Osteopath, anyone?

Sadly the Phantom is not infallible when it comes to matters of health. I haven't had the necessity to call an osteopath for years so when a friend asked me just now if I knew of a good one in the area, all I could do was reach for the Yellow Pages - hardly a scientific method of selecting someone who will be doing things to your body when you're just wearing a pair of pants...

So - can anyone reccommend a good one in the SE10 or SE3 area?

Hirst & Sons, Bakers

Royal Standard

This shop is worth visiting if only for the lovely ceramic tiles on the walls. I might be wrong of course, but these feel like they've been there since the shop was built - and that's just the sort of thing I love (we have sadly just lost a similarly pretty shop along Trafalgar Rd, where the new Tescos will be) The walls are set off nicely by the old-fashioned curvy glass counters and the more modern wooden signs abover the bread.

If I'm honest, the bread isn't much to write home about. Baked at the sister shop in Lewisham, the bog-standard breads and commercial-quality cakes could be found in any similar bakers - but Hirst have several things in their favour - they're a small company, local and they're not Greggs. There is some character left here and the service is generally friendly and efficient - as long as you don't accidentally turn up behind a bunch of builders who've come in for a bulk order of egg rolls at the sandwich counter.

They seem to be doing ok at the moment, given the depressed state of the Standard. I hope they survive - they provide a valuable service - even if their bread is nothing out of the ordinary.

Super Casino goes to Manchester

Well - there's a turn up for the books. Certainly not what the bookies were predicting, eh, which just goes to show you shouldn't gamble - it's a risky thing...

I'll nail my colours to the mast now. I was in favour of the Casino. I really thought that all things considered it was good for Greenwich. I know all about the crime/addiction/degeration arguments - and can't say it was all going to be perfect - but nothing is and I tend to think that it was well out of the way of where most people live, in a separate area - it's a reasonable distance, I'd say, to the nearest current flats. I'm not, of course talking about residential areas waiting to be built - frankly if people choose to move into an area after a casino's opened then that's up to them. So I'm mildly disappointed - but not gutted. I wasn't enough in favour to march...

Anschutz were holding the Dome to ransom, of course, saying that huge amounts of development money would be witheld if they didn't get their own way (I've got to say that if I had been on the committee I'd have not given them the licence just for that - blackmail is never an attractive thing.)It will be interesting to see how much of that development is actually stopped. In fact, I'm fascinated about that entire Penisuala development. I bet Mr Prescott isn't popular in a few circles today.

Personally, I predict that AEG will have another go. They've always said they wouldn't go for a smaller casino - it was all or nothing for them - but I suspect that now they've lost The Big One they'll change their tune and go for any second round that may just happen to appear.

In the meanwhile, it's dug Anschutz out of one small hole re. the Tutankhamun exhibition which is due to hit the Dome in November. The Egyptian Head of Antiquities had refused to allow the exhibition to come if there was a casino, saying it would be disrespectful to the relics (though contrary to other reports the famous mask was never going to come our way - it's too fraglie to leave Egypt now.) Anschutz was going to have to decide whether they should delay the casino to accommodate the exhibition - now they are relieved of that decision.

I know many of you will be delighted to see that the Dome lost the bid. For my money, I think it would have been a good thing.

Red Door Gallery

Turnpin Lane

Another Turnpin Lane curiosity, The minute Red Door Gallery is a shop showcasing local artists - especially sculptors, like Katherine Morling, whose pottery palm trees and odd colonies of skulls on sticks (based on the giant - and very creepy - memento mori on St Nicholas Church, Deptford) are enticingly fresh and original. Ceramics are heavily featured, often weighing towards the practical - vases and plates etc - clearly with the gift market in mind. If you do end up buying something you can also get the wrapping paper and card at the same time.

I can't afford most of the stuff in there, even though they claim to have "prices to suit every budget," - but it's always intriguing to have a look. The "quilted" ceramic vases are particularly good, and there are some lovely jugs and mugs which are a little less pricey. The shop also sells dinky objets d'art and scented candles of the love 'em or hate 'em variety. Word to the wise - if you hate 'em, make sure you bring a peg if you go in; they're very powerful indeed. The displays change, as do the exhibitions at the back, on a regular basis.

www.reddoorgallery.co.uk

Kerala Zone

Trafalgar Road

I'd heard a fair bit about Kerala Zone before I'd visited it - I was still a little sad at losing Lauras. But most people thought the food was pretty good, though many complained the waiting times were long.

I don't generally tend to think that waiting times are things to be worried about if the food and the company are good - it at least implies that the food is being cooked to order and I was intrigued by that food - South Indian cuisine which is different from the usual bog-standard British Curry menu, which seems to be the same in every subcontinental restaurant/take away no matter what the origins or tastes of the chef.

I can't make up my mind about the decor. They've obviously made an effort to be different from the classic flock-wallpapered, strangely cross-cultural curry house, complete with velveteen-and-gold scenes from the Koka Shastra and a shiny calendar with pictures of waterfalls. These walls have silhouetted palm trees painted as murals against a dark orange background. So far so good. I didn't even object to the furniture - dark wood high-backed chairs and simple tables. But the rest of it slips badly - dodgy plants in the window supplemented by lighting-up cacti that change colour and disco rope lights. A neon sign announces the opening times and a dot matrix display sends enticing messages to the outside world. The clock has swirly lights around it and they appear to have forgotten the Christmas decorations are still up.

So - a hybrid - is it tasteful or kitsch? Regular readers of this blog will know I am a big fan of kitsch - but I'm an all-or-nothing kinda phantom - I either want to be utterly surrounded by plastic palm trees and golden tissue boxes in the shape of the Taj Mahal - or I want minimalist chic (to be honest I think I'd rather go for the former but I don't mind - the only sin is not being wholehearted.)

Of course the real issue is food - if that's fabulous I can forgive pretty much any decor. We didn't have as long to wait as I had been led to expect - though this could have something to do with the fact that we were the only four people in the place. We nibbled on poppadums with not-quite-enough pickles. They were crisp and fresh and the onion salad that I had ordered when I realised the paucity of the pickles was absolutely delicious - some kind of vinaigrette dressing brought it out of being mere chopped onions and tomatoes - this attention to detail is always a big hit with me. The starters seemed quite heavy and cakey, but were also declared a hit.

Kerala Zone doesn't use artificial colours so most of the curry dishes looked exactly the same - a sort of brown goo - but all were tasty and different. One of my companions had a splendid fish curry in delicate yellows and whites - with a similarly light flavour. I wasn't entirely convinced by the rice, but it was still totally edible - and I am a fussy rice eater.

Kerala Zone is one of the better Indian restaurants in Greenwich. I enjoyed the difference in the recipes and it was nice not to see neon pink meat or bright yellow vegetables, the absence of artificial colour allowing them to bring out their naturally more subtle hues. It's not top-notch by any means - but you don't go to Greenwich for hard-core Indian food. This is a tasty, extremely friendly local eaterie to return to again and again so that you can work your way around the interesting and well-cooked menu.

Bullfrogs Shoes

Right on the very corner of Nelson Road, Bullfrogs is one of those places I've passed so many times and rather enjoyed the funky display but never actually gone inside. Perhaps a busy Saturday at sale-time wasn't the best time to check it out, but there I was anyway, standing in the middle of a series of pale green circular pouffe stools, trying to see past the gaggles of young humanity poring over the bargains.

It seemed to me that the boys' stuff was better than the girls' - good clubwear and interesting day shoes for guys, but the women's selection wasn't as good - slightly tacky-looking high heels and unexciting daywear - though perhaps that's what sales are all about - presuabably if it was that good it wouldn't have made it to the sale at all. The usual clubbing flyers littered the desk, and frankly it felt a little scruffy - but I'm giving Bullfrogs the benifit of the doubt. Nowhere looks at its best during saletime. I'll go back in a month or so for an update.

National Maritime Museum

I understand that this august building was once home to a rather dull display of paintings of rear-admirals and dusty models of ships. I don't remember much about a childhood visit which apparently included such items, but it's certainly not like that now. Bright and light, it houses well-designed, often interactive displays designed mainly, it would seem, for people with a passing rather than a deep interest in all things marine-related.

Objects range from the profound - sobering articles from Franklin's ill-fated expedition to Antarctica - to the frivolous - just what is that giant tank of water in the ground-floor gallery for?

I particularly like the no-nonsense polemic stance that the captions by the exhibits take. No wishy-washy sitting on the fence here. As the visitor walks around the museum a picture is gradually built not only of the exhibits, but of those who collated and curated them - for me something almost as fascinating as the place itself. (I used to find a similar frankness in its sister museum, the Royal Observatory, though it has changed somewhat now.)

My favourite permanent exhibit is the Ocean liners display complete with reconstructions of first class and steerage accommodation, posters, menus and films all with a very obvious sponsor. The scatological child in me enjoys looking for the people doing naughty things in the cabins of the scale models of liners at the end (or beginning, depending on which way you come in) and the plastic peeping-toms watching them through miniature portholes...*

I also enjoy the "exploration" section - a darkly sparkling jewel focusing on ancient mariners and treasure seekers, not to mention the odd merchant adventurer and pirate.

Upstairs there are some quite interesting interactive things, mainly for kids (though I quite enjoyed playing on them too)and a rather boring gallery of paintings, ancient and modern, which I always think is shut - but then find it's not - it just looks like it.

Ultimately I find the museum an excellent one-off. It passes a splendid afternoon for the mildly curious, but, as with so many modern museums, it fails to deliver any real depth. In trying to ensure that it appeals to all, it forgets that some would actually prefer a little more content. So though, as a resident (and friend of the museum) I do visit on a regular basis, it is really to see the generally superb temporary exhibits - Nelson & Napoleon was a particular favourite of mine.

Outside there is a fabulous view - to the front the Old Royal Naval College, to the rear the Royal Park. The cafe serves the usual tea, buns and olde-worlde lemonade at the usual inflated prices, but at least it's in pleasant surroundings. The gift shop is splendid - very well-stocked with interesting themed goodies as well as all the usual souvenir-shop-suspects.

Try not to be put off by the daft roaring sound just outside the entrance to the museum. It's supposed to be the sea - if you walk fast enough it will irritate you for at most a few seconds.


*made you look....

Daisy Cakes Bakes Shop

Deep down dark little Turnpin Lane, leading into Greenwich Market, which I will talk about in depth on another occasion,lies a dinky little pastel-pretty shop called Daisy Cakes Bake Shop.

It's tiny - so it's more the public face of a bespoke cake making service, but it does sell the odd gorgeous cupcake and cakey-slice as well as sugar roses for your own creations and a limited selection of decorating equipment. Cute Cath Kidston-esque cake stands and examples of the kind of cake that you can order for your special occasion line the window, as well as little sugar figures of brides and groomse - either standing or sitting with their legs hanging off the side of the top tier of your wedding cake. All in all, it's very pink indeed.

According to the website they bake everything on the premises. All I can say is that that shop must be like the Tardis out the back - or perhaps they're employing Ooompa-Loompas. They try to source locally, organically and ethically which is never a bad thing.

Don't expect this all to come in cheap - but you're paying for a unique service here, so it seems that you're paying for quality and individuality. I have never eaten a Daisy-baked cake - I would appreciate any comments from people who have.

www.daisycakesbakeshop.com

St Alfege's Passage (Oooer, Missus...)

A charming little early-Victorian slip-though running down beside St Alfege's church. The house on the end, next to the entrance to the churchyard is by far the prettiest at any time of year as they carefully keep their window boxes full to bursting point. What with the old stone paving, the splendid entrance to St Alfege's churchyard and the lovely lamp posts, this is an enchanting passageway.

At No 16, is St Alfege's Guest House, a dear little B&B - from what I can see on the website. I walked down there the other day to see if I could find it (before I looked it up) and it's so discreet that I couldn't tell which house it was.

Run by Robert & Nicholas (or so I read) it has, it would appear, three exquisite rooms, one of which is a single; another has a four-poster bed. The sitting room looks cosy too. The prices seem pretty damn reasonable for the centre of Greenwich - nay, for London - from £40 for a single room. It's predominantly gay, but claims to give straight people an equally warm welcome. Watch out, Robert and Nicholas. The Phantom or one of the team of spooky spies will be staying with you soon...

www.st-alfeges.co.uk

Winter Wonderland

Well - it's a bit of an event these days, isn't it? So - I trudged out this morning with my trusty camera - well - two of them actually. I managed to get (I think) quite a few good ones with my fabby camera - then the battery ran out. "Not to worry," I thought, "I still have my trusty point-and-shoot." I got about ten with that before the battery ran out on that too.

They're both on charge at the moment, and so far I've only been able to retrieve the ones on the point-and-shoot (see above.)

It's a shame really - I have never seen the deer so close to the side viewing point in the park and I didn't make it down to the Old Royal Naval College because it just wasn't worth the slidy-path hazards. But there were lots of people out taking pics - I certainly wasn't the only recorder of this rarer and rarer event.By 9.00am the snow was on the way out anyway.

I have no idea how often we'll see snow any more. Climate change seems to be coming on faster and faster. The local paper this morning says that the Thames Barrier was shut three times in four days last week - I had certainly noticed how high the tide was on Saturday. But this little snowfall proves all is not totally lost - yet.

I have both cameras on charge in case we get another downfall.

If the other camera's pics are any good, I'll post them either here or on my forthcoming gallery.

Emporium

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.

Mr Humbug

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

Loo Update

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.

The Coach and Horses

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.

My Parents are coming to Greenwich for the first time and they are keen art fans, Can you suggest where they can see some art and maybe purchase some?

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!

History Books

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...

Greenwich International Early Music Festival

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.

House of Beauty

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.

The Junk Shop

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.

St Alfege's Church

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.

The Launderette

Trafalgar Road

I hadn't visited a launderette since I was a student - and was rather looking forward to taking my two pillows (that I had been told were past it and had been urged to send to an animal sanctuary for bedding) along to find out what happens at one these days. I have been feeling rather guilty about our washing machine (no tumble dryer at least) and thinking maybe I could get rid of it and just use the local services for a while.

The Launderette (don't you just love it when they DON'T give shops comedy names - and just call them what they are) along Trafalgar Road has that faint air of an Eastenders set - and is even rather cool in a clean, rough & ready sort of way. I brought my pillows in and asked the handful of pensioners where I could find the lady in charge.

When she arrived from the back room, I asked her what the best way of doing my pillows would be - and to be honest I jumped at the service wash option - I just didn't want to sit around for hours on end - and let's face it - there's not a lot to do in that part of Trafalgar Road while you're waiting. "£7 for two pillows - well - it's a personal service - that's fine if my pillows are going to be ok," I thought.

I went off to meet a pal in Buenos Aires (doesn't that sound more exotic than it is ...) and do a little shopping. After a few hours of checking out a couple more places, I checked in to the Launderette to see if my pillows were ready. The lady was nowhere to be seen, but my pillows were in a plastic basket on top of a machine. I felt them and they were still damp, so I assumed that they were waiting for another whizz in the dryer and went home.

The next day, my partner went to the Fishmongers, so I asked him to pick up the pillows for me. When they came back, they had clearly NOT been put back in the dryer - they were STILL damp - the only change in them from the day before was that they now smelled of cigarette smoke. Oh and I didn't get my little Tupperware box for washing sachets back either.

Frankly I think that animal sanctuary's going to get a couple of pillows after all, and there's no way I'm getting rid of the washing machine just yet.

Tumbling

Tumbling was outlawed in 1857, just one of many robust Greenwich and Blackheath activities that had a stop put to them by Victorian prudes. Which is a great shame as far as I can see, especially with the Olympics coming up - now they're getting rid of beach volleyball as an Olympic sport, they need something a bit saucy to perk things up.

Tumbling was a naughty game played by courting couples in cheekier times. A young swain would climb to the top of the hill in Greenwich Park with his lady-love, during the madcap days of the twice-yearly Greenwich Fair, then drag her, squealing - either with delight or sheer terror - down again, going at such a pace that she'd fall over, and roll the rest of the way to the bottom, legs and skirts akimbo, affording a splendid view to all and sundry.

It was quite a dangerous activity - accidents were an occupational (or should I say "recreational") hazard. In 1730 one lusty young wench broke her neck, another her jaw bone and yet another her leg in a single day. The Victorians, of course, took a dim view and banned it (along with the fair itself.) Presumably nowadays they wouldn't allow it on bloomin' health and safety grounds, but I reckon it's high time it was reintroduced - perhaps even as an Olympic sport. Of course you'd need the proper gear - ideally a crinoline skirt and frilly pantaloons - but it could provide hours of fun and exercise for all the family. Points would be awarded for the inelegance of the tumble and the amount revealed. For "Live TV" coverage, the pantaloons would be optional.

Stitches & Daughters

There's a scene in 'Alice Through The Looking Glass' where Alice walks into a shop owned, I vaguely remember, by a sheep who did knitting (entirely irrelevant to the point I'm making, but it might help you remember the bit I'm talking about.) It is full of the most delightful goodies - beautiful things on shelves up to the ceiling and bright shiny things that she KNOWS are just what she needs. The trouble is that whenever she tries to focus on anything the shelf she's looking at is suddenly entirely bare (though all around the shop still seems to be full) and Alice finds herself supremely frustrated because she is desperate to buy something lovely.

That's a bit how I feel when I go into Stitches & Daughters. I want so much to like this shop. From the outside it looks utterly beautiful - a cute little multi-paned window with lovely displays of Emma Bridgewater crocks and pretty greetings cards. I walk in the doorway, where there are some natty pieces of wrapping paper on rails and as I get to the main part of the shop my heart rises. The nice lady always says hello and I think "Today I am going to find something perfect."

The Buena Vista Social Club are playing gently in background (I have never heard anything else) and all around me I can feel the presence of sparkly, feathery, fluffy, painty things. I'm in the mood to spend. But when I get down to specifics, there's really nothing that particularly grabs me - not even as a potential present for friends even girlier than I am. There are usually some good quality, solid clothes - individual pieces or short-runs which I would describe as elegant items for ladies-of-a-certain-age - but nothing that truly catches my eye.

There is a glass case full of sparkly jewellery - but if I try to find a single piece on its own that I must have, I'm stumped. There's the odd antique - usually a pretty kitchen or household item - but nothing I really want enough to move something out to make a home for. Some of the toys for well-heeled kiddies are fun - including some pretty china plates, and there are some rather nice little leather bootees - presumably christening or First Birthday gifts - but still - nothing that I really need or want.

In the end I find myself having to wish the lady a polite "thank you" and beating a blushing retreat. This is a lovely shop. What's wrong with me that I can't find anything I want to buy in it? Am I trying too hard?

I am pleased to say that SOMEBODY must like the goods in Stitches & Daughters because it's been there a long while and shows all the signs of being prosperous. Long may it continue to be so. I'm going to keep going in there and one day, maybe one day, I'm going to buy something.

The Creaky Shed

This is just the sort of shop that needs to be encouraged. A Royal Hill Lovely, the Creaky Shed is a little gem selling all manner of good quality fresh fruit and vegetables mainly on a seasonal basis. I adore going in there because it's so well laid out - everything in neat baskets of overflowing plenty. Unusual vegetables jostle with more workaday favourites and there are also one or two interesting jars of accompaniments such as apple sauce and sundry jams and pickles. Outside the sweet little window is always a gorgeous display of abundance - flaming pumpkins and strange squashes in Autumn, jolly tangerines, nuts and shiny things in the run up to Christmas and shocking pink sticks of champagne rhubarb and giant naval oranges in the gloomy depths of January - just when you need a bright, cheery pick-me-up. That particular row of shops has to be my favourite in Greenwich, for colour and sheer cuteness.

