Tom Scott: England

In Leicestershire, at the John Taylor Bell Foundry, there's fire, sledgehammer swinging, and metal hotter than a volcano. Also, several questions about cheese.

In Rutland, I try to fit an entire county in one camera shot, learn to spot chimneys in the sky, and make a very strange noise. Let's learn about paragliding.

At the University of Lincoln's Crime Scene House, where they teach forensic science students in simulated crime scenes, I have a challenge for you.

In Nottinghamshire, I join the team at MRS Training and Rescue -- the former Mines Rescue Service -- for an exercise that could have been so much worse.

At Sheffield Hallam University in the West Riding of Yorkshire, I meet the Clinical Simulation team, and deal with some surprisingly animated patients. (Note: includes simulated blood and gore.)

At Peasholm Park in Scarborough, in the North Riding of Yorkshire, I visit the Naval Warfare, ride with the world's smallest crewed navy, and scare at least two seagulls.

At the John Bull Rock Factory outside Bridlington, in the East Riding of Yorkshire, I watch as boiling sugar becomes an enormous amount of rock. Also, there's 1990s Dutch happy hardcore.

In Northumberland, at the National Trust's Cragside mansion, I visit the former home of the Magician of the North, learn a shocking fact about some lamps, and utter the phrase "it gets worse".

At the Tyne Road Tunnels, just over the border into Durham, I get very wet and cold underneath a river... but not in the way you might expect.

In Westmorland, at Morecambe Bay, I meet the King's Guide to the Sands, walk across a very dangerous stretch of sand, and learn about a centuries-old tradition that's been brought into the 21st century.

In Lancashire, at National Rail's Manchester signalling classroom, I learn why it's very, very rare for trains to collide... and then go to an actual, live signal box to see it for real.

At Jodrell Bank in Cheshire, I get to fulfill a childhood dream: but more importantly, I ask whether a telescope built in the 1950s can still do useful science.

In Derbyshire, at the National Ferret School, I say "hello" to some smelly thieves, and go on a surprisingly Biblical tangent.