330-332 Creek Road

There are actually two different kinds of vintage shop from both ends of the spectrum which fill me with joy. The chaotic, full-to-the-brim junk store with piles of unsorted stuff where it’s up to the buyer to sift through the rubbish to find a gem at a (sometimes, but not always) bargain price, and the more upmarket, beautifully arranged boutique where every piece is top quality – with prices to match. Emporium is defintely the second of the two.

It is one of those vintage clothing shops that make my heart sing and reminds me of the fabulous boutiques I used to frequent in Paris in the 90s (and which largely don’t exist any more.) It also puts to shame practically every other clothing shop, vintage or otherwise, in Greenwich. This is clearly run by someone who cares.

Its exquisite vintage glass display cases house sparkling diamante and paste jewelery, dinky handbags, glorious gloves and fabulous compacts, lain out in mouth-watering treasure-trove style. High on shelves classic hat boxes with exotic names jostle with feather fans and old advertising paraphenalia, from old 1950s adverts for face creams and lipsticks, to the top of a Shell petrol pump.

High on shelves, old showroom-dummy heads wear trilbys, flat caps and homburgs. Even the pillars are covered in vintage wallpaper and age-spotted mirrors. Particularly worth noting are the fab chandeliers – of which there are several.

In the main body of the shop, the clothes, dating mainly from the 40s to the 70s, are beautifully displayed on easy-to-peruse racks of similar items – no rummaging to be done here. Not everything is stuff I’d buy – I found the selection of evening gowns disappointing and the vintage ties are frankly not much cop, but good examples seem to be very hard to get hold of nowadays. Where the emporium excels is in 70s jackets and trendy tops – I’d say there’s more in the way of clothing for guys than gals, though the accessories are very good.

Don’t expect to find a bargain here. What you’re paying for is the rummaging someone else has done for you – but as opposed to Camden Market (one of the few places left where you can really rummage among unsorted stuff) you are far less likely to find an item ruined by moths, ripped fabric or – the real problem with the vintage lifestyle – heaviy stained with sweat or stunk-out with vintage B.O, perfume or must.

Placed on the 1950s cocktail bar are the usual clubbing flyers found in all trendy stores in the centre of town. There’s a vintage cigarette holder/ashtray by the door, which often holds a lit fag – presumably the owner enjoys the odd drag when the shop empties for a moment. It creates an interesting aroma as you enter.

The Covered Market

Hooray for a good old fashioned sweet shop that sells childhood goodies out of jars that line the shelves and windows of this diddy little sweet shop. I always felt that Greenwich needed one of these – I even considered staring one myself, but I don’t have the temperament or patience to deal with real live people on a daily basis, so I’m absolutely delighted that someone else has had the guts to do it.

I guess, being a kitsch-oholic, I would have made my version a little more cutesy old fashioned and gone for the full nostalgic experience similar to the delightful little sweetshop in Lincoln which makes you feel like you’ve stepped back in time. But I’m very happy to look past the modern downlighters and trendy fittings to the jars themselves and spend a cheery Saturday morning (yes, all of it …) choosing what to spend my pennies on. Clearly others do exactly the same thing – the queues in here on a weekend are frightening, with the owners showing a hell of a lot more patience with small children’s indecisions than I would. Mr Humbug is just one of the many reasons I love Greenwich and for that I have made it one of The Phantom’s Favourite Haunts.

www.mrhumbug.com

I’ve been checking out a couple of the more obscure loos in Greenwich – a subject close to my heart. Let’s face it – no one likes those godawful supaloos they’re trying to bring in these days. I passed the one at Greenwich Pier today as a lady and her small son were hanging about trying outside trying to pluck up courage o go in. My good deed for the day was to point them towards the excellent loos in the visitor centre about twenty five metres away.

But onto my loo reviews. Firstly, the seedy-looking 1940s/fifties nasties behind Discount Cycles in Rodmere St. This dark-bricked, grim-windowed gloomfest of a building is a (very) minor revelation inside. The paint inside is peeling badly beneath some seriously heavy grafitti-work but the lantern-windows in the roof make the inside very bright and it is, amazingly, scrupulously clean. All the loos have china bowls and proper seats. It is definitely not the worst I’ve seen by far – and a lick of paint would render them almost pleasant.

Just as grim-looking from the outside, the public conveniences in the churchyard at St Alfeges are also very clean, have china sanitaryware and proper seats. The hard, shiny paper is a hark back to the 70s but at least it doesn’t remind us any more that it is council property or order us to wash our hands. It’s darker inside as the daylight lanterns in the Rodmere St bogs are absent here, but again it’s not as threatening or as seedy as it might look from the outside. More research will be reported later.

