Greenwich Time Ball

It's one of those wonderful oddities of London which makes our city so vibrant. In the same way that we don't actually need beefeaters marching around a dead royal palace with a bunch of keys every night, an annual dinner for two warring livery companies to settle medieval differences or a bloke in black to open parliament every session, there is no real necessity for us to squint up at the Greenwich skyline at 1.00pm to set our watches, but if we ever catch the Greenwich Time Ball at that microsecond when it drops, we feel a little shiver of excitement; a little link with our maritime past.

It all goes back to that old chestnut of longitude, which I promise I'm not going into today. The problem had been more or less solved by the end of the 18th Century, but none of John Harrison's splendid clocks was going to stand a cat's chance in hell if they weren't set correctly to start with. Trouble was, that they didn't have radio-controlled digital timepieces in those days. A few people, such as ships' captains had clocks and watches, and the ships themselves, by the 19th Century, had chronometers, but they were useless if they couldn't be set.

They'd been experimenting with the idea of time balls in Portsmouth and in 1833, it was suggested by one Captain Robert Wauchope that Greenwich would be an ideal place for one for the Thames. John Pond, who was Astronomer Royal at the time, thought it was a great idea and the Admiralty agreed - Greenwich Observatory was well-placed, up a hill, and with the right instruments to gauge the time accurately. I doubt that Pond was quite as pleased when he realised that it would be the job of the astronomers working there to toil up the stairs of the little tower, haul the ball to the top of the weather vane then drop it at one o'clock every day, rain or shine, when they could be doing a million other, more exciting things.

Nevertheless, the world's first public time signal was duly manufactured by Maudslay, Son & Field. A giant red ball, with a winch, was installed. The ball was originally made of leather, which must have become like lead when sodden with winter rain.

I'm not going to go into the concept of standard time and GMT today - do try to contain your excitement, I'll come to it ;-) Suffice to say that the Observatory was central to anything that went on throughout the 19th Century to do with Railway Time, Local Time or any other time. But all through that time the Greenwich Time Ball was hoisted to the top of its little pole at two minutes to, then dropped precisely at one o'clock. As the years passed, telegraphic communication helped to let people across the globe know what the time was, but Greenwich remained at the centre.

Today the ball is automated - there are no more astronomers left to winch it up and let it drop. But it continues to do so by machine, every day like - well, like clockwork, I guess. It's aluminium these days, but still a big bugger. I heard they had to take it down for a spruce-up recently and it proved exceeding unwieldy.

Why 1.00pm rather than midday? At first I was told that it was because the astronomers were always doing important experiments at midday when the sun is at its apex, but more recently I've heard that it's because in order to know the exact time you have to know noon. Since you're actually waiting for noon, it's difficult to be really accurate, so once the astronomers saw noon, they could actually count more accurately to 1.00pm.

I am terribly fond of our time ball. Not least because it's discreet. If you don't know to look for it you might miss it completely. If you need the time it's there (set your watch precisely "1.00pm" the moment the ball drops) if you don't need to know, you don't get bothered. As a local resident, I guess I'm quite glad I'm not in Edinburgh where 1.00 is signalled with a cannon...

Arches Leisure Centre

Trafalgar Road, SE10

The Arches are not, I confess, somewhere I frequent on a regular basis. Every so often I make a bit of effort and go for a week or so then somehow sink among the waves of apathy.

It's nothing to do with the facilities. They're really not bad at all. Built in 1928, the place has two pools, originally, would you believe, 'First' and 'Second' class. The 'First' class pool is what is now known as the 'Fitness' pool, roped into lanes of various abilities - from plodders to fitness freaks. Laning-off manages to avoid at least most of the problems, not least those pensioners who insist on doing widths, backstroke, across all the lanes, stopping suddenly for a chat with their mate just when you're trying to plod past in the opposite direction. It doesn't prevent the butterfly-stroke-show-offs, though, who plough past you in a fury of water sending everyone else flying in their wake.

But this isn't a post about pool etiquette, it's about the pool itself. What I love about it is the little individual cubicles running along each long side. They have swing doors, some with little modesty flaps in bright colours hanging from the top and are so cute, if rather battered now, that they just cannot survive any modernisation that may or may not (what do you think) that may go on. Neither, sadly, will the now-virtually-redundant stages that grace the ends of both pools. I like to think that they either drained the pools occasionally or covered them with a dance floor for balls and events and the stage was for bands. Of course it could be far more prosaic and the platform was just used for the Lady Mayoress, resplendent in giant picture hat and beaded dress to dole out the cups after swimming galas. It's painted with a jolly 1920s-style mural now and still has some of its original deco fittings.

Trivia - there is a scene at the pool in Camilla May's The Dead of Summer (see 'Books.')

The other (ex-'Second class') bath is now a 'leisure' pool - which at least separates the dive-bombing teenagers and toddlers who haven't yet quite managed bladder-control from the 'serious' swimmers. It has a very shallow end and little extra pools with fake sandcastles and rocks so that it can be easily cordoned off for classes and tinies. There seem to be a lot of classes of various descriptions. I have never seen anyone shooting down the curly slide, but that may have more to do with the fact that I don't frequent the pool enough than it's not being used.

There are two studios, one big, the other tiny, also used for classes. It is sometimes filled with squashy cushions for a creche. Right at the back there's a gym. It's not too full of scary muscle-men and not as intimidating as some I have been to. Plenty of baffling machines which, despite the fact that I once, Very Long Ago, had an induction, I can never remember how to use. I quite like the vibrating plate, but that's probably more information than you need. You can watch TV whilst you're on the bikes, but given the general standard of TV, both daytime and evening, you may choose to bring your own entertainment.

Uncertainty hangs like a sword of Damocles above the Arches roof. Given that rumblings and rumours of a new leisure centre at the Old District Hospital Site bubble under the surface and that the close proximity of The Arches to the centre of Greenwich makes it prime luxury-flat development potential, I don't hold out much hope for the place long-term. It's already looking tired round the edges (despite a refurb not so long ago in Local Council terms) but I don't see it ever being spruced up again. I don't know if it's listed (where can one find a list of listed buildings? I've searched and searched but at the moment if you're not an official you can only see a list in Swindon. I must check at the Heritage Centre...) but I reckon it is of 20th Century interest and I would hope that it wouldn't just be pulled down by developers. Surely they must be able to do something interesting with the existing building?

In the meanwhile, happy splashing...

The Greenwich Park Bowl?

Fin writes:

I was walking in Greenwich Park today and came across a circular fenced-off area in the south-west corner, just north of the tennis courts. It had a rusty iron fence around it and a locked gate with signs that said 'Hazard - Keep Out'. Naturally curiosity got the better of me and i climbed in, to find a large raised area of grass like an inverted bowl. Steps ran up one side and joined an overgrown row of paving slabs running along the centre of the bowl, with some sort of metal grill right in the centre. This 'path' was also lined with what looked like those hook-shaped ventilation pipes you get on ships. I didn't venture far in case the ground gave way or something, but I am most intrigued. Can you or your readers enlighten me as to what this area is, or was? Unfortunately i didn't have a camera on me otherwise I'd send you a picture.

The Phantom replies:

What is this - Greenwich Enigma Day or something? This seems almost as much of a mystery as Miss Mott.

There is so much to be discovered in that seemingly tiny patch we call Greenwich Park that it doesn't surprise me that there's something new and hitherto undiscovered somewhere off the beaten track. I vaguely know where you're talking about, I think. I wonder - is it in line with the red brick building that's part of the underground water system? It could be part of the notorious tunnels in Greenwich Park which date back several hundred years (see The Greenwich Phantom: Tunnels in Greenwich Park ) but it sounds too recent to really be connected with it. Given the way that the land seems to cave in at a moment's notice round here you were probably wise not to tread any further. It does sound like a reservoir. Something banging at the back of my brain tells me that Greenwich University did some low-level experiments in the park way back, but I thought it was all cleared away. Actually, I may be completely wrong; thinking about it, it could have been the Peninsula. Or somewhere else entirely.

Basically what I'm saying is that I don't know. I'm hoping that someone from the Friends of Greenwich Park will read this and be able to tell you. In the meanwhile, I'll do a spot of digging (not literal.) Watch this space.

When is someone going to write a really in-depth topographical study of Greenwich Park? Or is there already one that I don't know about?

Incidentally, folks, I'm sure Fin wouldn't mind my telling you about his own website that he 'accidentally' left the address of on the bottom of his mail. He's a local playwright and poet and you can find him here http://www.finkennedy.co.uk/

Creek Road Update

David Herbet writes:

Heard only on Thursday that LBG Planning Board are going to consider the application for the Creek Road/Bardsley Lane site this coming Thursday 31 May, 6.30 pm at Woolwich Town Hall.

It's likely to be the last chance for anybody to speak to prevent this most unsuitable development and save the open space and the trees.

Hard to believe the Board will postpone a decision again as this is the 5th time the developers have put forward their application and the 3rd time it will have been put to the Board.


Just to remind you, David lives at 258 Creek Road - the stand-alone house in the middle of the proposed Creek Road Development. Good luck, David - let us know how you get on...

Helena Pare Lydia Mott

Today I bring you a total mystery. In vain I have searched for information about the poet Helena Pare Lydia Mott, who lived at 115 Maze Hill. There is a glorious 1951 plaque to her, in flowing rococo-style, with what I can only assume is a verse of hers engraved into it.

The summer's breath is spent upon the hills
Behold, remember and rejoice
She seems to say
I give you colour
That the colour of your winter
May be eased
Until I come again.

And, er, that's it. I have consulted books, googled her to infinity, asked anyone I know who might have a clue - and drawn a complete blank.

I find it remarkable that such a splendid house, with such a grand plaque has absolutely no reference to it - or the person to whom it relates - anywhere that I can find. This is only just over 50 years ago. Is someone so important that she warranted a memorial in 1951 so easily forgotten?

Does anyone out there in Greenwich Cyberville know anything about her? In the meanwhile I will continue to delve and update you if I find anything.I guess Greenwich without mystery would be a dull place indeed.

BTW I will be coming to No. 111 Maze Hill and its more famous but un-plaqued resident very soon...

Peter Harrison Planetarium

The Old Royal Observatory, Greenwich Park

I'm sure that most people remember the lovely, cranky old planetarium at the Old Royal Observatory which closed a few years ago to make way for this new development. About 30 people per sitting got to climb up a bunch of fiddly old backstairs, right up to the very top of what is apparently "South Building" (which always felt slightly 'naughty' - being allowed somewhere which was obviously not really for the likes of us) and sit round the edge of the old dome on 1950s plastic benches (red, if memory serves) and gaze up at a cardboard cut-out silhouette of the London skyline while some wonderfully crusty old boffin in a knitted tie and baggy trousers gave us a commentary of our journey through the sky at night. It was always a bit of a lottery as to how interesting your particular crusty old boffin would be, but usually they were delightful and as fascinated as I was. There is something rather special about being talked to by a real astronomer...

I used to love that old place, with all its quirks and idiosyncrasies but if I stopped being romantic for just one second, it was hardly cutting-edge and fell way short of being everyone's idea of a good day out...

