poor vicar's household and his servant became ill, claiming to be haunted by mysterious wailing cats. Then, as if that wasn't enough, the servant allegedly came face to face with a mystic mog which had the face of Ms Wenham. It had a knife in its paw, handed it to the servant and said "kill yourself." So Jane Wenham was put on trial in Hertford. The judge thought the accusations were ridiculous, but the jury found her guilty and she was sentenced to death. However she was granted a Royal Pardon and lived happily ever after, in the care of the Earl of Panshangar who took pity on her. The case stirred up controversy throughout England (click on thumbnails). Twenty years later, the old witchcraft laws were repealed.

Rare Witchcraft Manuscripts

There's a small mound in Hertford castle gardens with an underground door. This is an 18th century ice-house, where ice from frozen rivers was stored to form a predecessor of the fridge.

Hertford's Prince Albert Cottages, near Dimsdale Street, are exact replicas of some 'ideal home' cottages built for the 1851 Great Exhibition.

Unveiled in 1921, Hertford war memorial takes the form of a hart (deer) on a plinth. It was designed by Sir Aston Webb - the architect responsible for Admiralty Arch, plus parts of the V&A and Buckingham Palace. It's made from the same Portland Stone as the Cenotaph in London. And it's been claimed it stood on the first traffic roundabout in Britain. However, the first roundabout is in fact in nearby Letchworth. Described as an 'intersection for gyratory movement', it was constructed in 1910.

Letchworth Roundabout Info

One of Hertford's nightclubs has a very ancient-sounding name. But Elbert Wurlings is in fact named after a family friend of the owner - Albert Wurly. Albert, from Hoxton London, was a pal of the owner's grandfather.

The palm tree in Hertford Tescos car park.

Here are some pix of my home town, Hertford. This medieval arch is pretty near where I live and it's a useful landmark when I'm giving directions to the house.

This is one of Hertford's many antique shops, on my morning route to the station