A splendid little pub on the South-west corner of the Market, the Coach and Horses has a traditional white-rendered exterior with old fashioned lanterns, and a comfy modern interior which manages to be both cosy and minimal at the same time. The drink’s a bit on the pricey side – but I guess that’s just London for you. The pub menu is consistently yummy, interesting and just that little bit different – though it rarely seems to change much in itself. It gets hideously overcrowded on market days when it’s hard to find anywhere to sit either inside or on the benches spilling onto the marketplace, but at other times its much less hectic and the service is understandably less frenzied.

Seeing Art – it sort of depends what kind of art they’re into. If they like traditional painting, the Queen’s House has a new hanging of their maritime paintings (there’s a review somewhere back in the blog.) There are quite a few maritime paintings and portraits in the Maritime Museum – mainly upstairs to the right as you go in. If they don’t mind spending a few quid you could all have a meal at the Spread Eagle just so you can see the superb collection of local paintings – my suggestion would be a lunchtime or early week to get the best view.

If they like more contemporary art, they could try the Paul McPherson Gallery, which is opposite the Auction rooms in Lassell St. He has exhibitions from contemporary artists on a rolling basis – obviously I don’t know what will be on when you go. There’s a photogrpahers’ gallery at the bottom of Royal Hill whose name totally esacapes me just now – but they opened an exhibition space last week.

As for purchases, I’d suggest The Inspired Art Gallery which is at the South end of Greenwich covered market They have a much larger floorspace that it might at first seem and are worth checking out. A few feet away in Turnpin Lane, Red Door, which hosts a lot of local artists’ work has a small but curious selection. Warwick Leadlay mainly sells maps, but he does occasionally have contemporary art on display – he’s an eclectic man indee.

If they’re into prints, look no further than the Greenwich Printmakers Co-op – also in the covered marker (there’s a review of that in the blog somewhere too) It’s manned by the artists themselves and if you like the work of a particular artist, they can open drawers of more examples of their work for you.

To be honest there are little shops selling odd pieces of art all over Greenwich – some are better than others. There’s one along Trafalgar Road, but I’m really not convinced about the general quality.

If they want to take pot-luck, they could try Greenwich Auctions. It’s unlikely they’ll find any good fine art, but the experience is fun (also reviewed somewhere in the blog.)

Other people may have some places to add – I know this list is not exhaustive – but good luck for now!

I love history – I have practically every history book there is about Greenwich, Woolwich, Blackheath, Deptford etc. I love ‘em all – memoirs, dry monographs, exciting local reviews – you name ‘em I’ve devoured them – yes even the one which purports to be the definitive historical guide but seems to have been written by someone (not a resident) who hates the place.

There are loads of absolutely brilliant local history books, written by people who have lived here and loved it longer than I have been alive, let alone resided in the vicinity. Which is why I’m not going to write another one. Instead, get on down to the Visitor Centre and buy a few for yourself. Support these local historians – they know their onions. Go on their walks – if they hold Greenwich Tour Guide badges they know enough to make my shaky understanding of the area collapse in thirty seconds flat. Of course some are better than others – and I will be reviewing them as I go along here. But good or bad their knowledge is generally unfaultable – their manner of imparting it is down to personal taste.

There are more being produced all the time – and often the more home-made the cover looks, generally the better the history will be – even if the writing style isn’t always my cup of tea. Watch this space…

I love the Greenwich International Early Music Festival. Held every November in and around the Old Royal Naval college, it is an opportunity for beardy blokes in sandals & socks and ladies of a certain age in pony tails and colourful patchwork velvet jackets to get together, and enjoy the joy of the crumhorn, sackbutt and rommel pot. It’s a weekend of instrument-building, museum displays, masterclasses and concerts and I go every year. There’s something so reassuring about listening to music of Henry VIII’s court played on the lute in sumptious surroundings whilst the candles flicker and the wind blows the leaves in swirls around the courtyard outside. Splendid. Pick up a leaflet from the visitors’ centre.

Situated somewhat prosaically over an estate agents at Blackheath Standard, Anita is a no-nonsense beautician who can wax your legs in a trice and still keep you smiling. She’s just that bit older – which in my book means more experienced and therefore less pain. Her place is tiny – but quite big enough for her – she works on her own. She does all the usual – waxing, massages,facials etc, plus various specialist things like reflexology and electrolysis and keeps chatting so that you can take your mind off any horrid things going on. One day I must go and have something nice done rather than just treatments which cause exquisite pain. I have no idea whether she does “Brazilians” or not – by the time she’s finished my shins I’m just counting the seconds until it stops – but then I’m a total wimp and Anita’s are some of the least painful waxes I’ve had (the most painful was in a very posh French salon – presumably the more expensive the worse (and more snooty) the treatment.)