They closed the place three years ago, promising us a brand new one. If I'm honest, I didn't believe them. I thought it would be like when the BFI closed MOMI "for refurbishment" to avoid an outcry from furious film fans, then quietly never re-opened (they lost my membership over that - not, I guess, that they care. )

The Observatory needed stupid amounts of cash - they already had some - enough to rebuild the South Building into new galleries, but the extra required to include a planetarium seemed nigh-on impossible. I gave my own paltry sum, but it was a drop in the ocean. However it would seem that the National Maritime Museum has a lot of friends, all of who put in their own sums, presumably some of which amounted to rather more than paltry - for now it has re-opened, in sumptuous splendour and not a penny seems to have been pinched anywhere.

I have already talked about the Time Galleries in the really old bit, so I won't go into them here (you'll find them somewhere in my rambling archives...) The new bit really amounts to a load of stuff that hasn't been properly open to the public ever before, so it's all fabulous brand-spanking new.

The little observatory that they use for looking at the movements of the sun has had a spruce-up. You still can't go in there, but it is such a pretty little building that it's a joy to look at anyway. I would guess it's the same age as the old South Building, which has also had a clean up so that all its Victorian finery (which some said was over-fancy, I say is glorious) is back to red-brick newness. I'll come to that in a sec.

What is between the two is a bit of a surprise, and takes a tiny bit of acclimatisation, but once you are used to it, it's just as enjoyable as the other buildings. It's a sort of truncated cone made in bronze which houses the new planetarium's dome. I had originally assumed they didn't want yet another dome in Greenwich after the dubious success of its most recent ancestor, but I am told it's that shape to avoid the bad acoustics that you get in other domes. It looks like a giant metal iceberg, floating in the concrete sea between the two Victorian buildings, and that's not a bad analogy as it turns out.

But back to the South Building. Apparently, because it was built for observation, it had a massive brick plug down the middle of it to support the weight of the telescope in the roof. This made it an absolute rubbish building for everything else, and it was just a warren of tiny little offices. Once they'd calculated that if they took the middle bit out the rest of the building wouldn't fall down, they were able to completely redesign the interior, so there's nothing of the original left (save the dome right at the top which has been made into a conference room and which the public can't see, chiz.)

The guard told me that in order to put the gigantic spiral staircase down the middle, they had to remove part of the wall, then put it back again. I'm not entirely sure I believe that, but stranger things have been known. It's a stunning staircase, linking all the floors and reflecting the original brick plug.

On the middle, entry level there are three galleries - the usual interactive, heavily curriculum-oriented exhibits we are used to in all our major museums nowadays. It's fun, and, like the rest of the Maritime Museum, great for people with a passing rather than deep interest in the subject. I can see it appealing to school parties, which is presumably their prime target. I enjoyed it, because, frankly, it's pretty much on my own level of knowledge, but I was with people who are much more interested and I think they could have taken a little more depth.

Above that are classrooms. Some have computers (I suspect they will be using those for that fantastic GCSE Astronomy course they run) others are more for schools.

Downstairs the fun really begins. The basement covers virtually the whole of the concrete patio bit above and is much bigger than you'd think. The bulk of it is, naturally, the planetarium.

It is a massive dome, as you might expect, but what I didn't expect is that instead of like every planetarium I have ever set foot in before, these seats are all in rows facing one direction - like a theatre. This felt strange and unsettling and that feeling didn't leave me all the time I was there. We were advised to fill up from the back. I only sat four rows from the back, but I already had difficulty seeing absolutely everything that was going on behind me and I really pity the poor sods who, having paid their six quid, had to sit in the front row. I can't imagine they got to see very much at all. I am baffled by the decision to place the seats in this configuration - at best you get a neck-ache, at worst you don't get to see anything at all. Next time I have £ 6 I will go in and deliberately sit at the front to see just how good or bad a view I get.

The show is amazing, though. I dread to think how much that projector cost, but the clarity of the images is stunning. The script is, again, basic and aimed at children and the mildly interested (yeah, ok - me...) but the beauty of it is that you come away wanting to know more. I am told that there will be other shows of various complexity rolled out as the planetarium matures, which will be shown in repertory.

Most of it is utterly fascinating, though I could have done with a few fewer comparisons. I don't think there were any of the really terrible double-decker-bus/ football pitches /n-times-the-size-of-Wales cliches, but there were a lot of them and some of them made me cringe a little - one that went something along the lines of "more stars in the sky than heartbeats in the whole of human existence" for example...

I would argue that it's not for real tinies or very sensitive children - there are a few things that would have kept me awake at night as a child. Let me explain. I remember a sleepless six months or so as a small child, after having seen a programme about how rabies was just about to invade Britain. I don't think it was a 'bad' programmes - a sort of Panorama-type thing - but I was one of those kids prone to a fertile imagination and unchecked exaggeration, with no sense of proportion. Every day for months I was utterly paralysed with fear before the 6.00 o'clock news, waiting to hear the headline in case I was going to be turned into some raving, frothing lunatic (no gags, ok?) I never told my parents because I thought they would laugh but the thought distressed me a lot. In a very small part of this show, ideas such that the sun could explode at any time, or a meteorite could crash into Earth causing the end of the world (I paraphrase) are usually - but not always - given the "but this is extremely unlikely in our time" caveat. Maybe I'm being oversensitive myself here but just to warn you guys, you might want to talk to your kids afterwards to make sure they're not eaten up with silent trauma.

The show I saw was not with a live commentary. I understand that there are live, real astronomers doing the shows and that the recorded show is just a back-up for when they're not available. That will make it much better.

So. A big thumbs-up for this new, exciting attraction here on our doorstep, with a couple of minor grumbles - those seats will give you a crick in the neck - arrive early and get in the back row - and some of the exhibits are a bit entry-level knowledge - but that's what we have to expect these days from a government policy that calls "inclusivity" pandering to the lowest common denominator. I think that given that they just wouldn't have been allowed to do a really in-depth presentation, the NMM has provided exhibits which are fun and exciting, and which invite further private study...

Go see.

Mary Evans Picture Library

Tranquil Vale, SE3

I have been passing this odd and rather beautiful building for some time now, wondering what on earth who Mary Evans was, and what a picture library bearing her name is doing in Blackheath.

In my head I had images of some doughty Edwardian lady, somewhere along the lines of an Emily Pankhurst or a Gertrude Jekyll. Perhaps she was a writer - a Sitwell - or a painter - a Gwen John. In my fertile imagination she had grown up playing in the fields around Blackheath, learning to love every blade of grass, every leaf of tree - the butcher's boy's whistle, the postman's cheery greeting. That extraordinary house had been commissioned by her slightly bohemian parents in the style of that nice Mr Morris down the road at Bexleyheath and now she lived in it, the collection of paintings she had amassed with care and sensitivity visited by members of the fashionable London Set, her name as a woman of taste and elegance assured right through until the 1920s, by which time she had created a bit of a New York scandal by being painted in the nude by John Singer Sargent at the rip old age of 87. She was, of course, a spinster - a beautiful bluestocking who scared off a multitude of suitors with an acidly-accurate tongue, her only true love her painting collection...

I guess I could have been more wrong, but it's safe to say I couldn't have been much more wrong...

The Mary Evans Picture Library is, at least, the brainchild of a Blackheath woman of taste. But rather than grand paintings housed in the strange Arts & Crafts (? - as regular readers will know my knowledge of architecture isn't always spot-on) 'cottage' at the top of Tranquil Vale, it is a collection of images ranging from the great and powerful - international events and famous people - to small, seemingly insignificant pictures that enrich our lives and decorate everything from TV programmes to newspaper articles.

They're just over 40 years old as a company - and it's a family-run business. So much for my sturdy Edwardian spinster. Mary and Hilary Evans started it in 1964 and have recently been joined by their daughter Valentine. There's a great photo on the website from the early years of the three of them in front of the filing cabinets where the images were (and possible still are) stored, little Valentine merely playing with the bottom drawer. It was, like all great businesses which last, founded on a personal passion, Mary's vast collection of prints, engravings, drawings and photos.

It's a commercial collection, so unless I pose as a picture researcher for some magazine, it's unlikely I'll get to see inside this amazing-looking building (there is a very small pic of the inside on the website, the lovely, simple lines of the staircase and the splendid circular window in nearly-full view) but there is a service where private customers can buy online prints for framing in their homes, many of which are local. I have not seen most of them before.

www.prints-online.com

They claim to have over 200,000 images online and be adding pictures at a rate of 500 a week. No wonder they need a staff of 20. They don't say when they moved to the fabulous building they inhabit now, or what it was originally built as - if you know or, indeed are, anyone who works there, I'd love to know more.

So another of my own personal mysteries cleared up. Shame about my Edwardian spinster fantasy but hey - the truth is just as fascinating.

www.maryevans.com

Far From The Sodding Crowd

More Uncommonly British Days Out
Halstead/Hazeley/Morris/Morris

Penguin, £ 14.99, £ 8.98 (Amazon)

Bollocks to Alton Towers - Uncommonly British Days Out is still probably my favourite travel guide of all time. Published a couple of years ago (in hardback, almost unknown for Penguin) it captures perfectly that rigid addiction to eccentricity that British people seem to be born with. That stoic determination to enjoy a day out at the seaside despite the hailstorm raging around the car parked on the prom, where they sit in silence stolidly chewing at sodden sandwiches, staring at leaden seas through rain lashing across the windscreen. The recipe of humour and indulgence that the four authors concocts hits, for me at least, the spot square-on, the fabulously grainy pictures so clearly taken by the authors rather than relying on professional 'stock' photos only adding to the experience.

Inspired, I made an effort to visit, among others, Mother Shipton's Cave, Dennis Severs House, Avebury Stone Circle, Bekonscot, and, ahem, Gnome Magic, but, short of counting the David Beckham Trail, which would be a cheat since the tomato-grower's polytunnel they call The David Beckham Academy wasn't built at the time, Greenwich was sadly neglected.

I am delighted to say that the sequel, Far From the Sodding Crowd, has redressed the balance. Our home town is represented in this cornucopia of eccentricity in the august form of The Fan Museum, though I have to admit that in the slightly scary face of entrants such as the Yelverton Paperweight Centre, Cheddar Crazy Golf and the Pork Pie Pilgrimage, it seems almost sane in comparison. I won't give you too much of their wonderfully gentle humour style, but in the few pages that they devote to the museum, the authors manage to give us an affectionate, yet accurate description I would have given my eye teeth to have written.

"Men and fans tend to make odd bedfellows. However stick an engine to a fan and it's different story. Suddenly it becomes a Man Fan."

Enjoy the entry about the Fan Museum, by all means, but don't just buy the book for that. It's a volume meant to be read and enjoyed cover-to-cover, and, with a bank holiday looming, to use. Visit a few of these truly British institutions and wonder that the big theme parks make any money at all. And if you are not already familiar with Bollocks to Alton Towers, get that too. It's a sound investment indeed.


PS - how weird is this? As I am writing this entry, an interview with the writers has just come on the Today Programme.The music from The Twilight Zone has started burning through my brain...

Phantom Phone Booth Update

I've been digging around (nothing like having 'proper' work to do to instigate a spot of procrastination, is there) and discovered that K2 models like the one at Whitworth St and outside East Greenwich Library are already rare enough to be considered listed, so we can heave a collective sigh of relief. I'd still like to know about others though, so if you pass any of the old type, think of your poor geeky phantom, spectral anorak zipped right up to ghostly chin and let me know about them, eh...

BTW if you want to buy one, unicornkiosks.com have a limited number at £ 8500 (excluding delivery...)

Phone Box Phantom

I am trying to remember the article I've read in the last few days about how BT, now that most people seem to have mobile phones, is quietly removing phone kiosks from our streets rather than mend them after being vandalised.