The service is personal and friendly and I never feel embarrassed to ask for just one or two of anything or enquire what something actually is - and, indeed, what to do with it if I buy it. The fact that it's rather dark inside would normally make a shop a bit gloomy, but the friendly atmosphere and the veritable cornucopia of jewel-like fruits and vegetables is such that it feels sumptuous rather than dim. The prices seem initially high - but you don't have to actually buy a kilo of this or that - you can just ask for what you need and they'll happily weigh it out for you. Frankly the quality is better than some of the frankly manky stuff I've seen at Blackheath Farmers Market on occasion. (I don't mind odd-shaped or mudddy - I've got an allotment, goddammit - but some stuff is just plain poor quality.)

My only complaint is that there aren't more of these places. The quality and variety of veg on sale here makes it a must - but it would be nice not to have to travel a couple of miles for everyday essentials. I place the blame partially at the feet of the supermarkets - but have to take some of it myself for having supermarket-shopped in the past. I now make an effort to buy local and small as much as possible to encourage more brave souls to start quality businesses. That's not, by the way, to say I don't actually go to Sainsburys at all - but wherever possible if there's a (nice) local alternative I'm now trying to take it.

I guess it's getting me out and walking off those Christmas pounds.

The Creaky Shed is one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts

Train Topiary

If you're taking a stroll around the Westcombe Park area, then make sure you look out for one of my favourite front gardens in Greenwich. Not only does number 23, Foyle Road boast a splendidly nautical theme in the shape of an old rowing boat, coiled rope and other seaside-related paraphernalia, but there is a delightfully-cut topiary steam engine hedge, complete with buffers, engine and bell. A lovely, flamboyant surprise in a generally architecturally restrained area, and something for children to look out for if you have to walk that way.

I had been worried recently because on passing it a few times it seemed to be getting a bit - well- fluffy round the edges. But I am pleased to report that on walking up there a day or so ago it had been very well clipped, was sharply defined on boths sides of the boundary and just as glorious as ever.

At the risk of looking like some kind of tragic stalker, I have chosen this as one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts

The Meeting House

From the sublime to the ridiculous - Wednesday, I was in The Spread Eagle eating caramelised cod, yesterday I was in the Meeting House scoffing a jacket spud.

The Meeting House is one of my favourite cheap eats in Greenwich. Situated in the covered market, it gets stupidly full at weekends, but the rest of the time it just ticks by. It's basic stuff - bright fluorescent strip lights, basic tiled floors and aluminium picnic chairs which don't quite fit the marble-topped tables.

It's waitress service, and the selection is huge considering the size of the kitchen. You can have your usual greasy-spoon fare - egg, bacon and chips, omelettes, fry-ups etc, your sandwiches with multi fillings and ever-so-slightly 'exotic' stuff like curries and bagels with interesting toppings, but for my money the home-made pies, dishes such as lasagne - and those jacket spuds - are the best. Specials are listed on the chalk board on the wall - but they don't change much. If you get a jacket potato, it comes on a plate covered in so much salad it's hard to finish it, and the toppings are generous to say the least. You will not go hungry here.

They have wine racks on the wall, but I have never seen anyone drinking alcohol. This is a place to enjoy orange 'workman's' tea and Gaggia-made coffee.

We're hardly talking cordon bleu cookery here. But you'll fill up with something cheap and cheerful without having to lie down afterwards from the wallet-strain.

Service ranges from cheery to sullen, exemplary to indifferent depending on the day of the week, the time of day and the length of the queue.

The Spread Eagle

Crooms Hill

Yup, folks - it's the one you've all been waiting for...

A long one today - sorry.

I hadn't intended to visit the newly-refurbished Spread Eagle last night - I had a dinner date in central London - but it all went pear-shaped so I decided to have a drink there - as a taster for visiting properly later. Somehow, though, once we were inside we ended up going for the works after all...

I hadn't wanted to like the Spread Eagle. It annoyed me that yet another Greenwich institution had been corporatised by Greenwich Inc, which until the refurb had at least not done too much to the actual look of the place. I loved those little cubby-holes for private dining and the quirky décor. As soon as we found out that it was closing to redevelop, we went one last time so that we would have some sort of "control" meal to compare with the new-look S.E. It was good, interesting food, on the whole - we had the tasting menu, if memory serves, and it was perfectly satisfactory. I drank in the décor for the last time and "enjoyed" the splendid sink in the upstairs ladies' loo (ask any girlie who's been.)

Our other great loss was the ramshackle 'antiques' shop next door - which had originally been owned by the former proprietor of the Spread Eagle restaurant. I used to love that staircase leading up into gloomy labyrinthine bookshelves and down into even gloomier domestic paraphernalia. It was a "proper" antique shop - covered in dust and thoroughly enjoyable. It had a very long closing down sale and then one day it was gone.

We've been pressing our noses against the glass since then. For a while we started to wonder if they were actually going to bother re-opening - nothing seemed to be happening - then all of a sudden it was done. Swept away were the cubbyholes and the dusty antiques, brought in were giant chandeliers, downlighters and dozens of paintings on the wall.

And it's those paintings which will be the main selling-point of the new Spread Eagle. I had no idea about this collection - built up by the former owners of the restaurant, the Moy family, including the eccentric Dick Moy, last in line. Presumably it was kept in their private house or somewhere else out of public view because yesterday was the first I knew about it. I'd heard there were paintings of Greenwich in the new restaurant - but I'd expected cod junk-shop prints and auction-house finds.

What is actually here is extraordinary. It's a collection that easily outnumbers and perhaps outclasses that of the Queen's House's ground floor gallery, and what some of the earlier paintings lack in "Old Master"ness they make up for in quirk, local and historical interest and - well - sheer numbers. Each of these works is utterly fascinating - from a local person's, a historian's and an art lover's view and although the tables get in the way a bit, if you go on a quiet day, you shouldn't have too much difficulty walking around - every wall in the place is covered - yes - the corridors, loos, staircases too. The modern work is just as interesting - Dick Moy patronised a couple of local artists as well as the odd famous one.

What's even better is that they give you a full-colour glossy catalogue with your meal so that you can contextualise the work while you eat. My favourite? I can't decide between a delicate Tissot etching and a print of a strange-looking ruin in Westcombe Park that I'd never heard of. If you don't read it all you can take the catalogue home as a gift.

But onto the restaurant. Yes, they've lost the cubby-holes. Yes, they've lost the quirk. Yes, they've lost the joyful antiques shop next door. But what they have lost in character, they've made up for in elegance. This is a HANDSOME refurbishment - the walls (what you can see of them under the paintings) a delicate shade of green, the coving picked out in white. Downlighters give it a modern feel and if there are a few too many tables set for my liking - it's a little squashed - they are at least splendid.

The least successful bit, IMHO is the first room - the bar - which has the tables set around the walls like a cross between a public bar and a waiting room, which, I suppose, is exactly what it is. They've kept the lovely cast-iron staircase and I noticed a little piece of what must be the original wooden fittings behind it that they've left bare - a nice touch. The bar at the back remains the same in essentials.

The main dining room downstairs feels very classy and they sat us in the unchanged bay window - my favourite position - though I suspect it was more to make the place look full than to please me. The paintings dominate, of course, but are not by any means an unwelcome intrusion. Next door, the private dining room in the old antiques shop ground floor is splendid - a fine place for a special birthday meal. The central chandelier is as sumptuous from inside as it is from the street. Upstairs is another little room - also cute, and the main dining room is much the same as downstairs - but worth making the trip to see just for the art works.

The service is friendly - though virtually nobody spoke good enough English to make anything other than basic orders - certainly questions would have been hard work, though the guy in charge seemed a bit better than the general waiting staff.

The menu looks very similar to the one before the refurb. We didn't bother with the tasting menu as it didn't look different enough, and went for the two-course option instead. My scallops were nicely done - not rubbery, though rather swimming in sauce and the sliced vegetable they came with was unidentifiable. It was cream and tasted of absolutely nothing but was very crunchy so had been clearly included for the texture. I thought it might be Jerusalem Artichoke, so I chewed very thoroughly (they're not called Jerusalem Fartichokes for nothing, you know) but it wasn't nutty enough to be that, so I'm plumping for celeriac. It wasn't unpleasant - and the crunch was welcome. My companion (note the restaurant-critic-speak) chose seared tuna which was divine.

The mains were also perfectly good. My Companion (there it is again...) chose the beef, which was enjoyable, if accompanied with rather chewy pancetta. I had the cod - which tasted wonderful - but not like cod. Or indeed any fish. It was juicy and succulent, and flaked beautifully. Caramelised and gorgeously browned in all the right places it was utterly lovely - but not anything like cod. I'm not sure what it tasted like actually. Sweeties, I guess. Yum.

There's an odd mix here between cutting-edge and curiously old-fashioned cookery. It's presented in a modern enough style, but some of the techniques seem to mask the actual flavour of the food. We didn't have desserts - but they seemed standard fare - the usual crème brulée-type options and the omnipresent pot au chocolats for the addicts. I will also watch with interest to see whether the menu ever changes.

I didn't dare ask for any wine advice - there didn't seem to be an obvious sommelier on duty - whose opinion I'd normally ask for a tricky combination of white fish and beef. So we plumped for a red Sancerre - light and fresh, but not, perhaps, worth the £38.50 they were charging for it. Frankly, I'd preferred the bog-standard Viognier I'd had with the first course at 3.95 a glass.

I am still in the dark as to the tipping policy at the Spread Eagle. I asked our waiter about the service charge but his English was so poor he couldn't make himself understood. We decided to send back the bill and get the service charge removed so that we could give cash as a precaution, and the guy in charge came to speak to us. He tried hard to explain, but I still don't get it. It seems to be ok but it's difficult to be absolutely sure. More research is needed.

Much as I hate to say it, the Spread Eagle is still the best restaurant in town. It's not going to get any Michelin stars in the near future, but the food is good, tasty (if somewhat unexpected sometimes) and well-presented. The place itself looks fantastic and it's worth a visit if only for those paintings. If I were visiting for the first time and hadn't known what was there before I'd say it was wonderful. It's only with the benefit of knowing what was there before that you get the slightest uncomfortable feeling that something has been lost...

Check out Andrew Gilligan's review in the Standard for another resident's view of things.


Oh - and that sink's still there upstairs in the ladies' loo...

The Fishmonger Ltd

Trafalgar Rd

So. Here it is at last, and very pleased many of us are to see actual quality fooderies finally coming to East Greenwich - aw- c'mon - it's hardly far for you Westerners to trudge across the park in your green wellies and barbours... ;0)

It's all clean and bright, and though some of the shop has a distinctly "unfinished" feel to it - there's a tantalising Global knife cupboard and price list but no knives and several empty shelves in the display cabinet, I guess the main priority is to get the place open - niceties come later.

The one area which WAS absolutely stuffed to the gills (oops - sorry...) was the main event - the fish counter. Julian, one half of the young couple who are bravely setting out in the pescatorial world, is just getting himself acclimatised to the daily 4.00am visit to Billingsgate - there are no dark circles under the eyes yet, but with opening hours that currently go to 7.00pm, that will only be a matter of time. He confessed that he had been nervous that Billingsgate would be having an "off day" on Fishmonger's debut, but from what I could see, his worries had been for naught. There was a fine display - from eye-bright bream to shiny monkfish, giant king scallops to scarlet sashimi tuna, all beautifully arranged on the classic bed of ice.

Elsewhere in the shop are lemons, limes and fresh herbs in wooden crates and racks with spices and dressings. There are various cookbooks - some of which are clearly for sale, others - vintage, by the look of it, are more for getting ideas from. I am sure that as the shop matures, it will fill out with other accoutrements.

As you go in, there's a gorgeous old vintage dining table stacked with crusty bread, which has been locally sourced (not, I am glad to say, from Greggs...) fish kettles and other paraphernalia. It also has a collection of "Fishmonger Ltd" bits and bobs - good to get in there quick with the merchandise, I always say. You can get reclaimed hardwood chopping boards with the Fishmonger Ltd logo stamped discreetly in the corner (make sure you scrub that bit well, eh?) and some snazzy Fishmonger aprons so you don't get guts down your gut.

Of course you don't need to get anywhere near guts if you don't want to. Julian gutted and scaled my fish for me while I (and, ahem, a bit of a queue behind me) waited. I am sure it will speed up with time - and it was beautifully done. Presumably his partner will come in for busy times - once they know when those will be - at the moment the opening hours are long, but they intend to revise them once they've been open for a while.

They plan to have tasting sessions and fishy-type classes - I hope they do this soon. I've suggested they get together with Theatre of Wine for occasional evening sessions - champagne and oysters, anyone? They should also put suggested wine at the bottom of their recipe cards, IMHO. Incidentally, don't miss the lovely marine-inspired display in Theatre of Wine just now, created, presumably, to welcome the new kids on the block...

I've just realised that this reads a bit like one of the advertorial articles in local rags that I'm always going on about how much I hate. This is pretty much unavoidable just now - the place is so new I can't really say much other than the fish is good and the rest looks as though it will come given a few weeks. I'll revisit in those few weeks to give a more detailed critique...


Update: This shop goes from strength to strangth. They are friendly, helpful people, doing their best to make a truly exciting business. It's now full of shelves of itneresting foods, equipment and books - not to mention a giant bowl of daffodils. This has already become one of

The Phantom's Favourite Haunts

The Fishmonger Ltd

Trafalgar Rd

So. Here it is at last, and very pleased many of us are to see actual quality fooderies finally coming to East Greenwich - aw- c'mon - it's hardly far for you Westerners to trudge across the park in your green wellies and barbours... ;0)

It's all clean and bright, and though some of the shop has a distinctly "unfinished" feel to it - there's a tantalising Global knife cupboard and price list but no knives and several empty shelves in the display cabinet, I guess the main priority is to get the place open - niceties come later.

The one area which WAS absolutely stuffed to the gills (oops - sorry...) was the main event - the fish counter. Julian, one half of the young couple who are bravely setting out in the pescatorial world, is just getting himself acclimatised to the daily 4.00am visit to Billingsgate - there are no dark circles under the eyes yet, but with opening hours that currently go to 7.00pm, that will only be a matter of time. He confessed that he had been nervous that Billingsgate would be having an "off day" on Fishmonger's debut, but from what I could see, his worries had been for naught. There was a fine display - from eye-bright bream to shiny monkfish, giant king scallops to scarlet sashimi tuna, all beautifully arranged on the classic bed of ice.

Elsewhere in the shop are lemons, limes and fresh herbs in wooden crates and racks with spices and dressings. There are various cookbooks - some of which are clearly for sale, others - vintage, by the look of it, are more for getting ideas from. I am sure that as the shop matures, it will fill out with other accoutrements.

As you go in, there's a gorgeous old vintage dining table stacked with crusty bread, which has been locally sourced (not, I am glad to say, from Greggs...) fish kettles and other paraphernalia. It also has a collection of "Fishmonger Ltd" bits and bobs - good to get in there quick with the merchandise, I always say. You can get reclaimed hardwood chopping boards with the Fishmonger Ltd logo stamped discreetly in the corner (make sure you scrub that bit well, eh?) and some snazzy Fishmonger aprons so you don't get guts down your gut.

Of course you don't need to get anywhere near guts if you don't want to. Julian gutted and scaled my bream for me while I (and, ahem, a bit of a queue behind me) waited. I am sure it will speed up with time - and it was beautifully done. Presumably his partner will come in for busy times - once they know when those will be - at the moment the opening hours are long, but they intend to revise them once they've been open for a while.

They plan to have tasting sessions and fishy-type classes - I hope they do this soon. My bream was a total disaster - and I pride myself on my culinary skills. The fish itself was fabulous - only I could have made the pig's ear of it that I did. I've suggested they get together with Theatre of Wine for occasional evening sessions - champagne and oysters, anyone? They should also put suggested wine at the bottom of their recipe cards, IMHO. Incidentally, don't miss the lovely marine-inspired display in Theatre of Wine just now, created, presumably, to welcome the new kids on the block...

I've just realised that this reads a bit like one of the advertorial articles in local rags that I'm always going on about how much I hate. This is pretty much unavoidable just now - the place is so new I can't really say much other than the fish is good and the rest looks as though it will come given a few weeks. I'll revisit in those few weeks to give a more detailed critique...

Glenister Green

Woolwich Road

This has to be one of the wierdest open spaces in the area. Surrounded on three sides by housing, edged by the "iconic" (ahem) Mr Fast Fry and every inch of it clearly visible from the road, it is, inexplicably, one of the creepiest parks I know of.

I have definitely never ventured in, for a very good reason, which I will explain in a moment, but I walk past it on a regular basis and I can now confirm that I have NEVER SEEN ANYONE ELSE IN THERE EITHER. I have a theory about that too.

Could it be because it's poorly lit? Certainly not. It was part of the grand "improvements" of East Greenwich which I suspect somebody's Section 106 paid for, and which gave it random paths (I went to the "consultation - ha-bloody-ha - and listened to the "consultant" who designed it talking about what the paths all meant - the usual arty bullshit which makes you nod in puzzled agreement at the time and think "what the bloody hell was that all about" later.) As far as I can make out, the paths make people walk in specific directions which deliberately avoid the quickest route so they can enjoy the open space, which frankly gives more of a labyrinthine feel than any kind of pleasure of the countryside.

The consultant also gave it copious lighting - halogen, which are very low and directional - presumably to prevent light pollution, which I am actually very much in favour of. The "transformation is completed with suspicious-looking litter bins and the re-erected mural that used to be on the wall of Greenwich District Hospital. I'm all for saving it - and am glad to see it back, but they've put it together again with such gaps between the panels that it has an odd, disjointed feel about it. They've saved the trees, the place's best (read "only") feature but there is no grass - merely large patches of ankle-height weeds, which are at least green.

It's taken me a long while to work out exactly why I find this place so eerie - especially when it is SO visible and SO well-lit. Then it struck me - it's the transformation itself that's done it. There's something deeply unhealthy about those low pools of street light - where anything can happen - where you could find yourself, not being able to see beyond the light into the darkness, swallowed up into some nightmarish vision - a parallel Universe of Doom.

If I were to walk in there might I reach some kind of mythical centre and disappear for ever into a dimensional timeshift bigger than the one in Cardiff? Could I one day actually witness an unsuspecting stranger walking through the park and suddenly disappear off the face of the earth or even spontaneously combust? I calm myself with the thought that no one would voluntarily walk into this trap.

I guess it's possible that Glenister Green doesn't exist at all - that it's a hologram - hiding a portal to another world. Perhaps that mural is merely a cover for a control panel - press the sailor's duffle bag and you'll find yourself on the operating table of a visiting alien ship.

I find it hard to believe that anywhere as small, weedy and, well - visible - could be so sinister but somehow that place makes my blood run cold. And I can't be alone in this - no one goes there. You might think it would be a meeting ground for the local youth - but even they steer clear. One of these days I will, saveloy in hand, lie in wait in Mr Fast Fry watching for unsuspecting mothers with pushchairs, men with dogs or teenagers with spraycans to walk into the Venus Flytrap that is Glenister Green. If I see them come out again, whole and un-gibbering, I will feel it is safe to venture in myself. If they disappear before my very eyes I will become a full-time conspiracy theorist and start staking out the Superloo next to the Cutty Sark. Only if I hear grating sounds and see a police box materialise under those halogen lamps I will relax.

Until then there is something deeply wrong down Woolwich Road. I intend to keep walking on the other side of the main road, well away from those innocent park railings and creepy pools of harsh neon light.

The post office opposite has just been refurbished - I am told there is to be a basement "internet café." A likely story. It's clearly the public front of the Greenwich branch of Torchwood monitoring the activity at Glenister Green.