Hold your breath as you climb the stairs if you don’t like patchouli oil – the building is occupied by a lot of holistic practitioners who seem to like that sort of thing.

I am pleased to say that The Junk Shop is exactly what it says it is – and has been, I suspect, since The Ark. It’s exactly like junk shops should be – dusty, cluttered, slightly unsafe (I stepped down from the upper area and missed the mat, nearly going flying – more embarrassing than painful) and full of stuff that you can never work out will be useful to anyone – but for someone, somewhere, it will be the find of a lifetime. Outside, it looks like something out of one of those postcards of “Old Greenwich” – stuff hung up other stuff stacked up on the pavement. Inside the general feeling of chaos is compounded by a couple of slightly out of control pot plants, including a very elderly rubber plant high up on top of what looks like a standard lamp base.

There are dusty cases full of god-knows-what – handles off things, bits of odd china, bric-a-brac, geological specimens and stuffed things. On the stairs a box full of stoppers from cut-glass decanters jostles with several panels from the interior of someone’s house. Panels of what, I have no idea. Suspended from the ceiling are a number of rickety-looking chairs and shelves full of interesting tat line the walls – though it’s difficult to actually reach them for the stacks of odd furniture in the way. There are plenty of dusty old volumes and some real curiosities – including what I can only surmise to be a Victorian crutch – presumably owned by a Greenwich Pensioner…

I have no idea of pricing – there are none on display and I’ve never actually found anything I’ve wanted to enquire about. I’d welcome any comments from anyone who’s actually bought something.

This elegant, if rather sombre Hawksmoor church is typical of its architect in that there is something ever so slightly sinister about it. I fail to actually put my finger on it – perhaps it’s merely that much of it seems to fall in shadow most of the day – and that the entrance is not on the street but at the back on a rather sweet, if car-infested, green.

Maybe some of its creepy quality is owed to the unfortunate St Alfege himself who was the Archbishop of Canterbury in the Dark Ages. He is actually a Greenwich Saint (yes – a local saint for local people …) The poor bloke was captured by Vikings who’d moored their longboats at Greenwich and held for a fat ransom – 3,000 marks. Alfege refused to have a ransom paid for him so he had to languish in irons in a dark, dank cell with only frogs for company.

In a sturdy act of defiance, Alfege escaped – and fell straight into a bog. His Recaptured Holiness was put in more irons and a meeting feast was held to decide his fate. As the Vikings got more and more plastered, the drunken oafs started throwing food and ox-bones at him. Some say he died from the wounds, but others tell the no-less-cheery tale that he converted some of his captors who kindly cleaved his head open with an axe as an act of mercy.

King Canute ordered his bones to be taken back to Canterbury, a request apparently more successful than when he commanded the waves to retreat.

There’s been a church here ever since, but the Hawksmoor version has only stood since 1712 – after the previous one was demolished in a storm and the religious folk of Greenwich petitioned for a new one. John Evelyn and Sam Pepys were both worshippers at one time.

It’s in generally pretty good nick (apart from the poor cherubs outside whose faces have been worn away by years of pollution.) Like all churches of the neo-classical design, it’s quite simple, and rather lovely in that simplicity. There’s a gallery around the edge, which is a good vantage point if you go to one of the concerts they hold there on a regular basis. I’m particularly fond of the various wooden plaques commemorating charitable deeds for the poor done by various wealthy parishioners (who presumably didn’t like to talk about it.)

Thomas Tallis (of Spem in Alium fame) is buried here – but don’t look for him in the graveyard, which is what I once spent a good half-hour doing. He’s in the crypt below – as is General Wolfe, whose statue must have the best position in London, high on Observatory Hill in the park. If you’re into Tallis, the Thomas Tallis Society choir sings there on a regular basis. Last year they actually performed Spem in Alium – as well as another hitherto undiscovered 16th Century 40-part motet, which it’s thought could have been Tallis’s inspiration.

The church seems to be open at random times (though I’m sure there is a timetable) so my best suggestion for visiting if you don’t want to actually attend a service would be to go to one of the concerts and enjoy the architecture at the same time. You might even get to see inside the wonderfully typical Great British Church Hall opposite the entrance, which has a minute stage for amateur theatricals and smells comfortingly of tea-urns and selection-pack biscuits. Delightful.