I guess I can sort of see the argument, but I should be extremely sad to see those fabulous old cast iron monoliths that are still dotted around Greenwich and which add such character go the way of the last round back in the 1980s where they were replaced by nasty clear plastic hoods with all the sound-proofing qualities of a loudhailer and souless modern pastiches of the classic Superman call box.

They're odd in the way that we hardly notice them while they're around, but if they were to go we would lose something really rather special. I've become a bit of a Phantom Phone Box Anorak in the last few days, ever since I found out that English Heritage does occasionally list phone boxes. I would argue that Greenwich, being a World Heritage Site, needs all the heritage it can get - and that means 20th Century classics as well as stuff from hundreds of years ago.

I've been learning a bit about phone boxes. No - stay with me - it's quite interesting being a callbox-spotter, honest.

The first type is the

• K1 - it's from 1921 and is distinctive in that it's concrete and has a red wooden door. I don't think that we have any because apparently it was universally hated and was replaced by the

• K2 - This was designed by Giles Gilbert Scott in 1924 as the result of a competition. It's neo-classical, in cast iron and with a segmented vaulted roof, with reeded strips to the corner. The crown in the top is perforated and set in the upper faces of the canopy. It has six rows of small panes of glass in each side. This is eligible for listing, as far as I can tell. The one at the end of Whitworth St (above) appears to be a K2, so it will be well worth a punt at trying to get it listed (if it isn't already...) The street would be a sadder place without it.
  

• K6 - is the most common kind and dates from King George V's jubilee in 1935. It's painted red overall and the crown is in relief, not perforated. If you're getting really technical, it has 8 strips of glass each side, with little margin lights. English Heritage needs a good reason to list these because quite a few of them have survived, but if BT are busily removing them this will not always be the case.
  

EH like particularly kiosks "closely associated with other listed buildings." So I reckon we could put up a case for, for example, the one on the South-west corner of Greenwich Park, near Rangers House. (I can't remember which one that is, offhand, I'm not THAT much of a geek - yet...) and maybe even the one (can't remember what that is either) outside East Greenwich Library (which is, I believe, Grade II listed.) They will also consider boxes that are "playing a key part in a notable town landscape." Maybe boxes within conservation areas will stand a chance.

I think it's worth having a go here. These lovely little examples of British street furniture are so much part of our world that we don't always notice them. I was going to give you a list of them, but realised that I just tend to walk straight past them. All I would know if they went was that I would feel I were missing something.

Maybe we can compile a list of boxes between us then do some kind of class-action appeal? Is there a lovely old K1, K2 K3 (unlikely, this is another concrete affair) or K6 at the bottom of your road? let me know. I guess if we could come up with some cunning new use for them - off the top of my head maybe some kind of top-up station for mobile phones, BT might be a bit keener to keep them without listing. Of course, you might totally disagree with me and think that the sooner these unofficial pissoirs are off the street the better. Now there's an idea - they could be plumbed-in and actually made into official pissoirs (sorry...)

In the meanwhile, if anyone wants to look at English Heritage's policy on Listing,

http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/server/show/nav.8833

is as good a place to start as any.

Remember. BT will not warn us that it's removing these little classics - you'll just come home one evening and your local lovely bit of vernacular heritage will be gone.

Underground Greenwich (3) Jack Cade's Cavern

(Theoretically) 77, Maidenstone Hill, SE10

I say "theoretically," because, frankly, there is bugger-all to see if you go there. Believe me - I've scouted around a few times, not quite believing that there really is nothing there. I've poked around garages, peered over back gardens and squinted down alleyways and I have come to the conclusion that this great Greenwich curio is well and truly sealed up and hidden.

Which is a big shame. There are tunnels and caves all over Blackheath and Greenwich Park, created differently and for different reasons, and none of them are to be marvelled at today. We've already discussed the tunnels in Greenwich Park, but Jack Cade's (or Blackheath) Cavern to the west deserves a special mention.

No one really knows how old any of these caves are. Some say they're Roman, others talk about the usual Druid tosh, but to be honest, in Jack Cade's case at least, it is far more likely to be 17th Century chalk miners that created a massive cave underneath Point Hill. According to the splendid website http://www.shadyoldlady.com/ a character known as William Steers was fined in 1677 for mining too greedily. He undermined the King's Highway, causing carriages to overturn. In fact the repercussions of this mining are still a hazard today - I'm sure everyone remembers the chaos in 2002 when the A2 suddenly disappeared into a black hole.

About a hundred years later, in 1780, a builder hit on the great idea of opening up the cave again, carving 40 steps into the chalk and fleecing visitors for 6d a gawp. It became THE place for fashionable tourists - until the inevitable accident. Nineteen year-old Lucy Talbot fainted in the fetid air below and died soon after she was carried up to the overworld.

Not to be put off by a small matter of Health and Safety, the owners sunk a well for ventilation and paid a lackey to pump bellows-fuls of fresh(ish) air into the cavern below. It didn't take too long for people to forget Lucy and start to party again. A chandelier was suspended from the ceiling, a bar installed and it was reopened for business as a naughty nightclub. There's a line drawing somewhere of a party in progress, but when I came to write this I had temporarily misplaced it. Rumours began of saucy nights with naked ladies and binge-drinking, something which the Victorian Prudes could not stand. They closed the bar down in 1854. Three years later they banned tumbling in the Royal Park too, (see "Weird Greenwich") the miserable sods.

Everything went quiet until the sound of the Luftwaffe rumbled overhead in 1939. The authorities sank a shaft down into the creepy murk of the dead nightclub, with the intention of siting a massive air raid shelter inside. They decided against it, but apparently found relics of the last party still down there. I don't know whether they left them there or whether they were removed, and if so, where they are now. If anyone else knows, do tell.

I have seen a photo on the internet of "the horned god" which is implied is in the Cave. I don't know - perhaps there is one down there, perhaps the photo really is of it (though how it was taken remains a mystery.) But that photo looks remarkably similar (to me) to a carving over a gate in the wall to the Dwarf Orchard in Greenwich Park. I can't help feeling that it is more likely to be that. If you want to see it, it's in Park Row.

Why Jack Cade's Cavern? "It has been suggested" (according to the BBC who are never wrong) that Cade (see "Mostly-Accurate History") "carried out pagan rituals there" before descending on the City of London to wreak death, destruction and mutilation. Somehow this seems unlikely if it was a 17th Century cave, but what do I know? To be honest, it sounds like an 18th century advertising slogan to me. Perhaps they had a nice Southend Pier-style entrance with a plaster model of Jack Cade and his Merry Men in druid outfits to welcome punters in in some kind of Revolting Peasants Theme Park...(yes, yes, I know it was Wat Tyler who led it, but Cade, a century or so later, was pretty revolting too.)

When I am a Dotcom Billionaire after you've all clicked like mad on the GoogleAds here (only squillion still to go) I shall invest the money wisely. I shall buy Number 77 Maidenstone Hill (sadly no longer "Cave Cottage" - just a Victorian rebuild) and re-open Jack Cade's Cavern. Of course due to inflation, prices would have to go up. I reckon a shilling would just about do it.

Strange Erections...

(Thought that would get your attention, fnaar, fnaar...)

DarrenBentBent asks:

Any clues what the strange looking thing being built at the north end of Brookmill Park is? It could be anything from a funky new Arts space...

The Phantom replies:

I have a horrid feeling that what you are talking about is something we discussed a little while ago and have to bring you the bad news that it is a development of - wait for it - luxury flats.

Is this it?

http://www.silkworkslondon.co.uk

If not, maybe someone has some better news for Darren. Maybe it actually IS a funky new arts space. Don't hold your breath, though, Darren...

Favourite Phantom Front Gardens (1)

Angerstein Lane, SE3

After yesterday's agonies, I thought I go totally fluffy on you today and share one of my favourite secret local corners. It may be cheesy, but sometime's CheddarVision's just not enough...

Angerstein Lane (no prizes for guessing the provenance of that name) is one of those places that no one who stumbles upon it can quite believe is in London. A straight passageway behind the posh bit of Vanbrugh Park that curves round the edge of Blackheath - linking St John's Park and Shooters Hill Road (ok, the A2, go ahead, smash my rustic fantasies) it is merely a dotted line on the map, but a delightful leafy retreat, complete with postbox set into ancient wall, lamp posts and overarching trees straight out of one of those postcards of 'Old Blackheath' you can buy in libraries. I would turn this picture into sepia except it's so bloomin' small already it would end up fuzzy...




Much of the back of it is garages and back entrances for the big houses on Vanbrugh Park, delightfully neglected in many cases, and there is a secret little path of modern houses (Langton Way) which is so embedded that you don't notice it until it's right upon you. But the rest of this path is totally empty - save for one tiny little roses-round-the-door cottage, Number 5, nestled in the only bit of clearing that the sun manages to break through. I can't work out what happened to Numbers 1,2,3 and 4 - there is no sign that there was ever any other habitation.

At first it looks like it might be part of the giant Victorian building towering among the foliage behind it, and maybe once it was an outhouse, but it is very much a little cottage now. A low, white-walled building, it is cute in itself, but what really makes it is one of the loveliest cottage gardens I have seen in a long while. 'Designed' in that wonderfully hap-hazard style of the classic country garden, it has been clothed in traditional flowers and plants by someone who clearly spends a lot of his time out there - and who cares passionately about the bit of land that he's reclaimed from the lane at the front of his house.

It's clear the guy's grown a lot of things from seed and cuttings, supplementing with bought specialities. The first time I walked past, he was out working and I spent some time chatting to him. A very friendly soul, he happily discussed planting ideas and pointed out his favourite bits (as gardeners usually do.)He is particularly proud of a peony he's just acquired at great expense.

Though I would suspect this is not a totally new garden, it's going to take a few years to fill out, but it's already one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts. He's created a tiny hawthorn hedge around it, though of course it will take years to get above knee height, and I suspect that he will always be delighted for fellow enthusiasts to enjoy it. And in the tradition of the true cottage gardeners, he's generous too, leaving surplus plants at the gate with a note for anyone to take them.

I thoroughly recommend this little haven as a way to feel good about the world again after yesterday's misery. Forget Chelsea Flower Show. This is real.

Cutty Sark Fire

January 2007:



May 21 2007:





Ok I have a little more news.

I felt physically sick as I quietly tagged on behind the media scrum that's down there at the moment, and saw what's left of the Cutty Sark. Even walking towards it, the lingering odour of wet smoke - a gut-churning smell that hangs around long after the fire is gone - and the delicate white ash scattered amongst the cobblestones by the market was enough to bring a tear to my eye.

You're right, M32, that 50% of the ship isn't here at the moment - it's in various places around the country, including Chatham, being restored - the wheel, masts, figurehead and top decking are all safe.

But of the other half there is a huge amount of damage - a largely wooden ship that's been 50 years in dry dock is obviously like tinder - and frankly there's virtually none of it left. At one point there was over 90% of her ablaze. All that remains is the iron frame, its ribs sitting sadly like a discarded turkey carcass at Christmas. It's too early to tell just how devastating the damage is, but even the iron frame has been warped in the heat.



The fire brigade were first alerted about 5.45am and CCTV footage shows that there were people around there at the time, including a silver car which was disappearing, but it's far too early to tell whether these were arsonists or just commuters making their innocent way to the foot tunnel. The police are treating it as suspicious, but they're being so cagey about giving out info that it's difficult to tell whether it's really possible that some sicko's set fire to it or whether it's just something they always do as a matter of course. They're desperate to speak to anyone who was there - so if, by any amazing coincidence, you were walking to work at that time of day, get in touch with Plumstead Police Station.