Pegga Stores

Blcakheath Royal Standard

What a strange little shop. It's quite clearly been here since The Ark and is run by a delightful little old lady who seems to have stepped out of another world. The shop itself is old fashioned - you don't literally step down into it, but it feels as if you do. You are greeted with a discreet musty, damp smell and the murmuring sound of other old ladies already in there discussing their ailments. This is clearly a meeting place and one of those disappearing things - a pillar of the community.

It stands in the same row as the exemplary Standard DIY, sandwiching an ever-growing parade of estate agents - what IS it about estate agents that makes them breed like rabbits, blotting out the very "village community" that they are trying to peddle? But back to Pegga Stores. Inside, there are glass cabinets and stands, all ever-so-slightly hap-hazard - as if over the years attempts have been made to modernise and then been given up in favour of tradition.

So what does it sell? Good question. I guess it's greetings cards, though as with so many shops of this kind, it's never QUITE obvious, even though you are surrounded by pieces of colourful folded paper. The selection is surprisingly good - a lot of Medici and classic-looking quality cards; virtually no nasty joke ones. I bought a gorgeous old-fashioned advent calendar (of the only proper variety - no chocolate) for my sister just before Christmas, and couldn't resist buying the cute greetings-card prints of Old Greenwich at the same time.

Stripey-awninged and discreetly omnipresent, this is the sort of shop that only really exists today in old Ealing comedies. I am delighted to see it is there - but beware -if we don't patronise it, one day we will wake up and it won't be...

...the Invasion of the Estate Agents will be complete...

The Trafalgar Tavern

The Trafalgar is an imposing building indeed. Beautifully Regency in design and a real landmark if you're travelling down the river. It's one of Greenwich's most famous buildings and has been so for literally centuries.

Dickens wrote about its whitebait suppers with equal amounts of joy and misery "There is no next morning hangover like that which follows a Greenwich dinner" he grimly noted - presumably with his head upside down in the new-fangled water closet. He mentions it with a little more decorum in "Our Mutual Friend."

The Victorians loved it - and the entire cabinet would meet in the upstairs rooms of the Trafalgar (well the Liberals, anyway - the Torys preferred the Ship) and guzzle whitebait whilst discussing affairs of state. Artists adored its classical looks - there are several famous paintings either of the place itself or the view from it.

It's floodlit at night and there are few pleasanter places to spend a lazy summer evening outside, chomping goodies from the barbeque, even given the creepy new sculpture of Nelson, which resembles a curiously well-endowed amphibian.

The Tavern's still in pretty good nick inside too, though in my opinion it has lost a lot of the joy it used to have in favour of being a tourist trap and venue for dull corporate events.

Downstairs the original iron stoves and huge fireplaces are offset by big squashy armchairs (almost impossible to find an empty space in one of these) and the giant bay windows afford splendid views of the river (it's almost impossible to find a space there, too.) The restaurant part is adorned with maritime portraits, mainly of Nelson and his captains, though a bust of the man himself was stolen a year or so ago. A reward for its recovery still stands.

Upstairs there's a fabulous ballroom, complete with columns and giant chandeliers. There's also the Admiral's bar - much more intimate and very cute indeed.

The food's ok, though please bear in mind that this is a Greenwich Inc. establishment so always ask your waiter about the tipping policy. The fish and chips are not as good as next door in The Yacht, though this is offset by the surroundings at the Trafalgar. If you can deal with the environmentalist guilt, you can even still buy whitebait.

Since Greenwich Inc took over, live music has virtually ceased at The Trafalgar, save for the odd "special" night that they've been embarrassed into. I remember when there was a jazz club every week (well-attended) and sundry classical recitals. Forget that - it clearly doesn't bring in enough cash for Greenwich Inc.

Nowadays the only way you're really going to get any interesting entertainment is by hiring the venue yourself, and you had better start saving NOW. It is seriously pricey - a friend of mine recently looked into a party there for his 40th Birthday. He was prepared to push the boat out - and he's not short of a quid or two, believe me, but even he went off with his tail between his legs. Your best bet is to ingratiate yourself with a dull city financial institution or tedious ad agency and blag yourself into their do, though all I can guarantee is the view - the entertainment might not be so much fun...

Bellot's Obelisk

When Sir John Franklin got lost trying to find hte North West Passage, many column inches were taken by the newspapers of the day postulating where he may have become lost - and as to whether he was still alive. Lady Franklin was, understandably, beside herself with worry. Several expeditions tried and failed to find the party, under atrocious conditions and with very little equipment.

A dashing young Frenchman, Joseph Rene Bellot, joined an expedition that Lady Franklin put together in 1851/2, whose courage and bravery was hailed as exceptional. He died in 1853, falling under some ice in Wellington Channel, and such was the public outpouring of sympathy for his feats and fate that £2,000 was raised by public subscription for a memorial. £1500 of this was sent to his sisters, and £500 spent on an obelisk designed by Philip Hardwick and placed in a sleepy, shady corner of Greenwich's Thames path, sandwiched between the Old Royal Naval College's railings and the river Thames, one of only two obelisks on the river (I'm not really counting the one just outside the Pepys centre - it's not actually "on" the river) - and certainly the only memorial to a Frenchman I know of on the Thames...

It's a fine obelisk and is overlooked by shady plane trees. There are plenty of benches under it which make it a fine place to eat your M&S sandwich whilst enjoying the river views, which, depending on tide are either accompanied by a gently lapping sound as the waters end just below the railings or adorned by a selection of shopping trolleys and old tyres on the mudflats. If it's during term time, you will also be serenaded by a cacophony of music students practising hard in their cells, which is actually much more pleasant than it sounds.

Franklin himself, by the way, is celebrated in the Explorers section of the National Maritime Museum.

The Cheeseboard

A tiny little jewel of a shop which always has a good selection of different cheeses of the world (France features heavily) and one or two on the counter to taste. Their website boasts over 100 specially-sourced individually-made examples - though only a fraction of this is on display at any one time - probably a good thing with cheeses like Munster which has to be one of the smelliest fromages of Eastern France. The cheese is usually of perfectly good quality - though I once bought a Mimoulette - admittedly a hard cheese - that was so solid that it was totally inedible - a shame since it's a particular favourite of mine.

It's a bit pricey - but that's only to be expected of something so specialist - and geographically placed. Royal Hill rents must be astronomical. You can get some good crackers to go with it and they also do a limited selection of Meantime Brewery Beer and other nibbles, pickles, jams and other cheese-related goodies. The shop always seems to be bursting at the seams with customers whenever I go.

Princess Caroline's Bath

It was no secret that the Prince Regent (later to become George IV) and his wife, Princess Caroline of Brunswick, didn't get on. He hated the sight of her - though frankly he was no oil painting himself - and banished her off to the country so he could continue his philandering in peace. To get her own back, she started to live it up at her new gaff in Greenwich, Montague House - now flattened and back to being part of the Royal Park and managed to get herself 'a bit of a reputation' into the bargain...

Right from the start she was well aware that she wasn't considered "the right kind of gel" in royal circles. When the Earl of Malmsbury travelled to Brunswick to collect her in the first place he had described her as dowdy, stockily built, coarsely-spoken and washing so little as to be "malodorous." George had only agreed to marry his cousin for her cash anyway. She had arrived in Greenwich to find that far from actually greeting her himself, he'd sent his mistress to pick her up - and even she was late. As soon as he set eyes on her, the indelicate prince declared himself sick and called for some brandy. After the briefest of polite consummations while she conceived Princess Charlotte, Caroline was packed off back to Greenwich.

She held parties and soirees - very daring affairs at which she apparently wore rather less than the going amount of clothing - and at which all manner of saucy events occurred. She even had a giant bath made (at a time when few people washed at all) and threw a few bashes in that too. George became so angry (jealous, perhaps, that she was having a better time than him??) that he razed the palace to the ground, and sent her packing.

In a beautiful irony, however, the woman whose chief fault in George's eyes was that she smelled, lives on in Greenwich, the people of which never stopped secretly rather liking this scarlet woman who brought a bit of fun to the area. The sole remaining part of Caroline's palace is that salacious bath, situated in the southwest corner wall of the park, near Ranger's House. A fabulous sunken affair, complete with steps leading down into it, for many years it was filled-in and used as a rather unsubtle flowerbed, until as part of the millennium celebrations, those good burghers of Greenwich, the Friends of Greenwich Park, excavated it and it is, at last restored to a dignity which it may never have had in life.

The Gypsy Moth

The GYPSY MOTH


Sadly the real Gypsy Moth (The Gypsy Moth IV to be exact) was looked after so badly while it resided next door to the Cutty Sark that it had to be carted away to be restored before it fell to pieces completely. A great shame, since Queen Elizabeth II had knighted its skipper, Sir Francis Chichester, in Greenwich after his record-breaking sail around the world in 1966/7 with the same sword with which Queen Elizabeth I had knighted Sir Francis Drake some 400 years earlier. But hey. We obviously can't be trusted to look after our toys and it has been taken away from us. Maybe that will be a lesson to us to keep supporting the Cutty Sark restoration before we lose that too.

By the way, I recently met the guy who bought the Gypsy Moth IV, and was relieved to hear that its days of decline are over. Paul Lister, heir to the MFI fortune, bought her for a pound and a gin and tonic in the way that eccentrics toffs do and restored her completely. He formed a charity to help kids learn to sail and now she is once again sailing the seven seas, this time with a somewhat younger crew. His new project is to reintroduce bears and wolves to the Scottish Highlands. Hurrah for eccentric toffs...

In Greenwich, meanwhile, The Gypsy Moth is remembered in the name of the pub nearest her old mooring. Because of its proximity to all the tourist sites this noisy pub gets very full indeed in the summer months despite - or perhaps because of - a boisterous beer garden at the back. Not the place to go for a cosy chat - but great fun if you're with a bunch of mates out for a drink and a laugh in a good atmosphere. It serves food too - but to be honest I've never tried it. I hear it's bog-standard pub fare.

I was sad to see the death of the coins, medals and memorabilia shop next door. This seemed to have been there for ever, its display of military helmets, old toy cars and dusty medal ribbons quietly sitting in this unassuming little store. To my shame I never went inside - it was just always there - something to go in and browse next time. Clearly I wasn't alone in this - one day I walked past and realised it was gone. I felt an almost palpable sadness - and a slight pang of guilt. If we don't visit these quaint little shops and patronise them with more than a nod and a smile, then we'll lose them and our town centre will end up some kind of theme park - like Covent Garden and Carnaby Street have become - the little quirky stores which made them great forced out by chain stores wanting a piece of the action, leaving them mere caricatures of the places they once were.

The Art Deco shop Decomania, recently suffered the same fate. Frankly I never went in because I was intimidated by the swankiness of it all - I couldn't have afforded a single item - but I mourn its passing all the same. I must make a mental note to visit these one-offs on a regular basis...

Greenwich Dance Agency

Greenwich Dance Agency

More a dance facility than somewhere that does performances as such, the GDA nevertheless programmes a few, mainly contemporary, dance events. Sited in the old Art Deco Borough Hall at the bottom of Royal Hill, its main purpose is to provide classes for amateurs and professionals alike. They do drop-in classes in subjects such as Egyptian and Flamenco dance, as well as yoga and contemporary and proper courses in everything from pilates to capoeira. There's also daily professional classes and specialist teachers for the real enthusiasts. Being the world's most unfit person, I keep meaning to go and never making it - my excuse being that their lindy class was full by the time I came to book it and since that's the only form of dancing I enjoy I'll "wait for the next time..." Pathetic, really....

Standard DIY

Blackheath Royal Standard

God how I love this shop. The Blackheath Royal Standard used to be a fantastic shopping centre; now it's very definitely in decline. Only time will tell if the new M&S Food store will change things for better or worse, but for the moment only about four shops are really worth making much of a detour for.

Standard DIY is one of them. It takes up, in total, probably the floorspace of one aisle of B&Q but has more stuff that you'd actually want than all of the superstore's massive but unexciting stock.

It's a PROPER hardware store. You can buy a plastic bucket or a broom from outside, of course, but if you venture in, you'll find DIY heaven. The phrase "Aladdin's Cave" has been used to buggery but this really does merit the description. There are those lovely old fashioned trays of bits and bobs like screws and nails and springs and fittings which, if they're in B&Q at all, you have to buy in a shrink-wrapped pack of 6 when you need 3. There are racks and hooks and shelves, full of stuff you will probably need someday, however un-handy you might be. It might be a tad more expensive than B&Q but you'll make up for it by buying the exact amount you actually need, and getting the right thing first time.

The superstores have large quantities of very bog standard stuff, but if you actually look at their stock, there's a lot of bulk rather than variety. Standard DIY has a little of a lot of stuff.

The service is extremely helpful and friendly and they'll go out of their way to find what you're exactly looking for. They also do key-cutting.

This week, Standard DIY have been able to supply (where B&Q failed, which meant several wasted journeys - why did I keep bothering?) the following:

9 specialised hooks,
5 small s-shaped hooks
Some glue with a rude name

and, today, a Christmas tree, which I will be putting up this afternoon. Next year I won't bother taking the car, though - they deliver...

Hooray for Standard DIY. The great thing is that not only do they give better service than the superstores, they actually manage to stock stuff the superstores don't carry. This isn't a case of supporting the little guy - it's a case of going there because THEY'RE BETTER.

Thai Chung

Nelson Rd

There are two Thai Restaurants in the dead centre of Greenwich and this is "the other one." It's sweet enough - situated in the little Regency parade that backs onto the Market, and thus complete with little bow windows and classic Thai accoutrements such as gilded masks, screens and potted plants in the windows. The décor is not overdone - and the bit at the back is surprisingly light and airy.

Service is delightful and eager, and the food not bad, though a good deal hotter (spice-wise) than I had expected. I had my usual benchmark Thai Green Curry and my companion their red one, and the pair of us guzzled fishcakes and spring rolls as starters. It was pleasant enough but not outstanding, and by the time I had got half way through my main course the perspiration appeared in little beads across my forehead from the chilli and I knew I wasn't going to finish it. More water was ordered* - but that night my diet didn't suffer too much...

It's a nice little place - not the best, not the worst...

*Okay, okay, I know water isn't what you should take when you've overdosed on chilli - it just always seems mighty appealing at the time...

La Salumeria

Situated on a rather scruffy bit of Trafalgar Rd opposite the Forum, La Salumeria has been around for donkeys years and looks like it. It's very much of the "old school" of delis - a tiny, crammed little gem of a place, where cheeses and sausages dangle from the ceiling and packets of pasta and strange-looking tins of god-knows-what jostle for position on the floor. In between, the shelves are stuffed full of packets and jars - mainly Italian, but between them incorporating pretty much all the European languages known to Man. Behind the counter you can find home-made pesto sauce, cheeses, hams and meats, some breads, sweeties and salads. At the back a rather perfunctory wine selection sits gloomily waiting for someone to claim it, but down the front there's a marvellous box of Turkish delight that has my name stamped all over it.

At Easter there's a fabulous selection of colourfully-wrapped chocolate eggs and sweets, bettered only by the display at Christmas where not only the window, but the whole ceiling fills with hanging tins and boxes of pannetone, ameretti, turron and various other sweetmeats. I want to buy them all just for the packaging, which may explain the full-state of my place.

It's a funny, tatty and utterly delightful little shop and I love it.

Kum Luang

There are two Thai restaurants in Central Greenwich but this is the one to go for. It's not the very best Thai food I've ever had by a long chalk, but it's consistently decent, solid stuff, nicely presented in classic surroundings by friendly staff.

It's quite a large restaurant for Greenwich, with all the usual trappings - carved wooden screens, dancers headdresses, fans, silk wall hangings, etc - no funky modernism here, thank you very much. The bar has a fake wooden roofy-thing over it, and the diminutive waitresses wear traditional costume. Some seats are a little close together and personally I prefer the back of the first room for comfort. If the place is empty, and you want the back corner seat (easily the best for people-watching later) then don't brook arguments that it's full.

There are the classic nice little touches like flowers with your starter and prawn crackers while you choose your meal, and the dishes are generally milder than many I have had in other places, but none the worse for that - who wants to have their mouth numb by the third mouthful? The wine is actually very good for a Thai restaurant, too. So often it's a bit of an afterthought, but here you can get a reasonable bottle of bog-standard Chardonnay, for example, which won't taste like malt vinegar.

All in all, it really isn't bad as a meal choice, and we often end up there when we're looking for something uncomplicated, unchallenging and reasonably quick. Probably one of my most visited in Greenwich.

Buenos Aires

Yet another Royal Hill Lovely, Buenos Aires is one of those trendy modern delis - bright, cosy and full of splendidly luxurious fripperies. With black and white photographs and a rack hanging from the ceiling with swinging pots and pans, it's self-consicously cool - but no harm in that, I always say.

They specialise in Argentinian food, but carry brands from other countries too. I always buy my Dulce de Leche there (literally Sweet Milk - known as Confiture du Lait or "milk jam" in France, both of which are fabulous. You can get much the same result by boiling a tin of condensed milk for hours on end,, but generally life's too short.) There's some nice specialist teas, too, and they sell decent coffee (though I buy mine from Union Coffee Roasters across the river - sorry, guys.)

To be honest I don't buy much else - it's really rather pricey for me to do anything other than buy luxuries - oh for the ability to do my 'normal' shopping at these places, but I like to meet girlfriends there for a cup of coffee and a cake, lounging around in the cosy leather armchairs and sofas that take up most of the shop. Recently it's become a bit full of "yummy mummies" for my taste, but I guess they have to go somewhere. I just wish they'd leave their sodding pushchairs outside.

Buenos Aires do the odd piece of specialist cooking equipment, mate tea and sundry cookery books and they're a good bet for presents for foodie friends. Around Christmas time they do utterly gorgeous hampers which I have been hinting about for a good couple of years now, to no avail.

Marks & Spencer (Cutty Sark)

An insanely busy food-only store next to the Cutty Sark plaza. It sells all the usual M&S favourites - good for day trippers or lazy people like me (try the caramel shortbread squares - utterly divine - better, even, than many deli 'home-made' versions, IMHO) but expect to queue longer than it took you to get to Greenwich in the first place. Nowhere near enough tills - often the queue stretches round at least half, sometimes more of the shop, though at least the assistants greet you with an apologetic, if beleaguered smile.

The rest of the bit around Cutty Sark DLR is a huge disappointment - Ottakars excepting - a horrid, horrid pub, a mobile phone store, a tatty Superdrug which always looks like it's in the middle of a stocktake, one of those vile Subway fast food outlets and a cash machine which steals your money, then nabs your card.

They are opening another M&S Food at Blackheath Standard where Somerfield has just closed (causing much parking chaos, BTW - beware.) I hope that's not the kiss of death for the lovely butchers and bakers.

"Sleeping Beauty" (Oh, No it isn't)

It's panto time again!

Last night, as I do every year, I went to Greenwich Theatre's latest offering to the festive gods. Usually a whole bunch of us go and it signals the beginning of the Christmas season.

Actually, after last year I hadn't intended to bother with this one - I had been very disappointed with the production.

I had been sad to see London Bubble stop doing the panto at Greenwich - "artistic differences" was the reason quoted. Bubble's rough-and ready style doesn't always hit the mark - and sometimes the miss is quite wide - but it's always interesting. I used to particularly love the dame who made no effort whatsoever to be anything other than a bloke in a dress and was all the funnier for it, but other bits were often rather lame in the director's quest not to "do panto" - apparently he hates the medium and spent most of his time trying to create anything other than good old fashioned fun - which in my book is a shame. Panto is what it is and that's it.

