I have the hardest speaker challenge in the country. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Hi, I’m Ernie Boxall, and I’m a storyteller…or should that be storyseller. Let me explain… Every school holiday, I become Erine the Wizard of Storytelling at Tudor World in Stratford-upon-Avon, and to be a storyteller in Shakespeare's hometown, you have to be pretty good. The house, built in 1480 and renovated in 1594 after one of the most destructive fires in the town, is a living museum where families can steep themselves into the fabric of Tudor life. The town life, the English Civil War, and the Great Plagues of Stratford, along with smells, videos, and educational notice boards around the museum. In one particular room, Erine awaits as families climb the stairs into the infamous Ship Room, where, for ten minutes or more, they will learn about ‘Otto’, the now famous ‘Headless Knight of Stratford Upon Avon. NOTE: Don’t waste time scouring the history books for him. These slots are relatively easy as a storyteller, a captive audience who, while they have paid to tour the museum, I come for free, and it's all for personal satisfacrion. The challenge is the evening where, at 6 pm and 8 pm, almost every Saturday, you will be met by Wilfred the Warden of Tudor World, one of England’s most haunted Houses. This, ladies and gentlemen, is when I take the victi…visitors around the house, barely lit by a ‘Tudor LED lantern’ and educate and entertain them with the stories of everyone who has died there (and there have been an awful lot of people who have died in many ways, all of them tragic). And this is where it is, in my opinion, the hardest speaking gig in Britain. There will be a number of people pre-book for the hour’s tour because of the historical significance of the house, some will book because of the opportunity to experience the Spirit side of the building (no other actors, or ‘jump outs’ but ‘stuff’ as often happened), and the other will have come off the street after a day out or a hen night.

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I remember waking up as a 10-year-old talking to my Uncle Joe who played for the New York Giants I was a big sports fan and was so excited to hear his stories. My face would light up with a smile every time we talked about football and how much funny had. He was like a rockstar to me somebody I can look up to and want to be just like him as a football player. To to the day he died we still talked about football at lunch at dinner at holidays whenever we got together we talked football. He left me a legacy of sports that I'll never forget and be so grateful and thankful because of my uncle Joe.

One of the first books I ever read told the story of Kemlo, a boy born on a Space Station above the Earth. His adventures took him and friends outside the safety of the station on space scooters. The adventurers were mix of children born in space and those on Earth...the boys born on the station were acclimatized and moved freely...the boys born on Earth wore bulky suits. I was six at the time, the moon and stars were fiction. What fictional stories being written now will be factual in seventy years time?

Thank you for joining me on this journey through our stories. On my SKOOL platform, I will talk about the events I run and the people I have helped tell their stories. And now I am looking to work with business owners and interesting people to tell stories, and tell them well. Why? Who am I to start a podcast? Whoever begins a Skool must surely ask themselves, 'Who Am I?' to start a post? Perhaps you have been reading and listening to other people offer content on a subject; you are confident that your experience with the work can benefit the public and business owners. My skill, my experience and my passion are in storytelling. I don't mean just telling fictional stories; I believe we all have a story, and we should be telling it well. But first. Who Am I? Let me tell you a story. My story starts 71 years ago when a private in the Royal Warwickshire Regiment was drinking in the Granby Arms, Attleborough. My dad. You see, during the war, he served with the Regiment on the Ack-Ack guns and mortars. He was an athlete. He played soccer, rugby, ran, but most of all boxed for the battalion. He ate his meals with the officers and never drank. Until a few years after demob, and celebrated with friends. He drank three pints and began to feel 'woozy', and decided to get some fresh air. As he reached the door, he tripped and, falling into the street, bumped into my mother-to-be and fell over. They knew each other, and that is what may have saved my life before it started. She picked him up and took him to her house around the corner. That is how I was born. Not that night! A year after they married. The date, 18th of December, 1949 So, you see, our stories could be traced back to a time we were not even a thought, a vision or an atom.