By far the most tragic figure there today was Chris Livitt from the Cutty Sark Trust - he looked truly sick. He likened the disaster to that of the fire at Windsor - and I think I agree. He's announced that they will now redouble their efforts to rebuild her but it's going to be an uphill journey now. She was insured, but you can't remake a 138-year old masterpiece without turning it into something else.

The only thing to be grateful for is that the ship was a shell - and there is still something to build upon.

Do visit and support the Cutty Sark Trust

http://www.cuttysark.org.uk/

Cutty Sark disaster

I am finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that it looks like someone actually wanted the Cutty Sark to die - the police are treating this morning's fire as "suspicious." Thank heavens they were stupid enough not to wait until the ship was complete (the masts and other stuff are away being restored at the moment.)

According to the news (I couldn't make it down there) they now have the fire under control, but they reckon that 80% of what was there at the time (the hull, basically) is "significantly damaged" - and it wasn't in great nick to start with.

Aparently the fire began (or was started) around 5.00am this morning - and at first the fire brigade assumed at first it was chemicals from the restoration, which hampered their putting it out (it could ahve been dangerous for fire fighters.)

The guy from the Cutty Sark Trust has been on saying that they're still determined to renovate it. I will be joining the trust now, and doing what I can to raise funds to help them try to undo what these arses have done (I've always meant to but now I'm actually going to do it...) I still can't believe what's happened.

More when I know it.

Stockwell Street Market

Stockwell St SE10



Since we were talking about the Stockwell St development plans on the King William's Passage post the other day, I thought that I'd take a closer peek at the market itself today.

Everyone has their favourite corner of this tatty, scruffy, funky delightful place which is larger than it at first looks (why else do you think the developers have thier beady eyes on it?) and which encompases warehouses, tatty old workshops and even an ex-petrol station filled to the brim with the kind of joyous nonsense that brings locals, tourists and Londoners from other areas to Greenwich as opposed to anywhere else. It's mainly junk and antiques, with a lot of clothes, but there are other stalls too.

If you go in the entrance nearest the railway line there is a second-hand record and CD stall, neatly lined up with those little cardboard dividers that denotes a true enthusiast. Opposite it a stall groaning with rocks and gemstones jostles for attention with jewellery stands and clothes stalls. Some are new and not terribly exciting, some are customised pieces - I understand there are a few people there who sell out of Cockpit Arts and with Goldsmiths only up the road it's to be expected that there will be custom-clothes here. My particular favourite is HFH Designs, which I have written about elsewhere - a pair of truly delightful nutty people who make intriguing jewellery and talk about it so enthusiastically that you feel part of the creation process.

If you're after an ex-military greatcoat, a velvet jacket, a morning suit or a tailcoat, there are plenty of stalls which will sell you one. There are shops for the girls too - ballgowns and teadresses, minidresses and promfrocks, though the quality isn't always as good as elsewhere in Greenwich. I'll spend more time on a couple of the best places another day as they warrant entries on their own.

Nearer the back, the junk stalls reign supreme. Again quality and price vary enormously - but it's well-displayed - just enough piles of stuff to warrant a rummage, just enough order to prevent weariness. Some of them are just stalls, others work out of the back of old warehouses.

Moving on round past what will be a familiar sight for anyone who remembers me from Livejournal days...

...there's an indoor bit and other shops, some of which are up steps outside or backstairs inside.

Once again I'm not going to talk today about the excellent vintage clothing shops here - but I just love to point out the care and attention that goes into display.


Right round the front there's often a fruit and veg stall and the odd other foodie bit,though the main food stalls are the other side of the railway line (another day...)

One thing though - I have a challenge for you. Can anyone find anything for sale in Greenwich that is creepier than this?

Prime Time Video

Christina asks:

I was wondering if anyone knew what happened to the Prime Time video shop next to Somerfields, I walked past yesterday to find that it has shut down! Does anyone know if they are going to re-open or whether another one will take it's place? Failing that, what's the closest one now for us in west Greenwich???

High Street video stores seem to be having a hard time of it recently and I've been noticing several closing down. I think it's probably down to the mail-order rental that's enjoying a vogue. I've been testing out a few myself recently. They all seem to be much of a muchness, though LoveFilm will charge you for an extra month if you cancel and then your film doesn't reach them by the cancellation date (they recommend that you send your vids back by registered post if you cancel, which seems a bit dodgy to me.)

I confess I don't know of another video hire shop in West Greenwich (though if there is one, someone here will know it) but I can heartily recommend the Blockbuster on Trafalgar Road, if not for the selection (which is at best average) for the excellent service you get there. All the staff are friendly, helpful and accommodating. I know it's a bit of a long way. Maybe someone else knows of somewhere closer.

James "Athenian" Stuart

1713-1788

V&A Museum - to 24th June 2007, admission free
The Old Royal Naval College Chapel

There is nothing quite like losing oneself in one of The Big London Museums on a dark, wet May afternoon. And the V&A is one of the best to lose oneself in because it's so full of twists and turns and dark Victorian corners filled with dark Victorian delights. Even better are the exhibitions - at the moment Surrealism and Kylie (complete with a costume by our own Johnny Rocket) are selling out, but I wasn't there for either of these big-hitters.

James "Athenian" Stuart may not trip off the tongue the way that contemporaries such as Robert Adam, Josiah Wedgewood and John Soane might, but his pioneering work in bringing neo-classicism to late 18th-century Britain is extraordinary and, along with all his great country piles and elegant townhouses, he found time to beautify Greenwich for us. It's taken over 200 years to create him a major exhibition, but at least now the V&A has done the right thing.

Born in London the son of a Scottish sailor, Stuart was not from wealthy stock. Things got worse when his father died and the family was plunged into poverty. He was apprenticed to a fan painter (I wonder if there are any of his efforts in the museum in Crooms Hill...?) but he longed for adventure. He decided to walk to Italy to learn about culture and architecture, antiquity and style. This was, after all, the beginning of the age of The Grand Tour. To start with he supported himself as an itinerant fan-painter (how much more romantic than working in the Rome branch of McDonald's during your gap-year, eh?)

James was doing okay in Italy, picking up the odd wealthy sponsor and portrait commission, but he craved more. He and his mate Nicholas Revett hitched down to Greece to really find out about the ancients and this was when James and Nick's Excellent Adventure began...

The pair of them had a whale of a time. Their sketchbooks still exist, showing them wearing Turkish robes, pretending to be Ottoman princes, clambering over precariously crumbling ruins making measurements and delighting in Local Colour. Stuart's sketches depict the minutiae of life - farmers toiling amongst vegetables - a friar blessing a diseased sheep - peasants escaping plague - and themselves - escaping the local law enforcement officers.

Only one of Stuart's own textbooks still exists - carefully annotated with corrections - he clearly didn't think much of its author, George Wheler - "It isn't a charger (in the statue's hand) but a shield from which he showereth down hail and tempests..." he writes. "He holdeth a conch shell," he points out exasperated at Wheler's erroneous description of another statue which claims "He holdeth nothing."

On his return to England, the pair published The Antiquities of Athens, Stuart revising the work, painting the illustrations and even designing the cover. A few copies of this massive tome still exist.

He didn't go straight from his adventures to grand design jobs. it took a while to get established, during which time he painted a backdrop for a school play - for Westminster School - and became the official portrait painter for the Society of Dilettanti (to which he and Nick had been elected some years before) but once he did, everyone (well all the nobs anyway) wanted him to design for them - everything from elegant furniture to splendidly frivolous garden temples to entire neo-classical palaces. Many of his palladian mansions have been demolished - and not that long ago - the 1960s were the worst culprits, it would seem (that's when the grand house at Belvedere was pulled down,) but there are a few left - notably at Shugborough in Shropshire, Earl Spencer's town gaff in Green Park and, on a different note entirely, our own chapel at Greenwich.

He had his critics - Horace Walpole described a closet at his Wimbledon Park stately home as "villainously painted" (though he later softened, describing a later offering as having a "noble, simple edifice" compared to a "harlequinnade" by Adam) but generally by this stage he could do nothing wrong.

He was given the prestigious job of Surveyor for the Royal Hospital for Seamen at Greenwich in 1758 and, after designing a few extremely ornate Admiralty Passes (sort of passports for ships - the fancier they were, the more easily British shipping passed through foreign waters) he got stuck in on the chapel. He made sure that there were lots of maritime images and impressive displays though it all got a bit damaged in a fire in 1779 after some rather raucous New Year celebrations in a tailor's shop above the church.

He also designed a three-tier pulpit, including a clerk's chair, reader's desk and 'preaching platform' in limewood with Corinthian columns and coadestone roundels(there goes that coadestone again...) A few years ago there was a great deal of excitement when the Reverend of All Saints Church in Belvedere looked a bit more closely at the pulpit that was bought in late Victorian times for a pound and thought it was by Stuart. Sadly it's unlikely, but you never know...

Stuart did other work in Greenwich, especially on the King's House and the Infirmary in between flitting around the country designing architectural baubles for the aristocracy. But by this point the bohemian lifestyle of his youth was catching up with him. He had married his 16 year old maidservant in his old age and they had five children in ten years which caused a bit of a scandal, and gout from alcoholism coupled with some chaotic business practices made him unreliable. He spent much of his later life drinking and playing skittles, dying in 1788.

The exhibition at the V&A, tucked away in an upstairs back room, is as elegant as Stuart's designs. It includes his early sketches, copies of his book, furniture and ornaments, as well as designs for and photographs of his best architectural designs. It's well worth a look. But if you don't make it to South Ken, a wander round the chapel in Greenwich, now beautifully restored, will lend some idea of the work of this underrated genius.

King William Passage

King William Walk, SE10

King William Passage is cunningly constructed to keep locals away and keep tourists lingering around the entrance only. Why this should have have happened escapes me, but then, perhaps cunning has nothing to do with it...

For starters, it doesn't look very big at all. A tiny entrance along King William Walk with a stunningly awful selection of tourist tat - everything from plastic policeman's helmets and tube map ashtrays to gilt models of the Houses of Parliament and T shirts that say "My son went to London blah-de-blah-de-blah" (btw has anyone ever seen anyone actually wearing one of these T shirts - from any country or city?) On the other side of the entrance is an ice cream stall, and because it's usually thronged with confused-looking visitors licking 99s, it doesn't always occur to us to push through, like Lucy pushing her way through the fur coats to the back of the wardrobe to find the magic world beyond.

Well, the rest of King William Walk is hardly Narnia. But some of the shops that lie behind the tourist stalls at the front are a whole lot more interesting that first glances might imply, and if nothing else, it leads out at the back to another part of the market (at least for now.)

The first stall that hits sells Middle Eastern goods - Moroccan lamps, curly rusted-iron picture and mirror frames, some with little shutters, tiled splashbacks and mosaic-topped garden tables. There are giant metal, many-faceted lanterns with coloured glass, and tiny, vellum-covered lamps in bright colours. I can never quite tell who runs what part of the stalls here, so I'm not sure if it's the same people who also sell bonsai trees, but if they do then it's a fabulous and unexpected meeting of cultural minds.

Moving on, there are some soft coloured leather items - pink slippers, soft tooled purses and bright handbags. I suspect that this is part of the same Middle-Eastern shop - but who can tell?