I was very pleased to see that the replacement company was to be Natural Theatre. Which made my disappointment last year double. Perhaps, I thought afterwards, I had been expecting too much - after all Natural Theatre was one of my favourite theatre companies when I was a student and many years later, memories of people wearing flower pots instead of heads and productions such as Scarlatti's Birthday and Eat Me had possibly warped to unattainable brilliance in my mind. But the script was poor, the Dame wasn't the indomitable Ralph Oswick but some bloke who wished he was Eddie Izzard and wasn't and the whole thing was very lacklustre. Only Abanazer was any good.

So I took the precaution this year of getting really rather drunk before seeing the show. I needn't have bothered. This year's show is everything last year's wasn't. It's slick, fast-paced, funny, silly, tuneful and good to look at. The performances are spot-on - especially that of Paul Critoph as the King (just wonderful - a literally-rounded, jolly Ole King Cole of a performance which made me smile whenever he was onstage) and Andrew Pollard as Nanny Fanny - clearly a very experienced dame - and writer. Even the leads - usually thankless wet roles- were sparky and fun. Lots of good effects and appropriate songs - not performed to death - and fun for kiddies and adults in equal measure. I particularly liked the good fairy singing "holding out for a hero" and the rude banana gag. I inwardly groaned when the obligatory "lovers' song" began, but ended up laughing the most at the naughty upstaging that the rest of the cast indulged in mercilessly behind the hapless pair.

Just in case it seems that I may have had my judgement impaired, I brought along several friends who were driving and therefore drinking very responsibly indeed - and they loved it too - even the curmudgeon who normally hates panto.

Seriously folks. Grab a kid (or a kid-at-heart) and see this show. It's fabulous.

Café Rouge

What can I say about Café Rouge? It's a chain - and if you know that particular chain then you'll know the Greenwich one.

All the same classic Café Rouge trademarks - but none the worse for that. It's one of the very few chains that I don't utterly hate - it has its place - and the food is always pretty ok - if not wildly exciting. The menu never changes of course, but sometimes that's useful - if you're in a hurry you can just order your "usual" for speed. It's a handy place to keep in mind if you're not going out especially to eat, but are looking for a reasonable option before or after, say, the theatre or Picturehouse (definitely better than the Tapas bar in the Picturehouse - the only bit I really don't like about the place.)

This particular branch is HUGE - occupying virtually the whole ground of a corner building also containing the truly unexciting Ibis Hotel (when are we going to get a really classy hotel in these parts?) It's a handy place to meet, especially in summer where you can sit outside on the veranda with a glass of wine, enjoy the view of St Alfeges churchyard, The Mitre's windowboxes and the nose-to-nose traffic. You will get a dose of carbon monoxide and the guy on the next table's cigarette smoke too, but that's modern Greenwich for you.

The staff are friendly (and often actually from France - I had no idea there were so many French people in Greenwich,) the service pretty good, the food not bad and the décor suitably Français, if just a little mass-produced in feel. I really like the corporately mis-matched glass wall lights myself - a nice touch.

You're never going to be original if you're a chain, but Café Rouge is really quite ok for all that, and its close proximity to the bit of the market which is threatened (the antiques bit) makes it a popular choice for bargain hunters of a weekend, when it can get a little busy.

Flying Duck Enterprises

One of the quirky independent shops which lulls visitors into the mistaken idea that Greenwich is actually full of them. In the great blur of splendid one-off boutiques like Flying Duck and others in that particular parade on the corner of Creek Road, I meet people - usually occasional "Sunday" visitors - who fantasise that Greenwich could hold its own with Islington, Marylebone High St or ditsy places like Chelsea or Dulwich Village.

Sadly this is very much an illusion, as those of us who actually live here know to our great chagrin - we don't have that many truly fabulous emporia - and we live in constant danger of losing what gorgeous independents we have to dismal chain stores if we don't support them. My own personal dislikes are the nasty chain stores that masquerade as quirky - the Accessorises and Octopuses of this world - the ones which lure us in with the promise that we can find something unusual but are really just enormous conglomerates peddling mass-produced tat made by exploited third world workers at inflated prices.

But I was going to talk about Flying Duck (how did I get so distracted????)

This mad little store is stuffed full of both high - and low - quality kitsch - original and new stuff. You can buy an original Beatles handbag, a Matt Munro album or a lava lamp, chilli fairy lights, plastic dancing hula-skirted maidens for your car's dashboard, nasty orange melamine picnic ware for your camper van or a set of nudie shot glasses for your padded cocktail bar. It's not to everyone's taste - but it tickles mine - and if I didn't live with someone who thinks that chandeliers in the kitchen are rather daring, the whole house would be full of Flying Duck nonsense. Oh - and if I had rather more money than I actually do. I didn't say Flying Duck was cheap.

But I love to step inside, past the dodgy 70s furniture and the plastic beady curtains and browse through an entire album's worth of The Beach Boys before buying an original 50s postcard for a friend's birthday or a set of Hawaiian coasters to smuggle into the living room. Kitsch is a fine art - and so many (especially the "quirky chains") get it wrong. Flying Duck gets it right - and long may they continue to stamp their particular brand of enjoyable junk upon Creek Road.

Greenwich Printmakers' Gallery

You need never be stuck for a present again. This little co-op of local and slightly-further-afield artists has a wide selection of limited edition prints to please most tastes. Staffed on a rota basis by the artists themselves, the little shop is well-lit and nicely set out, so that you can flip through a certain amount of prints and if you like the style of a particular artist, you can ask the assistant to open a relevant drawer containing more of that artist's work.

Prices are realistic - not dirt cheap so you won't appreciate the work, not stupidly extortionate either, and if nothing else it makes a lovely place to visit from time to time just to see what's new.

The Rose and Crown

A boisterous, busy, mainly gay bar which isn't anti-straight. A pub along traditional lines, this is warm, welcoming and friendly. I've always found it a good - if rather smoky - bar, and never failed to have a good time. The Rose & Crown doesn't do food - but the atmosphere hots up as the evening progresses - so definitely one to go to later on.

Compendia

Compendia is one of those little independent shops that make Greenwich market a little different. Selling traditional games and puzzles, this is a toyshop that has bypassed the modern world of Playstation and Gameboy and harks back to gentler times with a wide selection of boardgames and jigsaws. They stock all the obvious, of course - your Monopolies and your Backgammons, your Cluedos and your Risks, but they also cater for the slightly more specialist boardgame enthusiast with modern classics such as Ticket to Ride, Alhambra, Pueto Rico, Citadels and my personal favourite, the Settlers of Catan card game.

There's an equally wide choice of jigsaw and other puzzles, basic "bits" and components - no need to worry if you've lost the "men" from Snakes and Ladders - nicely-made wooden games and, of course, a huge selection of poker gear and classic playing cards. Generally they're very knowledgeable about what's going on in the games scene but they don't always have an up-to-date selection if you're a dedicated gamer. If they haven't got what you want they will order it for you - though the last time I did that, they actually forgot to tell me that the game I'd ordered was in - the first thing I knew about it was when I passed by and saw it in the window...

Generally, if you're a massive gamer, this won't be quite as exceptional as the major games stores in town - but most people will find something good there - and I always look inside whenever I go to the market. Long may they survive.

East Greenwich Pleasaunce and Friends

Yesterday we went to a rather sweet little event at the East Greenwich Pleasaunce, - carols in the park with mulled wine, mince pies and Father Christmas, who turned up in a tinsel-covered sports car. It was rather low-key, of course - the FEGP are very new – but it will get bigger, I hope - it was sort of fun in a "local carols for local people" kind of way. The "male voice choir," not one under the age of 900, was festively dressed in Victorian garb, and though they didn't seem too sure of any of the words, or indeed the tunes, it was all very seasonal. Kiddies queued up in pretty much equal numbers to see Santa or sit in his decorated car - almost a bigger draw than the Man Himself. Admittedly we didn't last very long - two cups of mulled wine, to be precise, but it's important to support events like this, and we might have stayed longer had we not both trodden in dog crap, which somewhat dulled the atmosphere.

East Greenwich Pleasance

It's a funny little park - surrounded by Annadale Road to the West, the railway to the South, Chevening Road to the North and Halstow to the East. It was the overspill cemetery for the old naval hospital and there are still about 3,000 seamen buried there (including veterans of Trafalgar and The Crimea,) under great slabs of Victorian gravestone in the shape of anchors, rope etc. It's got a fab old wall around the outside, which has what's left of a row of pollarded limes around it - sadly they're not very well thanks to the long hot summers we've been having. There's a small kiddies playground and a couple of areas where dogs aren't allowed though you still need to look out for your feet - it's Dog-crap City in places, as we regularly found during a rare outburst of keep-fit activity and started trying to run every morning in the park (that lasted an, ahem, limited time.)

There's supposed to be a lot of wildlife there but apart from the ubiquitous squirrels, foxes and the odd garden bird, I've not really seen that much. The main gate is in Chevening Road, with some rather splendid iron railings (don't be fooled by the big gates looking closed - they usually only open the side one,) and another more recent one provided by one of those fab Section 106 agreements which forces local developers to give something back to the community at the railway end of Halstow Road. Occasionally the council forgets to open this one, so if the park is open but these are closed, it's worth reminding them. If they're not reminded, they tend to treat EGP as a bit of a poor relation to the bigger Well Hall Pleasaunce in Eltham. Pah.

Friends of East Greenwich Pleasaunce

Well - it's pretty obvious really - they're a bunch of local people who encourage "the use and enhancement of East Greenwich Pleasaunce." They're quite new – only inaugurated in 2006 - but they have big ideas - a cafe and - heavens above - working toilets, and they have little events from time to time. Maybe because they're new, maybe because they're small or maybe because they're not involved with something Royal, this lot are a whole lot less stuffy than the nearby Friends of Greenwich Park.

Bar and Kitchen

Opening in time for the crowds that were expected at the new Greenwich Picturehouse, The Bar and Kitchen occupies the site its parent company's deli used to hold before it moved nearer to the market, opposite the cinema. The bright, modern interior isn't really to my personal taste - though I realise it's all very new and trendy I personally prefer something a little cosier. Bright jewel colours in reds and purples adorn the walls and a series of canvases forming a giant picture of a flame are jolly enough, the current vogue for 70s retro styling is well represented - it's just not quite my cup of tea. The large glass windows which though probably great during the day, made me feel a bit like a goldfish in a bowl at night.

I enjoyed the glassware - though its asymmetrical nature could give a few people a bit of a shock - it added a little individuality to an otherwise unexciting interior. I have noticed though, that after a year or so, the funky glasses are gradually being replaced with bog-standard cheapo ones.

Sadly the cooking's getting a bit on the bog-standard side too. When the place first opened the food was unfaultable. Personally sourced, albeit the guy I talked to, though claiming he bought the ingredients himself that morning didn't really seem to know much about its provenance other than it was 'organic' (he went on and on about that bit)- he seemed nonplussed when I asked if the scallops were diver-caught, for example, it was at least fresh and tasted great.

Even at the beginning, the wine felt like it was trying a little too hard. We tried the 'house exclusive' blend and though the flavour was pleasant enough the powerful qualities of each of the different grapes almost seemed to be battling with each other for attention, giving the impression of a slightly over-rich fruit cake. Having said that, we finished the bottle and toddled home quite happily, of course. Naturally, wine has to taste like battery acid before I leave any ...

Since then, sadly, the quality's been going down every time we've eaten there. The first time we made excuses for it - like 'it was the beginning of the week' (never order fish on a Monday anywhere, by the way) or 'the wrong time of year.' The menu was unexciting and the cooking much the same. The next time it was a little less interesting than even that. The last time we ate there, a couple of weeks ago, most of the dishes were "off." We were guided towards the "special menu" which we were surprised that they could supply at the price - and we were justified in our concern. Even at the price, it was just not worth the money - poor portions and poor cooking. I will have to hear some VERY good reviews from people whose opinion I respect to tempt me back a fourth time.

The service was friendly enough, though due to the size of the kitchen (miniscule) the wait can be a little long at busy times - and the lack of basic English in the staff made it difficult to communicate. Frankly I suspect that if you're looking for a night out you could probably do better than Greenwich Bar and Kitchen as it currently stands.

The Fan Museum

Hooray. The fan museum's just been voted Small Visitor Attraction of the Year by VisitLondon. And it deserves it too - a delightfully dinky kind of place that's ideal to take your mum to when she visits (leave Dad at home.) It's situated on Crooms Hill, nearly opposite the Theatre, and is just about as cute as a button.

An old 18th century house that got pretty run-down in the middle part of the 20th Century, it's been gorgeously restored and opened as a perfect little jewel of a museum. There are so many "masculine" attractions in and around Greenwich - The Maritime Museum, the Cutty Sark, Firepower etc, reflecting the area's military and maritime past, that it's a joy to find a museum dedicated to total frippery.

There are cases depicting the history and manufacture of fans, and upstairs a splendid and beautifully-kept-and-curated exhibition space, where examples of pretty much any kind of fan you'd care to mention jostle with a continuing series of ever-changing exhibitions, which just goes to show that nothing is too small to specialise further.

They do workshops for both children and adults in the delicate art of fan-making and have occasional lectures and other events. There is a nice-looking tea room in the orangery which I am sure is very civilised, but keeps such eccentric opening hours that I have never managed to catch it actually serving beverages…

www.fan-museum.org

Warwick Leadlay

One of those institutions without whom Greenwich just wouldn't seem right, I was endeared to Warwick Leadlay the very first day I moved to Greenwich. I had decided I'd like a couple of ancient maps of my area to hang on the wall and frankly The Warwick Leadlay Gallery is the only place one ever needs to go to buy old maps and prints in Greenwich. It's on that lovely parade of shops at the Regency end of Nelson Road, and retains the lovely old curved glass windows and corner door as the shop butts on to one of the furtive little entrances to Greenwich Market. The windows are filled with a changing display of locally related prints and maps or sometimes feature a local artist's work. Always worth a look, Warwick Leadlay's gaff ...

I had been a little concerned that this shop might be like so many antiquarian bookshops/galleries/print rooms, where some miserable, crusty old codger looks at you like you've come to smash the shop up then follows you around the place grumbling about "young people..." I was served, I found out later, by Warwick Leadlay himself, a delightfully eccentric, white-bearded gentleman with a solicitous manner. I explained that I wanted to look at some old maps featuring my house or at least the site on which it was built - which he duly showed me. On watching me nearly faint when I heard the price of them, he discreetly steered my grateful carcass towards some prints of the same at £12.50 without that peevish condescension that so many shops of that type muster.

I still have those prints, but I have recently found out more about Warwick Leadlay (amazingly by reading an old copy of Period Living in the dentists. A traditional jazz fanatic, he used to run a jazz festival from the back garden of his home in Edenbridge - one of the smallest castles in England, and he still organises many local jazz events. From his delightful office over the shop he hosts the meetings of both the Riverfront Jazz Festival and the 1805 society - a group of Nelson nuts who are into anything to do with Trafalgar. This man is a gem - and long may his delightful little shop continue to sell ancient maps for hundreds of pounds to the well-heeled and £12.50 prints to the likes of me...

www.warwickleadlay.com

New Exhibition at the Queens House

Before I start - a piece of news which probably everyone else has heard before me but I've been a way a bit recently and I missed it GODDARD'S PIE SHOP HAS SHUT!!!! I'm terribly upset - yet another piece of independent "Old" Greenwich gone - to a burger chain. At least it's not McDonalds - but nevertheless it's a crying shame. I used to be able to get a pie for virtually pennies - when we ate in the Kingston branch of the Gourmet Burger chain a couple of months ago it cost an arm and a leg. I wonder - will there be ANYTHING left soon?

Onto other matters. There's a new exhibition at the Queen's House, which I popped along to see yesterday. It's a "radical" (hmm) new hanging of some of the gems of the NMM's collection - with a strong naval theme and showcasing some of the more famous artists.

It's what I call a "solid" exhibition. It's hardly exciting - far too many rooms full of seascapes for a land lubber like me - but there are some interesting bits - I found the paintings of people far more enlightening - not just the bigwigs who were the founders of the British Navy but "ordinary" sailors, travellers and the people encountered by explorers. There's a charming portrait of a "native" polnesian woman and a fun picture of sailors enjoying a spot of shore leave. A new acquisition is a Victorian painting of people seeing off a ship bound for the New World - almost photographic in its detail and very cosmopolitan for its time in its depiction of black people. I did like the 20th Century war paintings - I found them very moving - and beautiful in their own way.

Despair not - as I almost did - they haven't lost the Greenwich galleries so the pics of Sam Pepys and his ilk are still intact.

This is not an exhibition to rush out and see, but it's definitely a good option for something to take visitors to (especially visiting parents) - it's interesting and involving and certainly not to miss in the long term.

East Greenwich

Perhaps because of its close proximity to the A102(M) and the fact that if the wind is blowing the wrong way it can get a bit whiffy from the factories near the Blackwall Tunnel, East Greenwich sometimes gets a raw deal in the swank stakes. It doesn't help that the old hospital - now demolished - was a total eyesore. All that's left is a pathetic row of funeral parlours, an actually pretty decent florist (left over from the hospital's glory days) a couple of filthy £1 shops, a cabbie's and a rather good dry cleaners. Behind it all are blocks of council flats. There is a good "naïve" style mural on one wall venerating Sam Pepys who though he would have walked along this way would certainly never recognise it today. The close proximity to both Charlton and the motorway has also made this a favourite area for tool-hire shops - useful about once a year for those of us with a DIY urge, useless the rest of the time.

On the corner is a pub which mysteriously closed down as The Frog and Radiator then just as mysteriously reopened as the Ship and Billet. It looks rather smart actually - though I'm not convinced the clientele has changed. Only time will tell. The other pub, The Old Friends, very much of the old unreconstituted "boozer" school, always has 'friendly' messages chalked on the blackboard outside such as "England - Love it or Leave." Still - anywhere which advertises the musical skills of 'Roger Romantic' can't be all bad.

I'm not going to discuss the forthcoming lap-dancing club at the moment - except that when the Chinese restaurant at the Plaza closed I remember saying that "anything would be better than an empty shop." Then we got a bookies and I said it couldn't get any worse. Ahem…

Continuing along Woolwich Road towards the motorway, the gloom continues. "Glenister Green" - whatever visions of Eden that name implies - turns out to be a grotty bit of grass by some faceless modern houses. It's been given the old hospital mural which should have improved it but somehow it's still as grim as ever. Cutting the grass occasionally might help, I suppose, but frankly, I think it's doomed. The fish shop isn't bad - friendly, and with nicely greasy fry-ups - but it does feel very lonely perched there all alone.

It's not helped by the proliferation of "luxury" flats that have sprung up in the last year or so. I mean - who the bloody hell needs a GATED COMMUNITY round here? I HATE gated communities with a vengeance - they closet themselves away from the people who already live there and give nothing to the actual community around them except some extra exhaust from their fancy cars' fumes. Mind you, the bus stop is situated just outside several of their plate glass living room windows so they can't FEEL very isolated, tee hee...

The shops get worse as you get further towards the main road - mainly dodgy takeaways or just completely closed down, the dead shop fronts grimy and unloved. What used to be an upmarket lingerie shop has now turned online, leaving the shop itself a mess of half opened brown boxes, piles of papers and grotty old computers - couldn't they have at least advertised themselves with a little display? A photographer once had a shop along here - but even the dog-eared picture of Judi Dench clutching a cup of coffee has gone now. The Labour Party headquarters livens up once a week when Nick Raynsford has his surgery (though the last time we walked past on surgery night he was alone, with his feet up on the desk looking bored.)

