West

Day 1: Bristol - Liverpool - Holyhead

Bit of an early start this morning and we're soon on our way to Liverpool.

I know nothing about my namesake's story at this point. I don't even know whether he was an army man, navy man, if he was an officer or squaddie, if he lived or died.

My first stop is the Liverpool records office where Roger the researcher meets me.

Luckily he's put together a collection of Census records that tell me more about my namesake's background.

Obviously it's not a complete science going through these old records and putting together a likely story, but it seems very plausible.

Strong seafaring connections

This James lived in a household of nine, in Everton, in a family with strong seafaring links.

His grandfather was a stoker on a steamer, his uncle was a ship's steward, and his father was a packer on the docks.

Past times - James Redmond in Liverpool.

The last thing Roger shows me is a crew list from a ship called the Anglia.

It says James was a fireman.

So I suppose I can rule out a trip to the trenches - he was obviously a seaman, but on what kind of ship I don't know.

The document mentions Holyhead a lot, so I think that's where I should go next.

We leave at sunset and not too soon - Liverpool are playing Athletico Madrid tonight and I've never missed a televised game yet - even in Thailand and the USA.

We get to the hotel to find that their Sky isn't working so I run down to the local pub and catch it there. It's a dull game that ends in a draw.

Day 2: Holyhead - London

I meet Gwyn, an old seaman in his 80s who is so dry he cracks me up.

His friend Gareth tells me an appalling joke about whales that I repeat to everyone through the day but I never tell it the way he does.

"We used to do a lot of whaling in the 1930s from Holyhead. Trouble was knowing how big the animal was and whether you'd beaten a record. So we built a large building to solve it. We called it the whale weigh station."

Hmmm, well it amused me.

Different lives - James in Casualty.

More seriously, I found out that the Anglia was a ferry to Ireland before she was taken over by the Admiralty and turned into a hospital ship at the start of WW1.

The parallel is really gobsmacking. This James was working his guts out shovelling 5 tons of coal a day in the bowels of the ship, never seeing daylight, so the ship could carry its cargo of wounded soldiers back from the trenches.

I've spent the last five years of my life pretending to save lives in a hospital TV series. It puts my life's work in perspective.

I find out that in 1915 the Anglia hit a German mine laid by a U-boat. 130 drowned but I don't know if my namesake was one of them.

There's nothing more to find out in Holyhead and I'm feeling a bit out of my depth so I get in touch with a historical researcher who is used to trawling through the National Archives, to see if she can find anything more out.

I'm meeting her tomorrow at Trinity House. So this afternoon is a seven hour journey to London through the pouring rain.

Day 3: London - Dover

I meet Hannah at Trinity House, spiritual home of seamen for centuries.

It's an impressive building and I feel nervous as I go in, more to do with the fact that I'm hoping to find out James's fate I think.

Hannah is great though she does keep me in suspense for a while before showing me a document that says he died on board the Anglia.

I suddenly feel very serious. I was secretly hoping he'd got out alive.

It seems so futile that he lived this incredibly hard life, seemingly losing his mother at 14 and then slaving away on ships, only to lose his life at 29.

When I was 29 I was living a comfortable life in Liverpool, filming Hollyoaks and having lots of fun.

Hospital ship - the Anglia.

The fact that hardly any records of James remain makes me really sad. However I discover he is named on the Tower Hill memorial for merchant seamen.

I used to live just around the corner from the Memorial but I knew nothing of its secrets.

It's really weird seeing my name up there, with our similar backgrounds. It gives me a glimpse of what might have been, had I not been lucky enough to be born in London 1971, rather than Liverpool 1886.

I really feel like I need to finish the journey properly and pay a visit to his final resting place, the wreck.

I don't reckon on seasickness though. I'm soon reduced to a quivering wreck, much to the amusement of the crew.

It just gives me more respect for James.

The sun comes out as I get up to throw a wreath over the wreck.

It's a poignant moment and I forget my nausea for a while and feel more peaceful.

Making this programme has actually affected me much more than I imagined it would.

I'll never wear a poppy again without a thought for James and all those all over the world who have put their lives in danger for a better future.