Beyond these stalls things tend to be slightly more fluid. A rather useful frame and mount-cutting stall is no longer there any more, but there is a shop that sells Egyptian prints and some rather fun belly dancing kit - jingly belts, necklaces made of 'coins' and sequined wonderbras. There are also some stalls selling cheap fashion items and one that purveys what my gran used to call "fancy goods." Stalls come and go on a much more regular basis, so it's worth keeping an eye on what's going on; visiting from time to time to see who's coming and going.

Right at the back (or the front, if you've come in from the other end...) there used to be an antiques area, but I noticed the other day that this seems to be mainly modern furniture now with a few repros. It may change again, this area never seems to stay the same for long.

King William Passage spills out onto what must be the most endangered part of the market - the little bit around the back which must have once been warehouses or something to do with the railway which runs by it - there still are a few there warehouses now, currently occupied by various mini-shops, until the developers get their wicked way. For the moment it's a junk/antiques/sundries/ fancy goods (there goes my gran again...) market - but that's for another day...

Royal Teas

Royal Hill, SE10

Every so often I get myself a bit confused. There comes a place that is so "obvious" for review that I actually assume that I've already written about it. It comes as a bit of a shock when someone points out that I haven't. I have no idea how Royal Teas slipped through the net, but there you go. I thought I'd already 'covered' it. There are others which will come up and bite me on the backside, I am sure...

It's a Greenwich institution, of course. Royal Teas seems to have been around for ever - must be twenty years at least. It's ostensibly a vegetarian cafe, though there is the odd dish which includes salmon - it's good to see that they're not too evangelical about it. It's a tiny place, which can get a bit full, especially when there are a lot of pushchairs parked in there, and I have found that timing is everything - trying to second-guess busy periods is an skill which can be acquired with practice.

The front room of what was clearly once a cottage has mix & match tables and chairs, shared with a splendid piece of metal furniture with large drawers for various types of coffee bean and tea, which you can either drink on the premises or take home a bag of to enjoy later. I have no idea what the piece of apparatus in the window is - some kind of coffee-making equipment, I presume, but it's rather beautiful in itself and is purely decorative these days.

The back room has more tables and the counter, leading out to the back where they make all those great snacks and meals, and, of course, their famed cakes. The decor has a slightly 'updated hippy' feel - orange and purple, which is both cosy and welcoming.

I'll warn you now. it will be difficult to finish anything you get served here. The portions are satisfyingly huge. I don't know if they do doggy bags; one day I think it will be worth an ask as it is the sort of thing they might encourage. Among their breakfasts (served all day) is a monster American version which is frighteningly large - but so tasty you find yourself eating far more than you intended. The baguettes are shoved full of so much filling that it's most inelegant to try to eat (though I have a minor gripe with one I had the other day in that I had vast amounts of cheese and salad, but the effect was rather dry - I could have had less cheese and replaced it with a little butter to bind it all together.) I've never had the cream tea, but I've watched other people tucking in and I will get round to it one day, judging from the looks on their faces it will be well worth the wait.

The cakes are fabulous. I don't really need to go into too much detail as I'm sure I'm preaching to the converted. My favourite is the lemon, but more research is needed to be absolutely sure.

To anyone who doesn't know, the slightly odd "fairy tale" in the window refers to a long-running dispute with Greenwich Council. After many years of R.T's existence, the council suddenly discovered the place and, at first, heaped praise and help on its owners, offering them grants and all kind of plaudits. It was only later that the council changed its tune. The place didn't have a proper licence, it argued, and the men in grey tried to shut it down. Royal Teas itself is fighting back, aided by devoted local residents (though the most local - the person upstairs, I'm told, moans about the disruption. How does this happen, I wonder? Someone moves in above a cafe, then complains that they live above a cafe? Maybe I've missed something here...)

The dispute with the council rumbles on. In the meanwhile, Royal Teas continues as normal, its friendly, cheery staff coping as best they can with the question mark above their heads. Visit them while you can (though, as a dedicated 'good loo' aficionado I must warn you - don't make a pilgrimage for the restroom facilities - there is a certain charm about it and it's perfectly clean but it's hardly a 'destination loo') and let them know that this is the kind of thing we need to encourage more, not less of, in Greenwich.

http://www.royalteascafe.co.uk/

Prior Street - and Allotments

Prior St, SE10

Continuing my look at Greenwich Streets I've turned out of Circus St into Prior St - a short, sweet little road which climbs gently up to meet Royal Hill before theoretically turning into Point Hill.

The houses in this pretty little street are mainly terraced and flat-fronted, with little canopies over the doors, which makes me think, in my untutored way, that they are Georgian rather than Victorian. Some single, some double-fronted, most also have basements. Some have loft conversions, but these look like historic rather than modern affairs. Every so often there are the occasional interesting-looking garage-like doors to what looks like back-entrances built into the terraces.

Once again I don't know anyone in this road - so if you live here or know someone who does, I'd welcome additions and comments about it. Is it a good road to live in? Are the natives friendly?

At the top are some of what must be the poshest allotments in Greenwich. When I was looking for an allotment myself, I came across the Prior St gardens and salivated. They are run by a separate group to the council, but (now) come under its protection. It wasn't always that way.

They're an odd shape because, apparently, they are the site of the old railway line that joined Nunhead to Greenwich which only lasted between 1871 and 1917. I assume it was derelict for a while before becoming briefly a lorry park and a garden centre.

Over the years the allotments have had threats to their existence - not least from when the council wanted to close the allotments to build 23 houses. A splendid campaign was fought and mostly won (the council just took enough land to build two houses in the end.) Huzzah for the people -it proves it can be done occasionally. The other plots are now protected under the Allotment Act, though I doubt I will ever land one of them.

Judging from the number of them (18) and the size of some of the gardens round here (tiny) I should have put my name down at birth for one here and I'd have probably still been waiting even then. The person at the top of the 100-strong waiting list went on in 1998, so that's only nine years so far. So some time to go yet...

Still when allotments are as beautifully kept and enjoyed as these clearly are, it's hard to be anything other than delighted by this place. It even has its own website - http://www.priorstgardens.org.uk/ with some pretty pictures and info about them.

Micro Eco Park on the Peninsula

No - not the "official" one - which I'll come to another day. This tiny little eco park is about a tenth of the size of the 'proper' one and I confess I've walked past it on several occasions without realising what it was or even, if I'm honest, that it was there at all.

It's round the back of the Teletubby Sainsburys - presumably some kind of Section 106 set-aside, and it takes approximately 1 minute to walk round, but it's nevertheless a delight to stumble upon, and once the sundry consortia who have carved up the Peninsula have covered what is green and lovely now with coloured concrete boxes, it will be an even more welcome haven for animals, insects, birds and even the odd walker.

It's basically a couple of wetland-pond-ish-marshy dips, filled with reeds, rushes and, at the moment, some beautiful yellow irises. There are saplings of what look like some sort of willow (?) dotted around and a little fenced area with some young apple trees - I have no idea of the variety, but I'm hoping they're either native or at least heritage breeds.

A little (pretty-accessible) path winds its way around the site - it takes a couple of minutes to march around it, slightly longer to wander. There are no signs, plaques or even gates - but it's such a welcome corner, tucked behind a shopping centre and surrounded by a hedge of mixed British plants - even the back of Sainsburys itself doesn't 'loom' over the area (and presumably provides a nice place for employees to enjoy a quiet fag) that it's worth seeking out as a five minute excursion of peace from the madness that is that sodding Peninsula car park.

Rose & Crown update

I'm told that the Rose & Crown will be re-opening on or around the 17th May. I have no idea whether it is the old owners who have just refurbished, new owners sympathetic to the old clientele - or new owners with aspirations to change its character. All I know is that I'm pretty sure it's not Greenwich Inc. The best way to ensure it keeps its (much-appreciated) style, I guess, is to frequent it.

Cheers, Mr Anon, for the tip-off...

Group meals

Commenting on the Inside thread, Humberfisher mentioned that while it's absolutely great for a romantic dinner for two, Inside isn't the best place for parties of more than 10. This got me thinking. I wonder where IS the best place for a group meal in Greenwich?

I guess it sort of depends on the group of course - a kiddie birthday party isn't going to be the same as an office Christmas do or a sedate 50th Birthday meal.

So - I'd like suggestions, please, for the best places (and the worst) for large parties (meals, not actual parties.) Suggestions for all the above types of groups and others will be interesting - we all have celebrations from time to time.

Part of me can't help thinking that despite any other prejudices I might have, some of the Greenwich Inc. places are best set up for larger groups - Bar du Musee, The Trafalgar Tavern and, gulp, The Spread Eagle (has anyone eaten in the posh conference room bit that used to be the antique shop yet?) may be, despite anything else, the best places to eat. Cafe Rouge, too, might do it - size and ability to cope with numbers has to reign over intimacy and personal service when it comes to occasions.

What's your opinion?

258 Creek Road Once More

Earlier in the week I talked about David Herbert's battle against the developers for his home and business. He's sent me a link which has some of his correspondence with the Council and Nick Raynsford, which will help to enlighten us a little...

http://greenwichbookplace.typepad.com/greenwich_book_place/

The Paragon

When he designed Gloucester Circus, architect Michael Searles was really only warming up. Admittedly, units weren't exactly selling like Mrs Miggins's pies but that didn't really bother Searles - he'd already set his sights on another piece of land, the site of a massive house. It was part of the Wricklemarsh Estate - on the edge of Blackheath - and Searles was busy chatting up the guy who was buying it, one John Cator, whom I'll talk about another day. Another potential buyer who came to have a look round, apparently, was Clive of India but in the end, Cator nabbed it.

The Paragon (Searles was not one for subtlety when it came to titles) was to be a row of fourteen houses (seven pairs,) but instead of boring old terraces, he fancied joining them up with little Tuscan-colonnaded conceits (Coadestone, actually - I promise I will get onto Coadestone one day...) which housed the entrances, thus leaving the main buildings to enjoy gigantic arched windows for the best view - both looking in and out. To make it all look nice and neat, he put a lodge-house at either end.

Because he also took the financial risk, Searles had to make a bit more effort at selling The Paragon, so he made sure they were 'substantially-built.' He managed to flog the lot off by 1805 but it had taken him 13 years to finish them due to a few, ahem, financial embarrassments. Once they were nearly finished, though, people snapped up accommodation which not only could include large, modern interiors including Gentlemen's rooms, eight bedrooms, servants quarters and water closets, but were also only a cough and a spit from what is now the A2 but at the time would have afforded them a speedy trip to enjoy the splendours of London.

Searles must be a bit of a hero of the current developers at the Millennium Village. They do much the same today as he did two hundred years ago - sell an empty shell, which the purchasers model to their own wishes. Ok - he did it with bricks & mortar, they do with sliding metal walls, but the idea's much the same.

Although most of The Paragon's residents were city businessmen, it attracted all sorts of intriguing residents - from two Lord Mayors of London to another (far more interesting) couple. They were both women, but one dressed as a man. It's said that they came from Gloucester Circus and the 'lady' half of the pair informed everyone she was going to marry a Lord. She gadded about all over town buying lovely things for her trousseau - everything from trinkets and baubles to clothes and furniture and was the darling of all the merchants - for about ten minutes. After she ran up £ 20,000-worth of debts, the pair scarpered, never to be seen again.