There are plans afoot for this bit of road - which could be good - but only when we find out what is to happen to the old hospital site will we know whether we are to get anything worth having - or whether it will be yet more uninspired 'luxury' apartments. Shivas, the little mini-mart, has made an effort recently, and the Post Office looks like it's getting a spruce up - but this could be such a great little parade if someone was prepared to take a chance and bring some little shops like those at the foot of Royal Hill. Daniel at Theatre of Wine tells me a wet fish shop may be moving in next door to them. I can only hope this will be the start of some REAL shops ariving - a bakers, perhaps, or a greengrocers, butchers - or, dare I say it - a branch of The Cheeseboard? I really think, with all the schools and nurseries around, there would be room for a little café too. Oh well - I can dream.

Thing is, I actually love East Greenwich. Once you get to know it, you start to become really fond of its funny little quirks. East Greenwich Library - a gift in 1906 by the American benefactor Andrew Carnegie is actually a beautiful little art nouveau building - now partially converted into a music college and therefore full of life and vitality. Try standing at the bus stop opposite and looking at the building next to it - an optical illusion makes it look flat like a film set which might amuse you while you wait for the 422. The old fire station behind it, now sadly a hotel of the variety which almost certainly doesn't have a honeymoon suite, must have been utterly lovely once - and who knows - maybe it could be again, despite the fact that its best view is over the 102(M) flyover.

The streets around the southern part of the road, whilst not up to the grandness of Westcombe Park or West Greenwich, have a charm of their own and are generally well-looked after by people who care (there are a couple of examples of stunning architectural re-invention in Halstow Road - I don't need to tell you where - you'll find them.) There is a feeling of community and apart from the thundering skip lorries which use it as a rat run, the area is very quiet despite its proximity to a major road. Some of the roads backing onto the railway are really rather nice - and I've seen one or two properties in Annandale which border on the exquisite. Neighbours actually talk to each other and interesting things go on from time to time - not least centered around Halstow Road School, which is one of the best in the area.

Behind Annandale, Chevening and Halstow roads, there is a delightful little park called East Greenwich Pleasaunce. This used to be the overflow from the old Seaman's cemetery and there are still around 3,000 seamen buried there, complete with graves covered in anchors and other seafaring memorabilia. But it is now a rather sweet park, which is used by the whole community, including children from nearby Halstow Road primary school, dog walkers - and me, once, in an (extremely short-lived) fit of enthusiasm for Keep Fit. There are gates in Chevening Road and at the top of Halstow Road, where a recent Section 106 agreement led to a new entrance.

South of Woolwich Road is Tunnel Avenue. This, I presume, is the old Tunnel approach road, and has some rather sweet, if a little bland, 1930s-style houses running along one side, and 1980s-style the other side. Halfway up Tunnel Avenue is a little walkway leading to a footbridge over the 102(M) to the Peninsula shops, aka Shopping Cart Valhalla - the place where trolleys go to die. There are always half a dozen waiting forlornly for passage into the next world (or Greenwich Peninsula Sainsburys, whichever is the quicker... ) You can get good views from the walkway.

What will ultimately make or break East Greenwich amounts to two things - what is going to happen to the old hospital as mentioned above - and whether the ludicrous plans for "traffic calming" which were revealed to interested citizens at one of those pointless "consultation" sessions we sometimes get ever get implemented. I won't go into them - but basically I found myself, a generally calm, collected-ish individual wanting to hit the car-hating out-of-towner "expert" who had drawn up the ridiculous plans before not much of the evening was through. I wait with bated breath, and have, by the way, stopped attending 'consultation' sessions. That's precisely what they are - consultation, nothing else. "They" tell us what they want to do, we tell them we don't want it, they nod sagely with rather pitying looks at our imbecility and lack of understanding, then go ahead anyway.

Despite my rather bleak look at East Greenwich I wouldn't live anywhere else. It is going to change a LOT in the next few years - but I suspect we will end up being a little haven of quiet between "Old" Greenwich and the Peninsula - and, of course, in pole-position between the two Olympic venues in Greenwich in 2012. So it's not all gloom. Maybe I'll get that cheese shop yet...

Bar du Musee

Situated on Nelson Road, the Bar du Musee is a more-or-less happy marriage of the traditional and the modern. After a recent expansion when Greenwich Inc. took over, it's brighter and more modern than the intimate little bar of yore, but not necessarily a bad thing for all that. The previous owner - a local 'character' - gave it a curious, French atmosphere and there is much of that feel remaining. At the front, in the bar area itself, the bare brick walls, low lighting and louche furnishings give it a decadent style, and the little iron spiral staircase leading to the basement invites further exploration. Ideal for a chilly winter evening, the French air about the place seducing you into ordering just one more bottle of red wine...

For a classic British summer's day, however, the larger area - still brick walled, but with a giant glass conservatory roof, is bright and airy on the wettest, greyest afternoon. With trendily mis-matched furniture and covered in paintings - from salvaged oils to local prints, the conservatory has a lived-in feel, added to by a odd mix of continental tin adverts and strange antique-y objets d'art. Outside, on the terrace, there are too many hardwood chairs and tables and the obligatory parasols, with a minimalist garden border of box and other greenery presided over by a high fence, which my O'level geographic skills lead me to surmise masks the railway line behind.

The dishes are modern and appetising, and generally taste ok. It's hardly Michelin-star quality - but at least doesn't pretend to be - this is a bar that serves food, not a gourmet experience. This is middle-of-the-road cuisine with a small range of pleasant dishes. There's always a vegetarian option or two and the wine list, though hardly connoisseur-level, isn't terrible. The brunch is good fun - light and tasty, too, though I have never noticed the menu change. Being a coffee snob, I was disappointed when my "Americano" turned out to be exactly the same as my friend's "white filter coffee" without the milk. Britain has much to learn about this hallowed beverage.*

George of Greenwich, the deli next door, which sold outrageously expensive luxury food items to god-knows-who has gradually declined over the past year to virtually nothing. Every time I went in there there seemed to be fewer items on the shelves and more bar seating - connecting through to Bar du Musee at the back. Frankly, to call it a deli now would be a joke. It's just an extension of the restaurant which now seems to be practising the law of diminishing returns - the larger it gets, the less personable. I watch with interest, as the Antiques shop in between, the self-consciously cute "Walpoles" is subsumed into the giant mass of eaterie.

Service at the Bar du Musee is generally pleasant - though can be a bit hap-hazard, especially at weekends when the place is heaving.

It should be noted that Bar du Musee, like all Greenwich Inc eateries, has a bizarre - and controversial - policy on service charges. As with many places they not only include a service charge - but also leave the credit card total empty so you can add a gratuity. That's bad enough - but get this. Do not assume that any service charge you may add to your bill will actually go to your waiter. It goes into the coffers of Greenwich Inc who use it (so they say) to fund a reward system for staff.

Now I don't know about anyone else but I like to reward staff who have served ME - not fund someone else's incentive system. I don't care if my waiter turned up on time that day or helped to clean the floors after hours. That's up to Greenwich Inc - not me - to encourage. I want to tip the service I received. And I can't be sure that it actually ever goes to the staff at all even if they are doing the extra chores that Greenwich Inc require. I have talked to MANY (and I mean many) disgruntled staff in various of Greenwich Inc's places who tell me they never see it. Take my advice - cross out the service charge - adding a note on your credit card bill as to why, if you like - and leave a cash tip for people who rely on gratuities to make up meagre wages.



* Try www.unioncoffeeroasters.com for everything you'll ever want to know about coffee - they know what they're talking about - and are almost local - being based just across the river in Docklands. They do a splendid variety of exceptional hand-roasted coffees ethically produced without making a big deal about it. Their mail-order service is excellent.

Ottakars

Ottakars - or maybe I should say Waterstones now - is the only chain bookshop in Greenwich (unless you count the bargain bookshops which, all having the same bargain books in as each other, at the same prices, leads me to cunningly fathom out that they are in some way connected…) and as such it is never going to be a 'local' shop in the way that, say, Warwick Leadlay or Theatre of Wine are. However, within its corporate remit, it does its best. There are frequent book signings, often of local authors' work and Greenwich-related events - the last Harry Potter release was marked by a midnight party on the Cutty Sark. As with many chain bookstores these days, the staff are allowed to leave little notes around the shop recommending their faves - and unlike certain chains these are not always printed by head office to look like they're home-made…

Despite its diminutive (for a chain bookstore) size, it manages to cram a lot of books into the two floors and helpful, friendly staff will assist with any problematic searches.

It remains to be seen what will happen to Ottakars now it's been taken over - I really hope the Waterstones corporate identity doesn't obliterate the hitherto understated quality Ottakars always had. I confess I don't often shop there - though I do have the odd coffee in the little cafe upstairs and have found several impulse purchases over the years. It is one chain I grudgingly admit is sometimes quite a useful resource - as long as we are not hit over the head with Waterstones brand image.

The Foot and Mouth Memorial

Almost opposite the Cutty Sark Pub, sandwiched between a little cobbled street and the river wall at Ballast Quay is a delightful little Italianate garden. Hardly a few feet across, and behind black-painted iron railings far too high to climb (thank God) its shady trees, graceful urns and what is possibly the prettiest potting shed in the world provide a sudden and charming respite from the stolidly urban, if picturesque, landscape around it.

I am convinced that many walk past it without even noticing it - which is a shame as I have spent much time pondering over the curious little home made memorial within its dappled sunlit quiet. Made from old plumbing pipes and other found objects, a life-size white ram rears up at a gnarled old tree, at its feet a plaque remembering the thousands of animals who were slaughtered - not because they were infected with foot and mouth disease – but in the pyres ordered by the government to contain the 2001 outbreak. I might have expected it in the countryside - but in Greenwich? I passed it today because I was reminded about it by someone reading this blog (thank you!) - it looked a little battered - maybe it's been forgotten… I hope not.

The Covered Market

The epicentre of modern Greenwich is the covered marketplace. It's surrounded by that horrid one-way system which means you take your life into your hand just crossing the road, but for all that it's a fascinating area which repays a closer look. It's only small, but has a lot more personality than many a bigger market, and changes on a daily basis.

For the first few days of the week, it's largely empty, and even a fair few of the shops around the edge don't bother opening. Of course it's a good time to see the architecture on those days – a funny design which although it has a columned archway as its main entrance, the rest of the openings just take the shape of tiny alleys or doorways, straight out of a Dickens novel. The mixture of cobbles and flagstones on the ground meld well with the Georgian architecture, but my favourite bit is the quote from Proverbs just above the entrance, - 'A false balance is abomination to the Lord but a just weight is his delight.' It makes me smile every time I see it.

What a shame about the horrid glass roof which can never have been an attractive sight, even when new. Thursdays and Fridays have more antiques than the other days – though the prices are generally rather high for the not-fabulous-quality goods. Frankly I'm surprised that much of it sells – though it must do or they wouldn't do it, I guess.

Saturdays and Sundays are the real crowd-pullers, and are more varied with craft and clothing stalls as well as specialist food emporia such as one which sells curry sauces and another which stinks the whole place out with the sickly smell of revolting flavoured coffee. Yeuch. Talk about an abomination...

For my money, the man who sells various trendy kilts is worth a visit, as is the guy who sells giant ceramic pots which you can use as impressive flame oil lamps. In fact I bought them for several friends last Christmas which went down very well indeed, though on reflection it might have been wiser to buy them on different occasions and not try to get six of them on the bus at once.

In a different, currently-under-threat-from-developers part of the market, across the railway line and round the back, there are some much better quality antiques stalls and even a two story warehouse which sells 20th Century Kitsch and memorabilia – it's not cheap but the quality's pretty good. Look for it behind the Car park at the bottom of Crooms Hill opposite the Ibis Hotel.

There's also a big building which sells ethnic-y furniture, if you like heavy Thai-influenced hardwood and metal stuff. Heaven only knows what will happen to these important little one-off shops when the developers move in and do their best to standardise Greenwich to match the rest of the country.

Every so often the naval charity that owns much of Greenwich "threatens" to redevelop the covered market, which always results in the same local uproar, a few national newspaper articles and very little else.I always used to be at the forefront of such outraged protests - yes - I even wrote to Time Out about it the last time - but I confess my attitude has softened after a conversation with Warwick Leadlay who owns the very fine Warwick Leadlay Gallery in Nelson Road.

I absolutely agree that the idea of raising rents so that all the lovely individual shops that Greenwich is so proud of are forced out in favour of chains is a VERY BAD THING INDEED. But I then started to think what a redevelopment of the market might actually do for the community. It's sold as a dreadful idea, lock stock and barrel - but here are a few things to think about.

1) The actual buildings around the outside are listed. Nothing can be done to them.

2) The proposals appear to be the demolition of the god-awful 1950s monstrosities INSIDE the covered market and the redevelopment of shops where they are now with flats on the second floor to pay for them. What if we were able to keep the delightful little businesses downstairs with ATTRACTIVE upper floors inhabited by a few yuppies that we don't really ever get to see?

3) That might lead to a NICE glass roof that we could actually see through and Greenwich Market being more like the glorious renovations at Leadenhall. Presumably the ridiculous prices the yuppies would pay for apartments would lessen the 'necessity' to maul the independent shop owners with rent hikes.

Just a thought.

I'd be willing to at least listen to proposals. Naturally if they want to bring in a Body Shop, Tie Rack, Baby Gap or Next, all bets are off.

Wing Wah Buffet

For anyone on a budget who's fed up with the frankly rubbish cheap eateries in Greenwich town centre, try nipping along the Woolwich road just beyond the old hospital site. It's opposite the swankily-named but really rather sinister "Glenister Gardens" - not that you'd know - there's no name on them or anything - it's actually just a green patch with a couple of trees - though I guess we should be grateful that it's not another "luxury apartment" development.

The Wing Wah is one of those "eat as much as you can" places - for a set fee - usually pretty damn cheap, especially at weekday lunchtimes, you can choose from a really-not-bad-at-all-considering-the-price array of mainly fried Chinese-style food. You can keep going back until you can't move and it stays the same price. The deal is that each person gets a plate which they fill up as much as they like with anything from noodles and king prawns to crispy duck and seaweed. It's mainly meat-oriented but there is enough variety for a vegetarian to end up feeling just as bloated as their carnivore friends.

No plate-sharing's allowed and, good news for those appalled at the horrid "supersize-ness" of the whole concept, there is always the threat of surcharging on wasted food (not that I've ever seen it carried out.)

You're definitely seeing the price of the food reflected in the decor here - bright overhead lights, simple formica tables and serviceable catering-style chairs. Let's face it - it's not really first-date fare unless you're 14. Actually, though, if you are 14 it's GREAT first date fare, especially if you're short as children under 1.4m high get a special rate.

The food is really not badly cooked, the service friendly and the atmosphere deservedly bustling. No room for awkward silences here. Thank heavens there wasn't a Wing Wah Buffet when I was a student - eat here every day and you'll be the size of a house within three months.

This is tasty food, cheap and filling. If you don't have the time or inclination to enjoy the splendour of the sumptuous surroundings you can fill a takeaway carton from the buffet at £3.50 a pop. Recommended for students, cheapskates and - well - anyone who fancies some decent, greasy Chinese junk food (no pun intended.)

Bear in mind that the place gets VERY full so arrive early or be prepared for a wait. Staff are prepared to be helpful though - last time we were in a party of 16 excited birthday party children arrived and were accommodated with only the shortest of waiting times.

The Cutty Sark

This must be one of the oldest pubs in Greenwich - being on the riverfront it has survived when much around it has been lost. It used to be called the Union Tavern but changed its name in honour of our famous guest down the road.

A classic, high brick building with a beautiful bowed front, it commands some great views of Docklands, The Dome and any river traffic that passes. Downstairs it retains its spit-and-sawdust feel (sans the sawdust) with age-blackened partitions, 1930s style stained glass and seats made out of old barrels. The wooden staircase in the middle is fabulous - look up to see wonderful old beams and dusty candelabras. Look down to see carpet that has had so much beer and foot traffic that it is impossible to see any pattern at all. My kind of pub.

In the winter - and on a cool day in summer, the best place to sit is in the bow window on the first floor where you get all the view with none of the cold. In the summer you can sit outside across the cobbled street on benches looking out over the river.

It does all the usual beers and some pretty decent pub food. The burgers especially are good, and the chips crisp and enjoyable. Steer clear of the jacket potatoes if you like crispy skins though. The guy went to great pains to tell me how they get the super-soft skins - but to me, though the flavour was superior, the texture was microwave all the way... yeuch.

Next to the Cutty Sark pub along Ballast Quay are some delightful 19th Century (and perhaps older) cottages, some that seem so teeny from the outside one can only guess at their having some Tardis-like qualities inside. I once saw a planning permission notice outside one of them applying for consent to build a two-layer basement. I was mightily intrigued - surely that would take it to well below the level ot the Thames just ten or so yards away. Now, I'd love to see that conversion.

Some of them have fabulous little balconies with white-painted, trellis canopies - which combined with the cobbles make a wonderful photo opportunity. At the end of the way, the old Harbour Master's Office is now split into two houses - one of which has recently been cleaned. Really - why couldn't they have got themselves together to do them both at once? Nevertheless it is one of my favourite buildings in Greenwich and well worth a second glance.

Greenwich Theatre

GREENWICH THEATRE

This oddity has survived many a precarious time and gone through a good half-dozen names in its time.

It was called "Crowders Music Hall" for a while in the 19th Century - there were some posters for it in the Spread Eagle Restaurant until it closed "for reburbishment." I have no idea what happened to the posters.

From the outside, you'd think you were going into an old Music Hall- the main entrance on Crooms Hill is most theatrical, lit by dozens of classic bare bulbs, and the side entrance opens out onto a fabulously Dickensian street. So it's curious to walk inside the theatre and find that it's all stripped pine and laminate flooring inside. The box office and bar area, as well as a fairly perfunctory café are bright and cheery and always have a good selection of leaflets and posters about what's going on in the area as well as the theatre itself (It's a good place to pick up The Guide local magazine if your household is, like ours, deemed not posh enough to get it posted through the door.) The bar does good drinks but there's not nearly enough seating, leaving most people standing before the show and during the interval.

The modern auditorium is a great size - big enough to take a nice crowd, but small enough to stay intimate. They do a range of in-house and touring shows of varying quality - but then doesn't every theatre? It attracts a strong local following and we try to get there as often as possible. In fact we used to come here even before we even moved here officially, as part of a big group of mates who go to the panto every year. It's a tradition amongst us now, and I usually find that a few glasses of the not-bad wine before going inside makes the jokes even funnier. Problem is that I find myself waiting for the dame/ugly sisters/ behind yous and oh no you didn'ts when I go to the serious stuff during the rest of the year.

A friend recently went to an all-night 'paranormal investigation' at the theatre. I will leave him to write about his experiences on another occasion...

Greenwich Theatre

GREENWICH THEATRE

This oddity has survived many a precarious time and gone through a good half-dozen names in its time.

It was called "Crowders Music Hall" for a while in the 19th Century – there were some posters for it in the Spread Eagle Restaurant until it closed "for reburbishment." I have no idea what happened to the posters.

From the outside, you'd think you were going into an old Music Hall – the main entrance on Crooms Hill is most theatrical, lit by dozens of classic bare bulbs, and the side entrance opens out onto a fabulously Dickensian street. So it's curious to walk inside the theatre and find that it's all stripped pine and laminate flooring inside. The box office and bar area, as well as a fairly perfunctory café are bright and cheery and always have a good selection of leaflets and posters about what's going on in the area as well as the theatre itself (It's a good place to pick up The Guide local magazine if your household is, like ours, deemed not posh enough to get it posted through the door.) The bar does good drinks but there's not nearly enough seating, leaving most people standing before the show and during the interval.