There's one thing about the Victorians - they just couldn't resist dickering. Sundry dodgy 'embellishments' were added over the next hundred years or so, few of which, apparently, added much charm (of course the 1970s got their own back, adding 'improvements' of their own to Victorian buildings. What goes around comes around...) The Paragon started the 20th Century in a rather sad state as boarding houses.

A lot of the gaudy Victorian additions were quietly lost by Charles Bernard Brown when the Luftwaffe gave him the opportunity to restore The Paragon to its original beauty by bombing the poor place to buggery. Brown's is not a name people conjure readily today - but the guy deserves a medal for standing up for what could have just ended up as another demolition site back in the 1950s.

The houses today are divided up into flats and consistently go for staggering sums when they come up for sale. I've never seen the back of them, but I'll wager they no longer come with nine acres of land each, vegetable gardens, fishponds, dairies, coach houses and stabling. As long as I don't see them, though, I can at least dream that someone in Blackheath still keeps cows in their back garden. The private road outside, with its little white-painted fences and cute lamp posts plus the leafy-green that surrounds it, is, I believe, paid for in what cannot be insignificant service charges (or maybe they share the chores - "ok, whose turn is it to mow the lawn this week, then...?")

The Paragon is one of the truly sumptuous parts of Blackheath - and fitting tribute to a local architect whose work is dotted around the area, and still much-loved.

Ads

As you know, I have always said I wouldn't ever take direct ads for anything that I might ever review. I stand by that. I never will. There are plenty of magazines and newspapers that already do that and to my mind there's no point in creating another advertorial vehicle.

I was asked recently, however, by a tiny independent company (which sounds very interesting indeed - a great new concept - but isn't, frankly, something I would ever review) whether I took "small ads."

Well, I guess it looks a bit like it because Google Adwords are so clever with their computer-generated adverts, tailoring them to fit something I'm writing about without either me or the original advertiser knowing, but it really is merely the Wonders of Modern Science.

There is one way that this new company could advertise on the site which I believe would not compromise me at all - and might be of benefit to local people since it is so very niche. But I won't do it without your say so.

That is "targeted" Google Adwords. It's where a company can ask specifically to advertise on a certain site; ie. to join the little list of ads in brown down the left-hand column of the page in my case.

I tend to take the view that there would always be enough random-ness within the system that it would not impinge on anything I said, and that there would always be other Adwords adverts to fill in any gaps I created by being 'rude' about a company and losing their custom if I enabled this option. I don't really see any big harm in doing so. But I want to ask your opinion, guys. Would YOU feel compromised by my enabling people to say they specifically wanted to advertise in the GoogleAds section of my blog?

Let's face it, GoogleAds are never going to mean megabucks, but the odd pennies here and there all add up. I might even be able to afford a cup of tea and a bun in George of Greenwich by Christmas (my little dream... ;-) )

Inside

19, Greenwich South St, SE10

It's taken me a long while to get around to re-reviewing this place after a somewhat duff experience a couple of years back. They must have been having an off-day as everyone else (especially here) has been saying such good things about it, but it's still taken a while to come back to the fold...

Inside is very much a neighbourhood restaurant which enjoys a loyal, busy clientele and doesn't have to pander to the tourist trade like so many Greenwich eateries forced to provide speed and 'value' (read 'cheap') at the cost of quality.

Even early in the week the place gets pleasingly full with a mixed bunch of young and old, mainly well-heeled looking locals, most of whom already seem to know their way around the menu, despite the fact that it is clearly one that changes with the seasons.

The small, modern interior is clean and fresh, with dark and light contrasts in wall colour (pale cream and chocolate brown) lending an intimate, yet not overbearing atmosphere. I love the fact that they've retained the original leaded lights and indented shop windows(including concertina gates when the place is closed,) lending it some kind of link with the past, long pendant lamps and funkily modern seating keeping it from being old fashioned. The walls are adorned with art-for-sale (has anyone ever been into a restaurant anywhere where there was art-for-sale that they actually bought, by the way?) but apart from a wine rack in the window (not, perhaps, the very best place to keep wine, but maybe storage is an issue) and a little sideboard containing local free mags, the rest is unadorned.

The menu is fresh and interesting - modern European, but with a few twists - such as the 5-spice chicken, coconut and coriander spring rolls - crisp, ungreasy and tasty. Judging from the amount of seasonal ingredients dotted around the menu (asparagus and rhubarb to name but two) it changes regularly - clearly further research is needed.

My smoked haddock fishcakes were succulent, smoky and steaming hot, though I confess that I took the tartar sauce for mayonnaise.

Mains were excellent - a fine steak, cooked exactly as requested, and a spinach and goats cheese filo parcel which was about double the size that anyone could possibly hope to consume. After a while I was full, both physically and mentally - definitely less would have been more in this case - but I guess I shouldn't moan at being overfed...

Inside sticks to its local roots by serving Meantime Brewery beer, which is a welcome addition. The wine list is well-balanced and has examples to fit most night-out budgets.

When I visited the loo, I noticed, out of the open window, a tragic missed opportunity. A tiny, sheltered, courtyard garden, currently full of old windows, broken planks and other rubbish. It would be a wonderful place to site a few raised beds and grow herbs for the kitchen (as well as making a lovely place for the staff to enjoy a teabreak...)

One other thing. Guy Awford has slightly shot himself in the foot with the quotes he uses in the local free mags, in my humble opinion. He's won all kinds of awards - and deservedly so - but "Guy Awford's "interesting" cooking" reads to me as a euphemism - surely he could have found a better quote from the mountain of plaudits he must have already received?

Well here's one for you Guy...

A charming, visitable and revisitable local restaurant serving memorably tasty food.

Ok - fair enough. It ain't Shakespeare. Stick to the Hardens review, eh, Guy... ;-)

www.insiderestaurant.co.uk

Secret Garden Wildlife Centre

I had another interesting Ask The Phantom today. So interesting, in fact, that I got straight onto the case...

Kori asks:

A few years ago I was talking to a park warden (or some such) in Greenwich Park; she told me about a place within the park that can be hired out for children's birthday parties, etc. I think she called it the Deer Shelter or something similar. Have you heard of such a thing, and do you know what kinds of things it's used for?

Kori - I have good news for you. You are talking about The Secret Garden Wildlife Centre which is a long building in the flower garden, which runs alongside of the deer enclosure. It has a viewing area - though deer being what deer are, it's pot luck as to whether you'll actually see any deer on your chosen party day.

It has chairs and tables (both adult and kiddie-sized,) toilets and a small kitchen. You're expected to do your own catering - or, presumably bring in your own caterer if you'd rather the jelly and ice cream burden was borne by someone else.

There is a wonderfully British way of arranging it, which gladdens my heart. The place costs £ 47 to hire (this will be revised soon though so get in quick) and what you do is collect the keys the day before, then, when you're finished , you lock the door then post them back through the letterbox. There is no deposit - which delights me - that previous users have left the place in such a clean state that there has been no necessity to insist on one.

It is not manned - but park rangers and police will be aware of the event so that if you have problems you can get help.

Bookings can be made right up until the day before, but it's always best to reserve in advance as they only ever have one event per day.

You can view the site first. I haven't been because I wanted to get this info out as quickly as possible, but if you go, please will you leave me your impressions - or even mail me a pic I can use here?

The magic number is:

020 8858 2608

Happy partying, kids!

258 Creek Road revisited

Hope you remember a question I had a few weeks ago about the half-scaffolded house at 258 Creek Road? Well - I've been contacted by David Herbert - who lives in the house in question.

I still can't find it on the internet, but he does have a mail-order book company with over 100,000 books stored in the ten rooms of the house. David Herbert did up his place some years ago (he's been there for 35 years) but then suffered from ill health which prevented him from doing any more. Apparently the council has admitted responsibility for some tree roots creating subsidence (hence the scaffolding) but have presumably done nothing further because they were expecting him to move out for the Bardsley Lane development (the same that threatened the Lord Hood.) He's digging his heels in.

He has plans for the future - he tells me he is preparing to re-launch his bookshop and open an art gallery.

David writes today:

Have you noticed (perhaps on the way back from the opera) notices (I imagine they're supposed to be noticed) to say that a further revised plan for the redevelopment is proposed for consideration which still includes the demolition of my home and business.

Every extra objection received will be a help to me, as well as to preserving the tranquil beauty which surrounds me at present (so near the World Heritage site) May I ask you to tell the Council you object their horrific plans to increase the already excessive development of this neighbourhood.

I enclose some details in case you don't have them:-
05/1222/F/564
Ref: 05/1228/C
Frances Dolan
Strategic Planning
Peggy Middleton House
50 Woolwich New Road
Woolwich
London
SE18 6HQ
www.greenwich.gov.uk


I hope I can count on your help.. This would be really phantastic!
Best wishes
David

David - if you wish to add anything here about the development, we'd all like to hear about it and how it will affect you - the more information we have about what is wrong with the development proposals, the easier it is to help - just 'objecting' will not be taken as seriously as objections with specific reasons. Sadly Greenwich Council's address is a bit general to give much further information - I've typed your address into the search, but not found anything more recent than 2005.

In the meanwhile, what's the address of your mail-order shop? We'd all like to have a peek at what you have for sale...

Ideas Pool

Sam asks:

I wonder if you might ever have a section on your site for business opportunities/ideas? I have always had a dream of opening a cafe in Greenwich, Blackheath or Charlton that sells breakfast only, from all around the world. One slight problem is I don't have much cash to inject! I thought if you did have a section like that maybe people could get together for a project or at least swap ideas and good practice?

I love the idea of a cafe that serves breakfast around the world. Maybe you should make it a 24-hour eaterie and serve whatever food would be being served for breakfast at a particular time of day - 7.00am Croissants and coffee. 8.00am - Full English. 11.00am - New York Bagels. 3.00pm Mexican burritos. And so on, all around the world...

I like the idea of pooling ideas, but I'm not sure how it could work - this is a blog, with a classic blog format. Perhaps when I've been going longer (it's only been four months since I crossed from Livejournal to Blogger and I still don't really quite feel settled) I could look into expanding to a proper 'website' - but I suspect that's some time away.

For the moment though, if anyone fancies going in with Sam on an World breakfast bar, drop me a line at the usual address and I'll pass it on...

Peninsula Pong

M32 asks:

I have a quick question for you. Ever since moving to Greenwich many years
ago I experience an occasional rather unpleasant smell wafting across the
park. Presumably this comes from a factory or plant down on the river in East
Greenwich? Do you have any idea what is causing it, if it's harmful and if
it is ever going to go away!? I used to think it might be a brewery or
something but it is more unpleasant than that. Its not terrible, just
unpleasant. And if the wind is really strong it even occasionally infects the
rarefied air of West Greenwich :-) I just wonder how many of the x thousand
new occupants of the peninsular (one day) will be happy to live with the smell
next door.


I think we have all experienced that smell from time to time. The strange thing is that it's always different - sometimes quite yeasty, other times chemical, yet others downright putrid.

The factory that used to be responsible for the truly terrible smells of yesteryear, Molassine, which made animal feed and which was responsible for the Great Molasses Flood (see Mostly-Accurate History) is long dead and gone, though I notice that Mary Mills has written a lot about it on the web.

It must be a factory - though which one is a mystery. I've always assumed that it's the one with those strange pipes and towers at Enderby Wharf - but I could be totally wrong. That one, surely, is Alcatel, which only does telecommunications. Maybe I've got that wrong though.

My own theory is that the factory no longer exists to manufacture anything, save new and ever-worsening smells. They have an army of scientists working around the clock to create new pongs in the hope that one day AEG will pay the company large amounts to go away...