The modern auditorium is a great size – big enough to take a nice crowd, but small enough to stay intimate. They do a range of in-house and touring shows of varying quality – but then doesn't every theatre? It attracts a strong local following and we try to get there as often as possible. In fact we used to come here even before we even moved here officially, as part of a big group of mates who go to the panto every year. It's a tradition amongst us now, and I usually find that a few glasses of the not-bad wine before going inside makes the jokes even funnier. Problem is that I find myself waiting for the dame/ugly sisters/behind you's and oh no you didn'ts when I go to the serious stuff during the rest of the year.

A friend recently went to an all-night "paranormal investigation" at the theatre. I will leave him to write about his experiences on another occasion...

The Old Royal Observatory

This was by far my favourite museum in Greenwich until its recent "refurbishment." Sitting proudly atop the highest hill for miles around, this building was originally built by Charles II to a design by Sir Christopher Wren. The old skinflint didn't put enough money into the project, however, and stone from a local castle was pinched to construct the new observatory. Even worse, he paid its first inhabitant, poor old John Flamsteed, a miserly £100 a year – out of which he had to live, provide all his instruments and pay any assistants. No wonder he was infamously a Grumpy Old Sod.

I had been vastly looking forward to seeing the new, refurbished galleries, but it didn't take me long to decide that it's one of the worst re-hangs I've seen in a long time. Dark browns and buffs may be the latest fashionable colours – but they do nothing for what is, in many parts, a basement museum. Out went the light, airy and good conditions to view the exhibits, in came gloom and "trendy" dark spots.

I don't know whether it's true but it certainly SEEMS that the Observatory has gone down the same route as the Maritime Museum down the hill and decided that we all have such low attention spans that they dare not put too many exhibits on show. I don't know – maybe they do have more things than before but it certainly doesn't FEEL like it. It feels lightweight and patronising – and this from someone who is no scientific genius.

On the day I went there were hundreds of visitors milling around aimlessly and slightly puzzled, trying to work out which way to go. There were people left with nothing to look at whilst waiting to view a cabinet in the centre of the room which had inexplicably been given a blank back. There wasn't even any information about the exhibit on the back, so people looked at a chocolate brown blank, waited, then gave up.

Other giant walls were also left blank but painted in such colours that they looked as though they were the backs of portacabins. Many of the "interactive" exhibits were simplified to the point of lowest common denominator even for children. Now I know that museums are supposed to be "inclusive" these days – but really – do they have to be dumbed-down to the point of excluding anyone with half a brain?

Such a shame. I used to love this museum.

The world-famous orange ball which drops at precisely 1.00pm each day was originally designed to be seen from the river as a visible sign of Greenwich Mean Time. I always wondered why it dropped at 1.00pm rather than noon – but when I asked I was surprised at the prosaic nature of the answer. Basically the astronomers who were expected to hitch it up and drop it by hand every day were always too busy observing the heavens at midday itself to remember – so they made it 1.00pm for purely practical reasons.

West Greenwich

The areas bordering the Park and the heath, and around Crooms and Royal Hills make up the "posh bit" of Greenwich.

Roads full of dinky little terraces and fine Georgian townhouses all painted white and gracefully draped with wisteria and old roses seduce the visitor – of which there are few – most tourists stop at the fan museum if they even make it that far – into a mix of fantasy and plain nosiness – I went there with a friend the other day and at one point she was on tiptoes trying to nose into people's houses. Disgraceful. Not that I'd do that myself of course.

There are some splendid double-fronters in Crooms Hill and up the back streets near the heath little private roads lead to yet more architectural delight. I always find it fun to take the western gate out of the park and walk through the little alley and down the little pathway to Crooms Hill – it doesn't take much imagination to step not only back in time, but out of London entirely. The houses are large and imposing – and those on the heath and backing onto Greenwich Park are fine indeed. I'm particularly covetous of Robert Hooke's old house, The Grange, which I once got a sneaky peek inside while it was being renovated - I instantly fell in love.

On Royal Hill there is a wonderful mish-mash of architectural styles which are in such a fine state of higgledy-piggledyness that for a fan of such things it's difficult to know what to look at first.I envy them not only their peace and quiet around these roads but the variety of shops.

The bottom of Royal Hill sees a little parade of fab retail outlets – what I call The Royal Hill Lovelies - a good old fashioned cheesemongers, a family butcher, a greengrocers which always has lovely displays of seasonal produce outside and a delightful florist which also has a couple of tiny tables and chairs for the odd tea consumer.

Oh – that we could enjoy such delights in East Greenwich. Frankly we have more dead shops than open ones.

Royal Teas is a tiny, tatty-looking-from-the-outside shop which attracts the Saturday morning Guardian readers and Yummy Mummies. Very 'alternative,' it's always so packed with bloody pushchairs that I can't ever get in. I always used to prefer the Argentinian café/deli Buenos Aires a few doors up – less crowded, with squashy armchairs and divine cake, but it now gets pretty full itself.

Gloucester Circus, I understand, was originally intended to be a complete circle, but the cash ran out and only one side was built. The other side is filled up with rather ugly flats – but at least they get a good view. There is a lovely private garden in the centre with mature chestnut trees which shields the swanky owners from the hoi-poloi opposite – though being deciduous the trees naturally give less screening in winter. The residents moan that it costs a fortune to maintain but frankly I think it comes with the territory - you want to live somewhere truly fab? You have to look after it.

All in all, West Greenwich is a seriously desirable area. Well – I desire it, anyway.

The Mitre

The Mitre Hotel

We were early for our screening at the Picturehouse on Saturday. The Lord Hood was having its jazz day - it was very full and very smoky and the Picturehouse bar looked busy too so we nipped into the Mitre for a quick pint.

The Mitre has always rather appealed to me from the outside. It's neat and clean - a spruced-up Victorian hotel with beautifully-kept window boxes and spiral-cut conifers in the first floor windows (not dead which is a miracle after several years) It just looks like a nice pub. It's clearly not the first one on the site as The East Greenwich Madrigal Society used to meet there in 1848, and it was used as a County Court around that time too, under the beady eye of Judge David Sealey.

Inside it's also very late-Victorian - and much bigger than it looks from the outside. Squashy leather bench-seats and neat tables on different levels - and plenty of them - did look a bit tired by 6.00pm on a Saturday - but it was still a pleasant enough atmosphere. There's a little paved garden running between the pub and St Alfege's churchyard where they clearly have barbeques - though there wasn't one while we were there - and a nice little beer garden/yard at the back which you get to through a conservatory.

The beer's nothing to write home about - but it's not awful either and my lime & soda (I was saving the real drinking for after the movie) was at the perfect strength - unusual these days where you either get green water or a glass of acid.

Upstairs they have ensuite rooms - I have no idea what they're like but from £75 in London (for a single room) which includes breakfast and a car parking space they would have to be exceptionally awful to represent bad value. All in all I quite like the Mitre. I wouldn't ever go out of my way to visit it, but if I'm in the area (except on a Tuesday when they have an open mic night for amateur performers – bring back the Madrigals, I say) I may well pop in.

Zin, Trafalgar Road

This is the new kid on the block as far as noodles go and for Greenwich it's not bad. We already have two other noodle restaurants but frankly neither of them have set the bar very high to potential challengers - I've eaten at each once - which in both cases was once too often. To be honest, that bar is still on the floor.

Zin is a tiny little place in a row of other tiny little places, most of which are takeaway curry and pizza joints. Trafalgar Road, always excepting the fab Theatre of Wine and hte new fishmonger's, is a dreadful, scruffy street with more closed and abandoned shops than actual ongoing businesses - and even in those that are actually open there more takeaway joints than any other kind of establishment. I wasn't expecting much from Zin.

Inside it's like a very cheap version of the modern, bright Wagamama chain. There are odd individual tables, but most are joined together. The lighting is bright - as are the tables and chairs, and at least it's not as seedy as the rest of the road. The menu is much bigger than I had expected - a sort of pan-Asian fusion which includes some Chinese-style classics a couple of Thai dishes and a lot of Japanese recipes.

We were after something quick on the day we went so we didn't choose anything too fussy. The service is friendly and fast - we had warned the guy we needed to be in and out and he brought stuff as it arrived - much like the Wagamama pattern.

My spring rolls were crispy and light and the gyosa were plump and gingery. So far so good. But whilst my companion's all-purpose white fish in brown sauce was serviceable, my vegetable rice dish was frankly bland - more like a side dish served in main course-sized portions. But - and it's a bit But, NOTHING was inedible - a huge step from the other noodle bars we've tested in Greenwich where we left most of the 'food' on our plates.

I would definitely give Zin another go. I wouldn't go for the sashimi - you need a top chef and a huge turnover to prevent food poisoning - though from what I glanced of the kitchens hygiene was not a problem. But I would spend longer studying the menu and choosing something nice and tasty.

I guess Zin's big appeal will be to students from the university and music college down the road, but for the rest of us this is more than the best of a bad bunch in Greenwich. It is a genuine step up.

Noodle Time

I had always wondered about this 70s throwback retro-looking all-purpose oriental eaterie in the centre of town. It looked pretty dodgy stuff - faded photos of the fare on offer in the window, and a row of orange plastic lampshades which are just slightly too retro so it's impossible to tell whether it's a conscious design choice or just something nobody ever bothered to change with the times. Nevertheless I'd seen all sorts of people going in there and wondered whether I might be missing a culinary trick.

The night we went it was indeed filled with lots of different types of people - not just the penniless students one might expect from the look of the joint. Groups of office workers poured over laminated menus armed with little notebooks where you record which dish number you fancy. There were even one or two well-heeled looking gentlemen sitting alone. My optimism rose.

The decor inside wasn't as god-awful as it looked like it was going to be and I decided that it was, after all a design decision (however uninspiring) rather than a default setting.

The crispy seaweed and pancake rolls were actually rather good - but then I believe that they get bought-in anyway and reheated. The pancake rolls came with an odd lemony dip which while not actually unpleasant wasn't very good either.

The mains were a total disaster. My "Dry" fried noodles were dripping with old, cheap oil and I had to fight my way through acres of the stuff to find any of the accompanying vegetables at all. I managed a half-dozen mouthfuls before feeling queasy. My companion's all-purpose-noodley-soupy dish wasn't entirely inedible - but again the proportion of badly-cooked noodles to any kind of piece of pork accompaniment was distinctly low. We abandoned it and went elsewhere.

My advice to anyone whose co-workers suggest a night out at Noodle Time. If you can't persuade them to go elsewhere, which is my sincere recommendation, go for a selection of starters. It's what I wish I had done.

Amazingly, there is actually a WORSE all-purpose-oriental restaurant in Greenwich. The food at Tai Won Mai across the road, on the corner of Creek Road is abysmal. Totally inedible, the place surviving, presumably, because it's cheap. NO EXCUSE. STUDENTS EVERYWHERE - get your mum to buy you a book on cheap, easy bedsit cookery and save your cash.

Rangers House

Now is possibly the best time in history to visit Rangers House. It's been somewhat neglected right up until recent times – and only now, with a new collection of truly intriguing oddities, another previously "unloved" treasure imported from somewhere else, is it beginning to show just how fantastic a building it is.

It looks imposing enough. If you drive across the Blackheath part of the A2 it rises out of the lush greenery like a majestic dowager, dressed in the finery and lacework that only age-mellowed red brick, serious high-hedging and ironwork tracery can bestow. By night it is grander still, its rust-coloured bricks and cream stonework glowing healthily against a navy sky bespeckled with stars. You can almost hear the clip-clop of carriages delivering guests to a ball and its lofty grandeur has survived Time's onslaught seemingly unscathed. It is just far away enough from the road to instil a feeling of mystery, and nestled against the high walls and lush greenery of Greenwich Park a serious fear begins to lurk on the part of the casual beholder that it may still be a private building – unavailable for general consumption.

Happily for the curious, it is currently in the hands of English Heritage and, in exchange for money, visitors can see pretty much all of it.

Right from the start, Ranger's House was a bone of contention. It was built illegally on land seized in Greenwich Park and made semi-legal by a dodgy 60-year lease jiggery-pokered by a sergeant-at-arms from the Palace who'd pinched the land - one Andrew Snape. One of five naughty erections (oo-err, missus) in the park, Rangers House was first built for Admiral Francis Hosier between 1700 and 1720, but before he could move in the poor devil died of yellow fever in the Caribbean alongside most of his crew, whilst trying to fight the Spanish. Heaven knows which brave soul brought his body back to lie in the ultra-creepy church of St Nicholas in Deptford, but a chirpy ballad, Admiral Hosier's Ghost, could be heard in the taverns along the river for many a year after, when a later victory over the Spanish in the same Caribbean area was attributed to the intervention of Hosier's phantom crew …

Over the years, Rangers House has suffered its share of bad luck with owners. After Hosier's death, all kinds of unbecoming legal wrangles of the variety one still sees today amongst the least likely of relatives ensured that the place was left in limbo.

Eventually it passed on – only for the new owner, the Rt Hon John Stanhope to promptly up and die himself. He left it to his brother, Philip, 4th Earl of Chesterfield. Chesterfield didn't care for the place – so although he fiddled around enlarging it, the house remained virtually empty, until deafness and a new-born love of gardening finally brought him to the countryside at last. Then, of course he died, and the poor old place – still called "Chesterfield House" – was up for sale again.

A wealthy businessman (Richard Hulse, of the Hudson Bay Company, if you're interested) bought it, built another wing, and died.Things hotted up a bit with the next owner, Augusta, Duchess of Brunswick. She moved-in in 1807, held some parties, then died. Her daughter Caroline lived next door at the time in Montague House and as a result of the right-royal shenanigans held at that particular little den of iniquity, Montague House got itself razed by a furious Prince Regent and Chesterfield House next door was finally taken back into the hands of the crown.

It was rented out as a grace-and-favour residence to the Ranger of the Park – more an honorary post than one involving any real work. Various titled gentlefolk, minor royals and military bigwigs used it on what seems to be more an ad-hoc business than a family home, and one of Greenwich's most beautiful buildings gradually fell into disrepair.

It was only in the mid 20th Century that London County Council finally took matters into its firm civic hands and performed a thorough restoration job on the place. There's a lovely picture in the archives of the place being used as a changing area for sports clubs and tearooms, complete with shiny counter and covered buns, but it was only when English Heritage finally acquired the place that it really began to gain any serious dignity.

For a while, it temporarily housed a perfunctory collection of paintings not auctioned off over the years, but sad little Ranger's House still seemed like the eternal bridesmaid. A couple of years ago, however, after so many years of being unloved and without contents to call its very own, the house finally found a suitor - a collection that had no home.

And what a collection. Heir to an enormous diamond fortune, Sir Julius Wernher was a strange oddball millionaire. But he was a strange oddball millionaire who knew what he liked. While others bought antiques and curiosities that would impress their friends, Wernher bought only for himself. Some of the collection is bizarre, some beautiful, some downright ugly. All of it is worth seeing – even the bits that make you go "yeuch," like the medieval memento mori or the vulgar serving plates complete with glazed pottery "offal." Definitely a must - whether for a rainy afternoon or a sunny day.

The Yacht

A pleasant modern pub overlooking the River, I prefer the Yacht in winter to summer mainly because I find it a little frustrating that there's no balcony onto the Thames, though there are large picture windows which do nicely enough on a less than clement day.

It claims, depending on which side of the sandwich board outside you are standing on, to either be "The last pub in the West" or "The first pub in the West." Either way it's not a bad boozer - friendly staff, loud carpet and louder fruit machines a traditional style pub of the classic wooden-Windsor-chairs-around-solid-varnished-tables variety.

The bar food is excellent - with a good choice of homebaked pies and other dishes, but the fish and chips are really very good indeed.

Now. Two pubs next door to each other, the Yacht and The Trafalgar, both claim to have "the best fish and chips on the river" both with "secret" beer batter recipes. It seemed suspicious - did they share a kitchen or something? I asked the barmaid. She told me that there's a long-standing rivalry between the two and the secret recipe for each is different. More research was needed ...

After exhaustive tests, I have concluded that my personal favourite is that of the Yacht. The batter is crisp and fresh and the chips - none of your pallid French fries nonsense here - slyly invite return visits to your neighbour's plate until you've finished theirs as well as your own. The odd bone is hardly a crime and is amply made up for by the generous portion of mushy peas included. All in all, a good solid pub lunch, and without the baggage that the Greenwich Inc chain (which owns the Trafalgar among others) brings with it. But all that on another day, eh...

The Pepys Visitor Centre

I know, I know. Who apart from rank tourists goes to a visitors' centre?

Well, me, actually. This one is a model for how visitors' centres should be. The people behind the desk know what they're talking about, the selection of local publications both for sale and for free is excellent, and the layout is clear and uncluttered. Nobody bothers you if you're browsing the well-kept, up to date "what's on" racks of leaflets and flyers but they're helpful if you actually want to know anything.

If you go into the main part of the building there's the Old Royal Naval College gift shop which is not half bad, a small group of genuinely interesting displays and a reasonable tourist coffee shop. The loos are free and clean. I heartily recommend that you make it your first stop on arrival in town.

Open House Day at the Dome

So – Open House Weekend. And for the first time I didn't rush around like a blue-arsed fly trying to catch everything. Instead we decided to do one thing – and go out of town for the rest of the mayhem. And that one thing? The Dome of course (Who on God's earth is ever going to call it O2?????)

I figured that this was the last year we were ever going to get to see it anything like empty – and judging from the queues, I wasn't the only one. We walked over more or less first thing and the queue was already three-quarters of an hour long – hurrah for W H Smith and The Sunday Papers.

Of course we weren't going to see it anything like empty – it already looks like a film set for "Brazil" – but it still classes as one hell of a big bugger. It never looks so big from the outside as when you stand in the doorway and just look up.

To be honest we didn't get to see much at all – we weren't actually allowed inside – just at a special viewing area – so much for the promised "hard-hat" tour – but it was interesting to find out the plans – and see jolly user-friendly versions of the map of what's going to be there (or the bits we were allowed to see – is it me – or there is a lot of perhaps unnecessary secrecy going on here – all under the guise of transparency – but dig any deeper than the bit you're officially allowed to know and you meet a very pleasant – but impenetrable stone wall. For starters no photography of any kind was allowed – they made you check anything other than tiny cameras at the gate and you had to put the tiny ones firmly 'away.')

Our cheery PR lady waved her hands around a lot and talked about when "Robbie" is going to be here – not, you understand, that Robbie has been booked or anything – he is just her shorthand for all the megastars who are coming Greenwich-bound in the next few years. She merrily told us about Tutankhamun coming in November next year, the jolly piazza with various "commercial" buildings (no specifics) hotels (ditto) bars (ditto) restaurants (ditto) and shops (ditto) and the intensely dull-sounding British Music Hall of Fame exhibition - worthiness of the variety that would have got it into Dome Mark I.

Still – I guess it's regeneration and let's face it, we'll be sitting on the edge of the biggest entertainments complex in Europe at the end of it. Much, of course, rests on the coming of the Super-Casino – the ominous grinding-sounds of big-business pulling out if we don't get it rumbled in the background – but as far as I could see they're not really concentrating on that now – other than trying to keep their business partners – such as the giant hotel chain (no specifics) who are going to occupy the site next to the dome.

I did wonder whether the visitors staying at the brand new landmark hotel sited conveniently on top of the Blackwall Tunnel will be as delighted with the smell as they will be by the view, and I spent a happy few minutes fantasising that the chemicals factory responsible for those appalling odours may have stopped production of chemicals in favour of concentrating on creating the worst stench imaginable so that they will be paid megabucks to relocate ...

But for the moment most of the plans and theoretical consortia filling this massive empty space are all talk – as is the rumour that I had never heard before that TFL is planning a third Blackwall crossing linking the Peninsula with Silvertown. Presumably this would be a DLR – though as soon as she mentioned it, our cheery PR lady did her best to distance herself from it – nothing to do with Mr Anschutz, she said – which, of course, is true (I hope...)

That would at least, count for the temporary nature of the car parks there, and the dreadful build-quality of the Beckham Football Academy, which only has planning for five years (silly me – I assumed that he had planned it to last as long as his popularity - two years at most.)

It was an illuminating visit – throwing up as many – if not more questions about the project as it answered – certainly most of the questions that were not "fluffy" that people around me asked were skilfully (or not-so-skilfully in at least one case) fielded. I remain a supporter of the Dome project – and of the casino. But I am watching it with a wary eye – there's something niggling at the back of my mind that this will benefit more the people coming to it than those living around it. More updates as I hear them...

GCSE Astronomy

Once again I'm so bloomin' tied up I can't get to this - but others should know about it...

This has to be the most exciting GCSE course in the country – you get to study the stars in the most famous observatory in the world through one of the most famous telescopes in the world.

Just watching that giant domed roof opening slowly on a warm summer night and the giant refractor being slowly cajoled into line with, say, Saturn (the coolest planet in the heavens) is enough to send me into paroxysms of joy (yes I managed to get to see it once - just the once - it looked like someone had gone to the observatory shop, bought a kid's mobile of Saturn and dangled it in front of the lens - so perfect I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.)

You get to learn about the seasons, the Moon, the planets, stars, meteorites, dark matter, the great historical astronomers such as Copernicus, Galileo, Kepler and Newton – you name it. And you get a qualification at the end of it. All for a measly £120, £90 if you're eligible for concessions or a member of the friends of the National Maritime Museum (other museum friendship perks include free tea and coffee in the swanky members' room at the Maritime Museum, and entry to exhibitions.)

www.nmm.ac.uk

Maybe next year....

King William's Restaurant

Leiths is a large, slightly upscale catering firm founded by the superlative cookery writer Pru Leith. They have a rather good cookery school and a series of utterly brilliant "cookery bibles" which are among the most used cookbooks in our kitchen. I particularly recommend The Techniques Bible, The Cookery Bible and The Vegetarian Bible - none of these ever get properly put away in our house.

So it was with high hopes that we regarded the King William Restaurant in the undercroft beneath the stunning Painted Hall in the Old Royal Naval College. They have several outlets in the complex including the Pepys cafe in the Visitors Centre which sells very-slightly-above-average snacks and sarnies at rather-above-average prices.

It took us some time to get around to visiting the KW restaurant because it keeps extremely weird opening hours - no evenings at all, weekday and Sunday lunches only - and closed Saturday for the omnipresent wedding breakfasts that take place in the chapel. It was always closed whenever we passed by in a state of peckishness.

We finally went on a Sunday lunchtime when entertaining a friend from Holland. It's always a bit of a worry going to somewhere new with people you don't know too well, especially foreigners, but - well, frankly I was curious. The place is light and bright for an undercroft, painted white with large pillars surrounding a dancefloor which is permanently set up for weddings. The round tables covered in floor-length tablecloths, too, are very wedding-y and the jolly matrons in black uniform were suitably 'up-market catering.'

And I guess that's where the problem arises. Catering food is fine - and this is pretty reasonable catering quality food. My lobster bisque was tasty and there was plenty of it. The fishcakes were clearly home-made, if rather on the heavy side and my companion's roast was really ok. The wine was perfectly adequate. Naturally our Dutch friend was too polite for her opinion to carry much weight. But we never got away from the feeling that we were just filling in while they waited for the next wedding. The friendly lady who served us told me that during the week they cater for tourist coach parties and I believed it. It was all - well - rather corporate.

Sadly the grand piano was silent in the corner. "Oh he went abroad a couple of months ago," said our waitress on being asked where the promised classical pianist was. "We don't know when he's coming back."

Now forgive me, but the door to this restaurant is OPPOSITE that of one of the top music colleges in London, Trinity School of Music. As you walk to the place the air is filled with the sound of top quality music students practising classical piano in little rehearsal rooms. Students are by their very nature always in need of a little beer money and performance experience. It wouldn't take a genius to follow this one through to its logical conclusion, surely?

All in all, there is nothing spectacularly wrong with King William's Restaurant. It's just unexciting. A possible for rather formal visiting parents, perhaps, but nothing like it could be, given the location and the name...

Olivers

You could very easily miss Oliver's. Tucked away downstairs in a mews opposite the Greenwich Theatre, the entrance looks like the back door to some dodgy dive - and in some respects Olivers is exactly that.

From the faded grandeur of the furniture to the swirling cast iron balcony steps, from the seedy-looking bandstand surrounded by mouldering instruments to the tiny bar itself, Oliver's oozes a louche sexuality so missing in most bars today. Imagine a seedy Weimar Berlin nightclub, add some jazz (there is live music several nights a week - basically whenever its enjoyably eccentric and extremely Gallic owner Olivier decides he fancies some jazz,) light a Gauloise and enjoy the atmosphere. A fabulous, intimate venue, though the piano isn't tuned often enough...

Greenwich Auctions

GREENWICH AUCTIONS

This is one of the great free things to do in Greenwich. Forget Sotherbys - this is the Real McCoy. Greenwich Auctions occasionally gets the odd piece of quality furniture or a stray antique, but on the whole this is the result of house clearances, liquidated stock and people's old junk. And all the better for that, I say. A good half of our furniture comes from that place - and the thrill that this week maybe - just maybe I'll find a gem, keeps me a regular visitor.

It's populated by four main types of people - blokes in puffa body warmers on the lookout for stuff you'll see in Greenwich Antiques Market the next day for ten times the price, trendy young couples after cool kitsch or interesting quirk, curious tourists who were expecting something completely different and, well, everybody else. Actually, there is a fifth type - TV crews. Many of these dreadful daytime TV shows that keep reinventing themselves with minor changes end up here because of the atmosphere. You can tell 'em a mile off - usually a couple of desperate young Meedja-type "experts" in flamboyantly idiosyncratic clothing and square glasses hustling an embarrassed, grinning family round the warehouse like cattle, pointing out what to bid for, followed by scruffy young blokes in jeans with enormous bunches of keys attached to the belts carrying massive cameras. On the day, you always know when these hapless individuals are about to bid for something as the lights suddenly go on, the cameras all point at said hapless individual and everybody ignores them.

The thing is, Greenwich Auctions is really brilliant. To get the best from it you need to go to the viewing on the Friday - the day before. It actually opens on Friday afternoons at 2.00pm – but wait until about 6.00pm because then you can get a glass of the cheapest plonk known to mankind and wander round, catalogue in paw, pretending that you're at Christies.

"What's Lot 398?"
"Um, a Large Quantity of electric kettles..."
"Put a ring round it, will you?"

The guide prices are hilarious. If they don't know what something is, the guide price is a standard £10-£15. If they don't know what it is but it's been cleaned up a bit, the guide price rises to £15-£20. If the guide price is above that mark then it's usually a fairly accurate estimate because they have some idea what the item actually is, but those £10-£15 jobbies are the fascinating lots. They are the ones which will either not even sell for two quid or will suddenly engender a bidding frenzy between two rival collectors. I recently saw a pair of prints that started off at the £10-£15 estimate reach a staggering £500. Riveting stuff.

When you've decided what you want, you just bowl up the next day. The auction is always on a Saturday morning. There's no entrance fee, so you can just wander in. It opens at 10.00am for viewing (no wine this time) and the actually bidding begins at 11.00am sharp.

You go into the little smoke-filled office and collect your number, then sit in one of the old church pews and wait for the fun to begin. The great barn-like warehouse's temperature always seems to be the exact opposite of the weather outside, but you can at least wonder at the decor on the walls - clearly the result of years of unsold lots. Everything from a piano to a coffin lines the walls, as well as several hideous paintings whose unsaleable status is no mystery...

To warm you up, the constant aroma of bacon rolls pervades the place. They go almost as fast as the lots themselves, and mugs of steaming orange tea are also too tempting to miss out on.

Make no mistake. This auctioneer doesn't hang around. He gets though 200-250 lots an hour - even up to 300 - and if you're not fast enough it's your hard luck. Similarly, I've accidentally bought several items where I didn't get my hand down quickly enough after they passed the price I was prepared to pay. But in spite of the speed at which he's going, he still manages to make jokes, be rude about various lots he doesn't care for, and indulge in banter with the bidders.

"Are you sure?" he asks a woman who has snapped up a Barbie-pink leather three-piece suite at £50 which failed to sell for a fiver the week before.

"Come on - the plug's worth that," he says of a particularly vulgar lamp. "Tell yer wot - Start it 'alf price 'n I'll cut the plug off..." And so on. I sometimes go just for the fun of watching him in action. The auction is usually over by about 3.00pm, after which you have until Tuesday to collect your winnings.

The Greenwich Picturehouse

THE grand opening of last year was Greenwich Picturehouse, the latest in the slightly-arthouse chain which is gradually taking over/saving our smaller indie cinemas. It was certainly well-anticipated in this household and we were among the first to take up membership before the place had even opened. Naturally we didn't go for the 'foundation' membership which, at £ 400 seemed a bit steep for benefits which largely amounted to being able to choose the wine that was served in the bar, but the ordinary membership seems excellent value and we're making full use of it.

Of course there were a few teething problems that night - turning an old, non-profitable cinema into a multi-screen picture house is always going to present a few hitches - on opening night there were lots of bits of cardboard which said "I am a plasma screen" or "I am a ticket dispenser" and the ladies' was flooded - but generally, once all the fuss died down, the Picturehouse began living up to expectation. A wide and interesting programme of events which don't always include screenings - comedy and music are both scheduled there, and a lovely bar area (with equally lovely bartenders - both attentive and friendly) make it most definitely a destination in its own right though I think the promised "views of the river" are a little far-fetched unless they start providing periscopes.

There's a gorgeous mini screening room downstairs with very squashy seats (they slide out so that you're virtually horizontal - it's like watching a movie in bed) and a bar, and I even like the chandelier in the foyer (though it's just asking to be plaited by bored teenagers...)

The sliding seats (even though they don't go quite as far as those in the screening room) get top marks - as does the Picturehouse's attitude - hooray for a cinema that treats you like an adult.

Splendid events in the Screening Room downstairs include "Future Shorts" collections of short films by up-and-coming directors. Avoid Thursday morning screenings if you want to be able to actually see the movie - it's their weekly "Big Scream" screening where people with children under one year old can go along and 'enjoy' watching a film surrounded by a hundred other screaming tots being changed by doting parents. I think it's a brilliant idea - it means we all get to see the film - and I thank them for letting me see my version in peace...

Other great innovations are the "Silver Screenings" for over 60s before 6.00pm on a Thursday and the Kids Club on Saturday mornings with games and activities as well as a film so that you can park the little darlings with Someone Else and go off and enjoy the market in some peace. There are even specially-loud screenings for the hearing-impaired and specially-quiet screenings for autistic people.

If you're counting the pennies, on Monday nights all tickets are a fiver, but it's still worth mentioning you're a member when you call, then they don't charge a booking fee.

The tapas bar serves a variety of classic recipes, somewhat erratically presented (that's a kind description.) We've had very muddled service which has missed out some dishes completely. The food is of varying quality too - sometimes ok, sometimes really rather poor - barely cooked potato in the omelette has happened a couple of times now, and I find myself wondering what the large quantities of cream in some dishes are hiding...

I might add that I don't believe the Tapas Bar is anything to do with the actual Picture House except that it occupies the same building.

On the whole, Greenwich Picturehouse gets my thumbs most definitely UP. Filmworks, though geographically closer, will have to work hard to get my personal custom back.

Last night, one year on from all the furore, we decided to visit the Picturehouse again. It's all much as it was - still shiny and new-feeling - though frankly now the mists have cleared from my eyes there are a few improvements they could make - like unplaiting the chandelier (why didn't they see that coming?) and - more urgently - either finding a way to install more ladies loos or at least staggering the endings of films so the queue doesn't reach the Cutty Sark.

That we walked out of A Scanner Darkly isn't really the Picturehouse's fault. I guess it's down to us to ignore the gushing accolades in the brochure - after all even the Picturehouse can't really be totally honest about movies that they are going to show. We picked badly - any film that has to be dressed up with groovy graphics must have something wrong with the plot and when after just half an hour I realised that even the Picturehouse's famously comfy seats couldn't slow down the numbing of my backside, I was grateful when my companion (note newspaper reviewer speak) whispered that he was bored and we quietly left. I noticed some other people doing the same behind us as if they were just waiting for someone else to do it first.

So - to sum up, the Picturehouse is still fantastic. A Scanner Darkly probably never has been. A tedious tale of 'great trips I have known' dressed up in cartoon form with a rotoscope to try to make up for inadequacies of the plot, it is the first movie I have ever walked out of.

Greenwich Picturehouse is one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts.

www.picturehouses.co.uk

The Greenwich Odeon

GREENWICH Odeon

Up until recently, for a long time, the only cinema in Greenwich was the oddly cylindrical Odeon on the Peninsula.

With the sad demise ages ago of the cinema at the Blackheath Standard (now a Somerfields, for chrissake!) and the equally ancient death of the Plaza on Woolwich Road (mainly flats – even the old Chinese restaurant is now a bookie's and rumoured to become a LAP DANCING CLUB – come back Gala Bingo, all is forgiven…) the Filmworks with its extraordinary architecture and wind-tunnel-esque centre core was left to reign supreme.

But like any big fish in a small pond, it got lazy. Firstly, the inability to book seats (most tickets are un-numbered) forces you to queue up and watch all the crummy adverts (yes, yes, I can see the commercial point of it, but...) But the queuing system is so rubbish that there's more order in a rugby scrum and the hapless, usually spotty teenage ushers are ill-equipped to deal with the accompanying frayed tempers.

The queue is also next to the unfeasibly seedy bar area (how can an open-plan bar manage this, I wonder?) and, being the only place where smoking is allowed and therefore more like an opium den than a pub, queuing for the movie makes you feel like a beagle in a laboratory.

Inside, it's ok – as long as you check out the screen you're going to be in – some of the 14 screens are so titchy you might as well get your movie out on DVD and watch it at home – luckily there's a facility on the website to make sure which screen you'll be in. Oh – and forget the "gallery" where you pay squillions extra to book a seat and get a 'free' drink. It's just the back couple of rows with slightly wider seats and in no way does it separate you off from the hoardes of slack-jawed teenagers in front talking throughout the movie.
If you really want to sit at the back, get there early and sit one row in front of the "gallery" with your own pop... it's much the same effect.

The Odeon does have its good points. Firstly, it has 'director's cut' screenings where they show non action/rom-com/superhero stuff at times when they can't get their normal crowd – something to be applauded.

Secondly, it hosts the Greenwich Film Festival – though the blink-and-you'd-miss it advertising doesn't make as much of it as it might.

Thirdly, the armrests move, so you can cuddle up to your date (aaaahhh...) And, of course, it shows the kind of action hero/rom-com fare that make Saturday nights a brighter place. The big screens – of which they have several – are enormous – a true cinematic experience. Oh, and there are movie quotes in the loos – cleverly chosen so that you come out all smug thinking they've quoted them wrong, and then when you check, you have to admit, shamefaced, that they got it right after all.

I wondered what would happen to the Odeon when the Picturehouse opened last year to great general excitement. I feared that there would be some horrible standoff and a bloodbath in which we'd lose both cinemas. As it turns out, it would seem that they do in fact serve different markets - the Odeon seems to cater for the teenage crowds who like hanging around empty shopping centres after closing time; the Picturehouse is after the slightly more cerebral crowd who occasionally like a film with subtitles.

I'm nailing my colours to the mast. I'm a Picturehouse fan myself - though I do occasionally visit the Odeon if I missed something at the Picturehouse - or if it's something that warrants a MASSIVE screen. But though its geographically closer to me, the Odeon just doesn't look after me the way the Picturehouse does. When the screen was fuzzy in the Picturehouse I nipped out to mention it and it was sorted instantly. When the same thing happened at the Odeon, I just got looked at in a "what do you want me to do about it" fashion.

Why I do this

I first got the idea for this blog whilst sitting in Inside - the posh-ish eaterie near Greenwich Station. We were in the middle of getting okay-ish food and extremely indifferent service in a bland atmoshphere when a couple arrived and the place transformed.

Suddenly the music became soft, bread rolls and oil were brought and this particular couple pandered to in a way that meant only one thing. These were the 'reviewers' from a local rag - I can't say which, naturally, as I don't know - but let's face it - they're all the same.

At the risk of being EXTREMELY patronising, let me explain about 99% of local mag/paper restaurant reviews. They are what's known in the trade as advertorial, articles written about places which have already taken out advertising with the paper or magazine concerned.

Advertising is what makes these papers' worlds go round - and it would be suicide to actually give these establishments anything other than glowing reports. What usually happens is that the paper sends cub reporters who take it in turns to eat a free meal with their mate, pre-arranged so that the place can spruce itself up for the picture. Said cub reporter gets to write a nice piece about it the next week, always bearing in mind that it is more than their proverbial job's worth to write anything that might lose the paper precious ad money, and who can blame them? I did it myself when I first started out and Dick Laurie, the then-editor of that august organ The Soho Clarion and all-round-good-bloke, couldn't afford to pay me actual money - so he paid me in restaurant reviews. I literally wrote for my supper. And believe me, finding interesting things to say about Seventh-Day Adventist restaurants which are closed when most people want to eat ain't easy...

Things to look out for in Advertorial Reviews include inordinate raving about everything, and last lines which read something along the lines of "All, in all, the Blank and Blank Gastropub is a welcome addition to Greenwich's nightlife providing both fine food and a great atmosphere for all ages..." - a line straight out of the press release if ever I read one.

Other tell-tale signs include a full-page advert on the page opposite - or more mentions elsewhere in the magazine than even The Fat Duck would merit, including spurious "news" items. Ignore any claims that the reviewers are "independent." It just ain't true. Beware especially, any reviews where the person has gone on at length about the lovely decor - this means the food was rubbish and the poor sub-editor concerned has at least had enough conscience to not mention it.

I can see why the papers do it - it gets them ad money and their junior hacks - always appallingly paid, - get to eat occasionally. I can see why the restaurants do it - it gives them local advertising, editorial control and a cutting to frame in their window. I just can't see why we READERS should have to put up with it - it's worse than useless as it NEVER gives a true evaluation of a place, its food and its service and often gives a false feeling of confidence in an eaterie. It can even have the opposite effect of us not believing it when a joint actually IS good. I have refused to write such 'reviews' for years now - though I have at least been flattered to have been asked on several occasions. Until I actually get to say what I really think, I will not put my name to a review. That's what this blog is all about.

Parrots

PARROTS

Whilst taking a stroll through Greenwich Park yesterday, in the company of people who know more about birdsong than I do (not hard - I can identify a seagull at best) they stopped in their tracks under a tree by the deer enclosure. They insisted the bird call above them was not native.

After a fair amount of squinting and disbelief on my part, we were astonished to see a rather large green parrot sitting about halfway up the leafy canopy, staring down at us somewhat blearily.

Apparently the population of wild parrots living in Britain is increasing at the staggering rate of 30% per year according to a survey by Oxford University. They like suburban gardens best, because people feed them and there are plenty of fruit and berry trees around but they are also becoming common in London parks.