To be honest most of the time it's quite ok. It's only on a particularly bad day when the wind's in a certain direction that it becomes a problem.

Does anyone know the real culprit?

Circus Street, SE10

In another of my occasional focuses on Greenwich streets I thought I'd take a peek at an estate-agent-favourite West Greenwich byway today.

Circus Street links Royal Hill and Greenwich South Street in a gentle sweeping curve which doesn't quite meet Gloucester Circus at the Royal Hill end. It's clearly Georgian /early Victorian and has kept that old feel despite one or two more modern places along it. A few houses were obviously built together as pairs or rows; others have been built as little terraces but don't all look the same. It's a delightful mixture of very large, stucco-front houses with splendid front doors, wrought iron railings and imposing windows, and tiny little flat-front terraces opening directly onto the street with interesting features and jolly window boxes. There is what looks like a converted chapel about half-way down it. Judging from the amount of converted chapels in the area, Greenwich must have been some religious place. It would seem to be less so now.

Near the Royal Hill end, there is an interesting place with a discreet plaque which says "Zero" - but my (albeit imperfect) searches have bowled up nothing about it. Can anyone enlighten me?

At number 42 lives Circus Street Ltd. I had a spot of trouble wading through the jargon to find out what they actually do - it seems to be a sort of digital media consultancy - though whether this is PR, website design, some sort of data analysis or a mixture of all of them beats me. I guess that's what comes of not actually working in this field. They seem to have some big clients, judging from the list. The blog's fun - I enjoyed "Can brands control bloggers":

http://www.circusstreet.com/index.php?q=node/blog#42

Hmm - wonder what would happen if I typed in "The Greenwich Phantom Sucks," as recommended. Phew. Nothing. Yet...

On the corner of Brand St is The Pub With No Name. Sadly, it's lost its sign, and there's no name on the board above it, but luckily its real name is carved into the very stone of the building - thank heavens for the supreme Victorian confidence that presumed that this pub would always be called The Morden Arms, presumably named for Sir John Morden who founded Morden College in Blackheath in 1695. It's nice enough and has the occasional jazz night (it gets involved with the Riverfront Jazz Festival,) but it's not what I'd call a destination pub - more a local boozer for local drinkers (no food.)

Does anyone here live in Circus Street or know anyone who does? I'd love to know more about it.

Cow & Coffee Bean Cafe

Main gate, Greenwich Royal Park

Every park worth its salt needs to have at least one cafe but even if it's a Royal Park, it will never quite escape that corporate, formal, mass-market feel. That given, the management of the Cow & Coffee Bean have really made an effort and as the kind of cafe that is primarily meant to appeal to a wide range of visitors, often with small children, it actually works rather well.

Tucked right inside the Park gates, sheltered by the exterior wall, I assume the building itself was the old gatekeeper's cottage - and a pretty little place it is too. The new-look cafe has kept the cottage neat and tidy - much better than previous incarnations. It has neat railings, which tie-in well with other park furniture and its own fittings are both functional and neutral to the eye.

The design has remembered its primary purpose as a family eaterie, with solid, round tables which will stand being stood on (I know, I know - that's not their primary function but lets face it, who hasn't had their tea spilled when somebody small (or not so small) has stood on the built-in seat of a flimsy picnic table?

Just me, then...)

There are bamboo 'fans' around the walls, with small plants clearly intended to clothe the walls at some point. Coupled with the borrowed view of the park on one side and the strange, square-bayed windows of the backs of those houses on Burney Street whose entrances look like sentry boxes, it has a sophisticated, tasteful feel, despite its being a local civic amenity.

The tables aren't crammed together, so that wheelchairs and prams can get in between them, and the ground is a mixture of gravel and cut paving which actually looks rather good, and won't create ruts in the rain.

Talking of rain, if it's a tad inclement, there is a small interior (only small, mind) which has jolly dark blue gingham tablecloths and more solid country-style furniture.

Inside, the usual rock-cakes, croissants, Danish pastries etc. are laid out on trays in a neat, clean manner and a pleasant young man (a student if ever I saw one) serves tea. Don't expect anything like a teapot - a teabag in a cup is what I got, and though there was supposed to be a selection of Fairtrade teas, I wasn't given a choice. It didn't bother me particularly. The cup cost me £ 1.25, a rock cake, £ 1.75. Neither was either good or bad - each did its job, as fuel for the rest of the park visit.

In my usual chaotic fashion, I can't remember whether the fare offered is organic. I certainly think some of it is but can't vouch for it all. Maybe a regular visitor can enlighten me.

I like this place. It's never going to win any prizes for originality, but within its brief it's pleasant, efficient and friendly, especially family-friendly. I would definitely visit again.

I have one quibble. No bins in the outside eating area. Probably a security thing, I guess, but a slight inconvenience.

The Fan Museum (2)

...and through the arched window...

I've already covered the Fan Musuem, but since Jemma was specifically asking about it as a venue for functions, I thought I'd nip over and check out the facilities. Of course this did involve having to see the latest exhibition at the same time. It's a tough job...

Every inch of this place is exquisite - not a corner nor, presumably, a backroom store cupboard out of place. In fact the only place that even vaguely begins to touch it for sheer loveliness was the old Polka Children's Theatre in Wimbledon when Richard Gill ran it - a place so magical that it was like a combination of cuckoo-clock, treasure chest and toy box all in one. The Fan Museum I'd say was ormolu clock, jewel-chest and chocolate box - but in essentials much the same...

First the exhibition. I am always astounded that there are so many themes for one tiny, single-issue museum to follow. They manage two or three top-quality exhibitions a year - each time coming up with a fresh topic, and managing to find enough exhibits to fill it. I mean - I like fans as much as the next phantom, but this must be some kind of delightful obsession for the curators here - and long may it continue to be so.

This one is Fanning the Senses - a study of fans and their relationship with perfume. Fans and fragrance were an essential part of a lady's toilette - especially in the days before people actually washed - the perfume to mask one's own whiffy person; the fan to waft away everyone else's. The fans, as always, are fabulous - my particular favourites include Love Knot from 1870, a charming Victorian vision of 18thC court life, Love's Retreat, from the 1890s which focused on roses and lovebirds and the Allegory of the Senses from 1700, which does what it says on the tin. The perfume bottle also displayed were lovely,too, but part of me rather wished that there was a way we could smell the fragrances too. A Scratch & Sniff card, perhaps?

I was intrigued by the perfume advertising fans from the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, especially the Olympic Fan from the games in the 1920s. Now there's an idea for a souvenir for 2012...

But I sense I'm losing a few male readers here. Onto the functions (though I suspect I won't win back too many boys with that one either.)

Jemma, I recon that the Fan Museum would be utterly lovely as a venue, checking it out with that specifically in mind. The garden's in two specific parts - a Japanese style tea garden at the back and a French Parterre design in the foreground. It's large and lovely enough to take a fair few guests, and secluded enough for you to feel you weren't in the centre of town. The orangery tearooms are just beautiful - charmingly hand-painted and with those lovely mirrored doors at the far end.

I have two reservations. I know nothing about their standards of catering - or whether you could get your own caterers in (probably at an extra charge) - in which case, Hand-Made Foods and Theatre of Wine are your guys.

My other slight concern is what happens if it rains. The orangery is gorgeous, but it's not enormous and if all 80 of your reception guests bowl up into the conservatory it might be a squeeze. They can do sit-down in the orangery for 30 and they DO have a marquee that will seat 50 - but that is the end of your beautiful garden reception. I detest marquees (though that's probably a personal thing, I know not everyone does.) In the evenings you get the run of the museum; presumably during the day you have to share it with visitors.

This is one of the few places I have come across where the corporate charges are less than the private - Corporate starting at £ 200, private hire at £ 250 (both plus VAT.)

Personally I think this would be a wonderful option for a small reception. Larger venues get less personal the grander they get and this place is almost edible in its boudoir-beauty.

If you go there, Jemma,will you give us a review?

www.fan-museum.org

Westcome Park Police Station Car Park

No - really...

Greenwich Mutiny asks:

Is there any truth in the council increasing the rent by 50% on the scrap of land that acts as a staff carpark for the Royal Hill constabulary? Rumour has it that the hike in price is an attempt to force the police out and flog the land to property developers to build more housing/luxury flats???

You know - I have no idea. I had always assumed that the land was owned by the police themselves, who have actually said they're moving anyway (you'll find it somewhere in the archives here - try under 'news.' Must sort those archives out...)

This sounds a bit like a Chinese whisper to me. I haven't heard any rumours about this - has anyone else? If so, where?

I have no doubt that luxury flats will be built on that piece of land (though just how 'luxury' flats with a direct view over the 102(M) can be remains to be seen - maybe they'll be the Section 106 affordables for the flats in the old police station.) But I'm not convinced about this rumour. If the council do own the land, perhaps they've put up the prices for the usual reason - profit. Somehow I doubt they'd have got themselves together enough to conspire such a small thing for such a small profit. Nah. I don't believe that one...

Prove me wrong, someone.

Trafalgar Quarters and Park Row (S)

Park Row, SE10

I bet I'm not the only person who's walked past those lovely old railings opposite The Old Royal Naval College in Park Row on the way to Trafalgar Tavern and wondered about the rather elegant building set in neatly-clipped grounds beyond them.

A low-set, brick-built building with a colonnade of Doric pillars is set back about 15 metres from a row of pollarded limes, its windows a parade of Georgian arches. At the top of the second floor (there only seem to be two) is a very naval-looking frieze incorporating a coat of arms with sea creatures, tridents - you know the sort of thing. But those railings are far too high for even a phantom to scale unnoticed by the security guard opposite in the Naval College and those gates are always locked.

Such an elegantly simple building down such an elegantly simple street - fabulous old York Stone paving slabs, original iron street lamps and a view down to the Thames that includes the Trafalgar Tavern (not that it always looked this smart - the Trafalgar Tavern, until within living memory - not my own, I hasten to add, had a chequered history - from being a meeting place for the fashionable Victorian gent to being, in the 1930s a centre for the unemployed where, according to In the Meantime, a book by Julian Watson and Kit Gregory which I urge you to own if you don't already, unemployed men could get a meal, play football, learn skills and mend the family's shoes for 1d. Luxury. It then became a fire station for a bit - am I being facetious if I say that it wasn't in the most practical of locations for that, before becoming an apartment block - which, by the way, it was when C. Day Lewis, oops, sorry, Nicholas Blake, wrote The Worm of Death.)

But I digress once again. Sorry. I had wondered if The Trafalgar Quarters still belonged to the navy, its being so very tightly buttoned up and there seeming to be no action going on at all whenever I walked past. It was beautifully maintained by an army of invisible people.

Greenwich Hospital Trust is an organisation treated with suspicion by the Good Burghers of Greenwich. To us they are the big bad landowners who drive out small individual shopkeepers with massive rent hikes and want to turn our town centre into Bluewater to make more cash.

And I must say, it don't look good from where we're standing. Believe me, I'm first in the queue with the letters over the market. I seriously don't trust them further than I could throw them over the development of what we now have to call "The Island Site" (wonder when it will get a sponsor? Maybe we could call it the "T Mobile Island Site" so that another phone compnay could get in on the advertise-around-greenwich act.)

But there is a group of people who actually like these guys, and that is the Greenwich Pensioners. Yes, we still have them. But let me go back to the beginning - or at least the bit I've been able to winkle out. If anyone can add anything to the sketchy stuff I've found about this, please add away...