How they got there is subject to serious speculation - most assume they are escaped pets, but other theories range from damaged aviary escapees after the storms of 1987 through a botched Heathrow container load to the accidental release during the making of a film. My own favourite nutty theory is the one that Jimi Hendrix released them on a particularly wild visit in the 1960s.

Luckily there is a charity to support such creatures, so if you suspect a parrot of having been mistreated or lost, then don’t hesitate to contact the wonderfully inclusive Birdline Parrot Rescue, whose mission includes "to provide a refuge to every orphaned, unwanted, and injured parrot regardless of species."

Mycenae House, Mycenae Rd, SE3

Moving on from Westcombe Park, today of all days feels right to talk about Mycenae House. I will explain later.

Mycenae House, a large old Victorian mansion, is now a community centre which houses pretty much all of the events in the local area and seems to have classes going on in its various rooms most days of the week. It has extensive gardens and is a friendly, spacious and not outrageously expensive place to hire from time to time.

Next door is the famous Woodlands – a sad story indeed. This gracious building, originally erected in 1774 by John Julius Angerstein (After whom the Angerstein Pub on Woolwich Road is named though I am not sure he would be delighted to have the scruffy trading estate across the road also named for him.) Angerstein founded Lloyd's of London from humble-ish beginnings. Widely believed to have been the illegitimate son of the Empress of Russia (who was in her turn the illegitimate daughter of Peter the Great,) he was sent to London at 14 to make his fortune.

After putting Lloyd's on a firm footing, being commended by Nelson and contributing to the National Gallery (the gallery's first donor,) he built Woodlands as a retreat from his Pall Mall town house. He wined and dined George III and was friends with the notorious Princess Caroline, who attended parties there.

But it was all downhill after that for this poor old building, still quietly resplendent with its doorway mosaics and beautiful stained glass windows. Nuns took over the building for a long while, and then it was designated a local history centre and art gallery for some time. But the poor old girl was damp – very damp by now, and the artefacts were mouldering in their boxes.

When the brand new Heritage Centre at Woolwich Arsenal was built, Woodlands was denuded of its status and a flood put paid to its life as an art gallery. It currently faces an uncertain future. Most residents want to see it put back to community use – whether this will happen is in the laps of the gods – if you can call the local council gods… The latest thinking is that the Steiner School will take it over - but there are arguments about just how many luxury flats will have to be built in the curretly lovely grounds to pay for it.

Monday Night Jazz at Mycenae House

It's a tribute to Dave and Sandra Silk who ran this evening for what is over ten years now, that it is still continuing to get bigger. The evening sets out with a regular professional trio who form the core for the rest of the night. As the evening progresses, musical guests – both instrumental and vocal - come up and join the band to play for themselves and each other. You get the occasional big name – and local professionals who go down to keep the chops in shape and play for the fun of it – oh – and the traditional curry afterwards. The vocalists – for it is really their night – range from the seasoned professional – smooth crooner Anton Browne is a regular, to the gifted – and not so gifted - amateur. All are given space and the atmosphere is light and fun.

Dappled with the odd dancer or poet, there is a camaraderie among these players of all abilities which is quite addictive. Some of these people have been coming as long as stalwart Dave Silk has been running the place. Long may it continue.The reason I write about it today is the sad fact that yesterday I attended the funeral of Sandra Silk who co-ran the club with Dave.

Sandra frankly often ended up the voice of reason behind a lot of Dave's delightful but wild schemes and yet was supportive - and tirelessly worked for the cause of jazz in Greenwich to the end. She will be sadly missed, though I suspect that her legacy will continue through the deep foundations she made for the Monday night club at Mycenae House.

Westcombe Park

WESTCOMBE PARK

Sounding a bit like a country pile straight out of a Jane Austen novel, this delightful half-run-down-half-really-rather-swish area engenders a great love in its residents. So much so that the Westcombe Society – made up merely of the handful of streets south of the railway line around Westcombe Park Station has its own monthly newspaper which is of a consistently high standard.

The houses, clinging to the side of the hill leading up to Blackheath, are nearly all Victorian, often very large indeed (though many have been converted into tiny apartments) and generally in beautiful condition. Encaustic tiled paths and stained glass doors are still plentiful and I guess there aren't TOO many nasty conversions.

I've got my name down on the waiting list for the stunning Humber Road Allotments (breathtaking views of Canary Wharf) but I've got a long wait – eleven years and counting, according to the lady at the council. Given that I'm number 23 on the list, there's just 11 plots and people only give them up when they die, I'd say that was actually a rather generous time allowance...

The Westcombe News (delivered free to residents but available from the newsagents at the station if you're unlucky enough not to live in the catchment area) keeps a close eye on the environment affecting the whole of Greenwich and encourages a small but persistent group of lobbyists to complain loudly about 'wrong' things in the area. The noticeboard section at the back is useful for local tradespeople, but as I've found to my cost, some are gems and others total cowboys.

JOY, 9, Nelson Rd

Number 9, Nelson Road, houses JOY - a delightful, fun fashion shop purveying frothy clubwear, brightly-coloured junk jewellery, clever party jokes and general kitsch.

I adore this shop because it not only has fun stuff to buy as presents for 'difficult' people, plays obscure 1950s Rockabilly and stocks gorgeous 1940s-style peep-toe platforms to die for, but it is the most curious of stores architecturally too.

For a long while I used to be totally baffled as to what this was before its present incarnation. It's part of the delightful Regency parade surrounding the Market place, and, like its immediate neighbours, has a fabulously curlicued wrought iron number plate and a grand little series of wrought-iron balconies on the first floor. If it's a warm day the window to the balcony will be open and you can peer through gossamer-light bead curtains onto the street below. The shop has wisely retained two stunning carved and polished wood fireplaces, and, oddest of all, the room at the back of the first floor, now used as a dressing room area.

Was this an early bathroom, I used to ponder. It has a mosaic-tiled floor, tiles around the walls and a delicate stained glass window. Frankly, it's worth trying something on just to take a peek.

My agony was finally eased on Saturday when I discovered that this was a late Victorian GAS SHOWROOM, of all things. Basically, gas was such a trendy - and expensive - commodity in the late 19th century that it was worth having exquisite showrooms to sell it with, which accounts for the number of gas jet holes all over the place - not that I'd have put two and two together. I gather that gas was rather nouveau-riche as a concept - perhaps the equivalent of - oh - I don't know - hot tubs now, but at least the showroom was stunning. Go check it out.

In the same parade is a florist, which seems to sadly foretell of the impending social fall of Greenwich. Let me explain. My great friend Tim has a theory that places on the social up-and-up NEVER have florists that actually display flowers in the window. It's all designer-led squirly sticks, miniature galvanised buckets containing dyed moss and Japanese twigs. This shop used to be much the same. Recently, however, it has branched out and has actually started to sell a few blooms too. Trendy fashionable blooms, of course - no fuchsias here, mate - but blooms all the same. It too, is a lovely shop architecturally, (though to me it always somehow looks closed despite the displays outside) and one of these days I will actually dress up posh and make it inside...

Joy is one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts.

The Union Pub

Royal Hill.

This is best known for its beer. Greenwich Meantime Brewery is justly renowned for its attention to detail and fine ales and The Union is its preferred watering hole. A friend of ours who travels all over the world writing books about beer still reckons that the Meantime Brewery is among the best - certainly in Britain. I guess we're lucky to have a local pub that only serves decent brews. Of course this means nothing to me as a non-beer drinker, but my partner is a big fan and is always delighted to sample a new beer in the name of Quality Control.

I confess that beer is the best thing the Union pub does. Saturday was our latest visit. They're friendly enough - though admittedly we weren't allowed to sit where we liked in an otherwise empty pub because they were expecting a "large party" - who never turned up.

They supply papers so you can lounge around reading and drinking, but - well - for me, the place lacks atmosphere. Decent beer goes a long way - but this place is either full of hideous trendy types - or empty of anything other than the aforesaid beer. The menu looked ok on Saturday so we decided to forgo The Hill, which we were on our way to (they do good chips) and try out the food.

It took several beers to arrive though I didn't mind too much as the music was good. Trouble is - the food just isn't much cop. I had to send my fish and chips back - the fish was still uncooked, inside very underdone batter. The second version frankly wasn't much better - sloppy, watery, anaemic and bland. The chips were a similar pale cream colour. My partner's food was just about ok - but as he admitted - what can go wrong with a baguette?

As we were leaving the trendy brigade was trickling in - suddenly we just didn't feel even slightly welcome any more. It needs more than good music and beer to make a pub work - and somehow I realised that I was never going to fit in here. My partner's a big fan of the beer - but you can buy it in bottles from The Cheeseboard down the road. We won't be bothering with the pub any more.

Jools Holland's Studio

JOOLS HOLLAND'S STUDIO

Ever stood on the west end of Platform One at Westcombe Park Station and wondered what the rather startling apparition is up the slope above you? That rather odd Gothic building with the arched windows high breezeblock walls, strange cupolas, classical pediments and curious tower with a whale-shaped weather vane, which lights up at night? So did I.

It took a brainy friend of mine, Mike, who absorbs information like a sponge mops up spills (he once unapologetically recited the London to Dartford line timetable) to put me out of my misery. It's the local pad and studio of that jovial jazzman Jools Holland. Being a local lad, the ex-Squeeze-boy must have had his eye on that old station house for years and snapped it up when he could.

I understand he's decorated the old gothic, boarded building in suitably eccentric fashion. Of course, we don't get to see much of it as it's got high walls and solid gates (though you'd have thought he'd have rendered the outside so the world didn't KNOW it was all made of breezeblock) but I think I prefer it that way.

Nothing real could live up to the image I have in my mind of what it's like inside. For me the place is the closest thing to a modern day folly that this dull age of the purpose-built and functional can muster, and I raise my glass to Mr Holland for not only creating some great music, but a fun building too, to cheer the soul every time one sees it.

Recently, The Nosy Phantom has noticed much building work going on around the back by the shops at the station. A peek over the fence reveals a fabulous-looking Victorianate street and what looks suspiciously like his own private pub, the Holland Arms. Absolutely brilliant. Though he would not make a song and dance about them, (and I am reliably informed that he won't talk about them at all) Jools Holland's studios must be one of the wonders of Greenwich. Not that I've ever made it inside those hallowed portals – oh no – I've hinted enough times to my mate who's in his band, but he's not having any of it, so I have to be content to do like everyone else and just fantasise about what lies behind that breezeblock exterior...

Theatre of Wine

THEATRE OF WINE

God - if only there were more shops of this quality in East Greenwich...

Situated on the otherwise rather scruffy Trafalgar Road, hardly a paragon of upmarket fashion, Theatre of Wine seduces you even before you know quite what it actually is. It is a wine store - but such a wine store. With stripped wooden floors, gilt shabby-chic furnishings, plush velvets and a music stand announcing the opening hours, it doesn't take much working out that this is run by an ex-actor.

The thing is - ToW actually delivers what it promises. So many places look fancy but don't come up with the goods, but Theatre of Wine has a dedicated team who search out the very best wine and present it unfailingly beautifully. The high wooden shelves, topped with bizarre memorabilia, old theatrical props and ancient wine advertisements are crammed with bottles, each with a little cardboard label explaining why the owners love that particular wine.

There is really only one time to go to Theatre of Wine. Thursday evening. Although you can just pop in to buy stuff that night, Thursday nights (and the odd Tuesday) are tasting nights. A large trestle table groans with glasses, foodie bits and samples of the stuff you're going to drink. An odd collection of seating awaits - make sure you arrive early - there are one or two 'comedy' fun-fur pouffes for latecomers which look like they're been whisked from some 1970s tart's parlour. Actually though, if you arrive REALLY late you get seated in the table in the window - fab.

Each week has a theme, but it is never stuffy or preachy. They're sometimes even rude - or at least honest - about their own buying mistakes. There's usually a massive gourmet cheese or interesting nibbles to go with it and though spittoons are supplied Daniel's very understanding if you prefer to just drink your samples (most do.)

Booking is advised as the numbers are limited. Prices range from around £12 per person to over £50 depending on what kind of drinks are being tested.

Every so often they run a six-week wine tasting course for beginners, run by the quietly-spoken but very knowledgeable Jake - definitely money well spent. But if you're not certain, ask any of the friendly staff to recommend stuff and they'll bend over backwards to help.

Out of interest, Daniel Ilsley, ToW's owner, made a short film set in Greenwich and its environs last year. A fine little movie which premiered at one of their own tasting nights and then featured in the irritatingly ill-publicised Greenwich Film Festival. I wish it luck with wider distribution.

I happily endorse Theatre of Wine as one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts

www.theatreofwine.com

The Peninsula Shopping Centre

PENINSULA SHOPPING CENTRE

A word to the wise. Avoid the Peninsula shopping area at weekends. No really, I'm serious. I've never seen so many frayed tempers, grumpy gits, extraordinarily bad driving and screaming children. Much of the blame for this has to be laid at the feet of whoever designed the ridiculous thing.

Ok, I know that it's a dirty topic - to say that you actually like cars in this day and age – but making people so angry they crash them is not a very clever way to get them off the road. There are two entrances to the Sainsburys/Comet/B&Q/Odeon bit, neither of them well-designed, both neatly arranged so that once you're in you can't get out. Sleeping policemen so vicious they scrape the bottom of your vehicle ensure that people take stupid short cuts and little dead ends that create the necessity for 35-point turns don't add to the day's shopping experience in a good way. All in all, by the time you get to B&Q and realise that once again there's only TWO cash desks open, you're ready for a punch up with anyone who'll take you on. I have seen fisticuffs on more than one occasion.

I actually recently witnessed someone smashing up someone else's car in a moment of road rage in the queue to get out of there whilst the poor devil sat terrified inside, desperate for the lights to change so they could get away from the maniac, and I noticed yesterday one of those police incident boards requesting witnesses to a family being robbed in broad daylight. Whatever is this world coming to? REDESIGN THAT BLOODY CAR PARK!!!!!!!

The "other" shopping centre; the one that is nominally in Charlton, with Asda, Smiths, Next, Argos etc, is even worse. They've got special little posts to stop people backing into parking spaces too far, cunningly designed so that they're IMPOSSIBLE to see from your rear view mirror, which you back into BECAUSE YOU CAN'T SEE THEM.

I've just done £200-worth of damage to my bumper. And that's another thing – why don't bumpers bump any more???? They're just brittle, flimsy bits of painted plastic. RUBBISH. But if they made the posts six foot tall and fluorescent we wouldn't bump into those sodding posts in the first place. I know I'm not the first because they're the colour of Joesph's bloomin' dreamcoat.

Take my advice – just don't go there.

In between the two, in the little road that has the Royal Mail Sorting Office, there is a scruffy little parade of odd warehouse-type stores, called the Angerstein Business Park. Most of them are airline bucket shops and Chinese catering supplies, but there is a very good discount bathroom centre, called JEM, which has a wide variety of suites and knock-down prices and the intriguingly-named Greenwich Diving Centre.

If you're into Chinese food, the See-Woo Chinese supermarket is also here. It's always packed – don't bother with the main car park, go straight through to the overflow one next door – and stocks a sublime mix of ingredients, fresh food and giant catering packs of rice. It's nominally a cash and carry – but they serve me. My Mum loves visiting their cookware section, where they have a splendid array of party lanterns, dishes, toys, dragons and baffling paper clothes. I've found the people to be friendly too, whether fellow customers or assistants – happy to help when they've seen me wandering around clutching a shopping list looking lost. Oh – and at Christmas they give out cool calendars.

Loos in Greenwich

LOOS

I have a notoriously poor bladder - so I always like to know the location of the nearest "house of easement," as HRH Henry VIII used to call them back in the days when his chapel wasn't under 10 feet of car park ...

I avoid on principle those nasty "superloos" (of which there is one just outside Greenwich Pier next to the foot tunnel.) The only time I went in one it played "Thriller" as the rounded door slid open, revealing the innards of the bog to all and sundry around, still dripping from its routine slooshing with disinfectant. I sat there terrified for the short time I was in there, that the magic door would slide majestically open again revealing me sitting there with my knickers down.

If you're caught short during office hours, make straight for the Visitors Centre just next to the Cutty Sark. The loos are free, clean and there are enough of them, even on a busy day, to ensure a not-too long wait.

The National Maritime Museum is free - so you could nip in there - though remember to factor-in enough time to obtain the obligatory free ticket. When you've got past the ticket desk turn immediately left and the loos are pretty much in front of you. There are some more at the back, for the more advanced or less desperate.

The toilets near the car park in Greenwich Park are pretty ok, and the ones inside the Observatory are positively nice. Both are free. Round the back of the Observatory in the park, on the side of the road there are some perfectly adequate loos - again with a proper attendant.

Underneath the Painted Hall there are some lavatories in the undercroft near King William Restaurant (a Leiths restaurant which keeps singularly peculiar opening hours) and there are some loos downstairs in the Chapel - though they won't always tell you about them.

The best public toilets in Greenwich are on King William Walk. Works of municipal architectural art in themselves, these splendid mid 20th C toilets are some of the few remaining downstairs conveniences which used to populate London's streets that are still open. Kept immaculately clean by proper real live attendants and with their original (1930s? I'm not sure - any ideas, anyone?) tiling and furniture, they are a joy to use. I am not aware of any "other" uses for the Gents - but maybe someone can enlighten me (not too many details, please…)

The new picturehouse, though exemplary in practically every respect, is woefully short on loos - especially if they time the films to end at the same time. Your best bet if you're stuck at the back of a mile-long queue is to nip down the road to Cafe Rouge and sneak through to the loos there - from the entrance head right - they're at the back.

East Greenwich is rubbish for accessible public loos. If the Forum is open, the loos are open to the public, ditto Maze Hill Station. I always assumed that the public bogs behind Discount Cycles were closed but someone on this blog has told me they are unlocked from time to time - they are rank, but do the job at a pinch. Otherwise, cross your legs and nip into the teletubby Sainsburys or B&Q (at the back, near the mirrors) on the Peninsula

Greenwich is one of the coolest "uncool" places there is in London. It's not profoundly unfashionable - rather somewhere that it doesn't occur to people that there is anything more than a few museums, a nice park and the Cutty Sark. The really adventurous might know about the Trafalgar Tavern or venture out to Greenwich market on a Sunday afternoon, but essentially, Greenwich is still relatively undiscovered for one of the great regions of London.

I adore the place - but I'm not blind to its faults either. In this journal I take an affectionate but honest - at times brutally so - look, giving my own personal low-down on the things to do – and one or two of the things not to do in Greenwich.

I am being unashamedly parochial here. I will talk about the tourist sites, of course - how could I not when we have a World Heritage Site on our doorstep – but also about the things which make our town great - the little things. Interesting vistas, cool shops, bizarre novelties and quirky one-offs which make this place buzz.

Happily, the transport problems of yesteryear are remedied and Greenwich is fast catching up with the rest of London - especially now the Olympics are on their way. But with that new-found popularity comes attendant problems - over-development is threatening the old businesses and quirkiness that makes Greenwich different. High street chains are buying up the rents of the one-off stores and the universal blandness which has already hit Covent Garden and Carnaby Street looms over Greenwich like a huge Sword of Damocles.

As I write this, the Lord Hood pub in Creek Road, one of the last bastions of live music, is under mortal threat from developers - by the time this actually gets read it may be gone. The coins and medals shop in the high road has already disappeared, and the exclusive Art Deco emporium Deco Mania is going. Eagle Antiques, one of the last true junk/antique emporia is now destined to become subsumed into the restaurant next door and part of the market has already been earmarked for luxury flattery. All we can do is protest LOUDLY - and hope that somebody hears.