Trafalgar Quarters were begun in 1813 as offices and storeooms for the Royal Naval Hospital. That, of course, was when they knew how to build offices and storerooms - it's a mini work of art in itself. It was designed by the Hospital Surveyor John Yenn, who presumably didn't get much opportunity to make his mark on Greenwich and didn't care to be found wanting in the history of Greenwich next to such luminaries as Sir Christopher Wren and Inigo Jones. And I reckon the boy done good. It has a Regency restraint which contrasts well to its earlier neighbours, yet manages to say something of its own too.

The coat of arms I mentioned on the frieze is, of course, the Seamen's Hospital Arms - no wonder it looks familiar. It's Coade Stone, of which we have a fair amount in Greenwich. I'll talk about it another day though or this will lead to yet another digression.

Apparently there's a courtyard inside. perhaps it will be open on Open House Day one day - but in the meanwhile, if anyone's ever been in, do tell us about it (or even better, mail me photo...)

Apparently it became servants quarters after the Hospital closed, and because it was now for the Naval College, it was given a military name - Trafalgar "Quarters."

The history becomes a bit murky after that - at least to the amateur eyes of a vaguely-interested-phantom. Letters in the Nautical Almanac Office relate to the use of the building in 1937 - a correspondence with Royal Obsevatory which I guess might imply it was linked with the astronomers.

It became sheltered housing in 2001, owned by Greenwich Hospital Trust; administered, by the Church of England Soldiers and Sailors and Airmens Clubs.

It has 21 one-bedroom flats and appears to be specifically for ex mariners or widowed spouses. Sadly they can't bring their parrots as pets are not allowed. Maybe that's the real reason for the
parrot-ical invasion in Greenwich Park...

BTW - does anyone know anything about Trident Hall? All I can find is that they don't seem to be filing any legal documents...

Desi Spice

27 Bramshot Ave, Charlton SE7

It doesn't take long to get used to the forests-worth of flyers that get shoved through the letterbox morning, noon and night round here. I know the exact repertoire of pizza flyers, curry flyers, Chinese flyers and requests for old clothing by now, the tedium really only interrupted by the odd hand-typed leaflet for a splendid-sounding exotic spiritual medium who guarantees rude health, undying love and immortality.

"Under New Management" is one of the few phrases in these flyers that attracts my attention. When it's accompanied by a new picture on the front too, I suspect they mean business.

Armed with the usual Phantom Control Meal order, I called an extremely friendly chap who was chatty and efficient without being obsequious. Much earlier than the estimated arrival time another very cheery chap arrived with carrier bags and a smile.

From that point the experience became a little more uneven. One of the rice dishes was exquisitely cooked and very fresh and tasty, they other had clearly been hanging around for some time. From the second the lid came off, I missed that fresh, steaming aroma that really well-cooked rice exudes, and the visuals weren't much better - flabby, flat grains sitting flatly in the dish, willing me to end it all for them. Strangely it didn't taste bad, but it was not the best rice I've had by a very long way.

The poppadoms, too were a mixed bag - one half sad, soggy discs of cardboard, the other, clearly from a different batch, crisp, light and utterly fabulous.

The mains are where one can usually tell what a place is made of, and these actually tasted very nice. The flavour was good, rounded and just of the right spiciness. The texture, however, let them down. Very, very oily (I'm still trying to remove the residue from the sink) and, no matter what the dish was, looking and feeling exactly the same as its brothers and sisters. It was just one big mass of (very flavoursome) orange goo.

There was one thing that was superb. The onion bhajis were possibly the best I have tasted in a very long time. Large, crispy and full of flavour, they were easily the most enjoyable bit about the meal.

Oddly, we enjoyed this rather more than it sounds like . There is something about very oily food that is gooey, naughty and ever-so-slightly nauseating but a guilty pleasure all the same.

My big worry about this place is consistency. There were such variations in quality within single dishes of our control meal that I'm not sure I could vouch for anything on this menu ever being the same again - it could be worse - or it could be better. I just can't tell.

By all means try it - and if you do, let us know how you get on. In the meanwhile, I'm still sitting on Cafe Massala for takeaway and Kerala Zone for eat-in, but that could change very soon. There are many many, many more Indian restaurants to try - and so little time.

Aren't we all looking forward to Bombay Bicycle...

I couldn't make the website work, but here it is anyway:

http://www.desi-spice.co.uk/

020 8858 3777

Mad Buildings: One

This is the first of a series in which I'll be looking at the crazy architecture of Greenwich. On the one hand we have The Painted Hall, The Royal Observatory and St Alfege's church. On the other hand...

I went down to see what the latest was with the ex-Jet garage and discovered this extremely odd building. It's been unoccupied for years - and no wonder - it's clearly a flat for one of Greenwich Film Unit's film sets. It's so hideous and yet bland at the same time that it could be any part of any town in Modern Britain, thus sticking to the GFU tag line "Greenwich - Could Be Bloody Anywhere..."

It's actually ex-offices - "Dutton" - whoever they were, (a recruitment agency, if memory serves, but don't quote me) and they presumably employed very thin people indeed...

I can only assume that the rather lovely East Greenwich Library next door is a very weird shape and that the nasty building in question was built according to the footprint available - it's sort of rhomboid-with-bits-cut-out. Frankly I wouldn't be gutted if they took Dutton away at the same time as the Jet garage, fumigated the lot and built something interesting - let's face it - it couldn't be worse than this (could it?)

In the meanwhile, it at least has comedy value for people waiting at the bus stop...

Ex-chippie

Kratch asks:

I have a question for you: do you happen to know what’s happening to the old fish and chip shop at the bottom of Earlswood Road?

It's intriguing, isn't it... There's definitely something going on, but quite what it is I have no idea. I've not been able to catch the workmen yet - they're usually the best people to ask.

Anyone else know?

Jet Garage (for Naomi)

Naomi asks:

I live in Westcombe Park and am intrigued to know what is going to happen on the site of the old Jet Petrol Station on Woolwich road, opposite the bottom of Halstow Road? Thought you would know!

Hi Naomi - yes - we were discussing this the other day - it's an intriguing prospect isn't it. I asked the guys who were clearing out the remains of the garage shop into their van the day it closed and they told me that it will be - surprise, surprise, luxury flats. Quite when that will happen is anyone's guess. In the meanwhile it has become an urban playground for small boys with bicycles...

Weddings

Ahhh. I have a really sweet Ask the Phantom here.

Jemma asks:

I've lived in Greenwich for 3 years, having previously lived in Eltham for 8 years. I wouldn't want to move anywhere else! My boyfriend moved his home and his job from Surrey last year and he loves it too.

We are getting married this summer and want it to be in Greenwich. We'd like a civil ceremony at Rangers House but really can't afford the venue hire (£ 4k) to hire it for the evening so we're thinking of hiring the orangery at the fan museum for a lunch instead. What do you think of the fan museum for a reception? Any help would be appreciated!

I think the Fan Museum would be a fabulous venue for a wedding - I didn't know they did them, but it would be wonderful - elegant and unusual. Presumably you don't have a massive guest list as the place isn't that large (I would also find out in advance when the roadworks are likely to end - the photographs would be a bit duff with massive holes in the road...)

I have no idea what their catering is like - but maybe you have outside caterers in mind?

The Trafalgar Tavern is a lovely place for a reception, but the prices have taken a serious hike in recent years, and if Rangers House is out of the question, then I suspect that The Trafalgar will be too. Ditto Eltham Palace, which I am sure you have already considered.

There are several lovely venues within the Old Royal Naval College - not just the Painted Hall or the Chapel. Ask them about the Admiral's House - or even, if you're after 'quirky,' the skittle alley.

http://www.oldroyalnavalcollege.org/venue-hire/weddings,21,AT.html

The Queen's House would be another elegant solution for a larger party. Again I have no idea of prices. I don't know whether the garden at the Old Royal Observatory is available but if it isn't the Octagon Room may be.

http://www.nmm.ac.uk/server/show/nav.00500400k001

I once went to a wedding at the Cutty Sark. It was wonderful, though the peripatetic trad jazz band ran into problems with the low ceilings - the sousaphone player had to sit down. I don't think, with all the tent-y stuff there is round it just now, that it's available (or desirable) at the moment, but when it gets its glass roof, it will be fabulous.

If you want to be REALLY far out, you could always do what some friends of mine did - a pagan handfasting ceremony at the stone circle in Hilly Fields. That's free - but be prepared to have small boys on bicycles riding past sniggering at robe-clad guests invocating the spirits (sky-clad not allowed on a Saturday afternoon...)

Second thoughts, you're probably best off with the Orangery.

Anyone else got any more suggestions for elegant, moving locations for Jemma's wedding? Let us know what you choose, Jemma - we'll come along and throw some rice...

Restaurants coming to the Dome

Someone who wishes to remain anonymous passed on to me this list of the restaurants that will be included at the new Dome complex (I guess at some point I'm going to have start calling it that ridiculous name but for now the Dome will do...)

So here it is in full (so far, of course - there may well be more) Some are obligatory (wouldn't we all be devastated if Starbucks didn't come...) Some are predictable, solid performers, one or two are intriguing prospects.

Gary Rhodes - Could be interesting. One to watch.

Frankie & Benny's - Ho-hum. Might be good for the one time I visit the multiplex before going back to the Picturehouse.

Inc Brassiere - The latest offering from Guess Who.

Las Iguanas - I don't know this place - South American food. Sounds like a chain but might be interesting.

Nandos - I adore Nandos. I know I shouldn't - but I do. They're just fab.

Pizza Express - We all know this one - a tried and tested oldie.

S & M Cafe - I'm quite excited about this one. The one in Spitalfields is fab. S&M, for those who don't know, is the hilariously-titled Sausage and Mash (fnnar fnnar...)

Spur Steak Ranches - Another chain. Might be ok.

Starbucks Coffee Company - I'd start to get some sort of inferiority complex if there wasn't one of these included. Did you know that in Brazil they're nicknamed "charbucks" because they burn their coffee in the roast?

Thai Silk restaurant & bar - I know it's a chain but I like Thai Silk. Hope it keeps its high standards.

Urban Inc - Not one but two establishments from Our Frank.

Wasabi - Another chain

Water Margin - Apparently an oriental buffet. I don't know it myself.

Zizzi - Yet another chain - but could be fun. I've enjoyed Zizis when I've been to others.

What does everyone else think of this list? We were never going to get one-offs here. I wonder whether that might leave the way for some interesting individual restaurants to chance their arms in Greenwich town centre?

Chapter Two

43-45 Montpelier Vale, SE3

What can I say about Chapter Two that most people don't already know?

If you're a fan don't bother reading any more of this entry - I'll be telling you nothing new. If you don't know the place, read on.

Chapter Two is the sister restaurant of Chapter One in Locksbottom which has a Michelin star, but some I've spoken to actually prefer the Blackheath version. I can't say - I've not been to Ch1 (yet...)

The two don't share an exec chef. While Andrew McLeish resides at Ch1, Trevor Tobin is CH2's chef and he has designed a Modern European menu ( I call it 'small food') that includes a mix of seasonal and classic dishes, all beautifully presented (miniature piles of food, exquisitely arranged with dibs and dribs of sauces in artistic patterns) but inexplicably filling.

What I like about the way these foods are balanced is that when they arrive, they don't look much. They're pretty enough, but don't look like they're going to satisfy. However, they are cleverly assembled so that they have a filling effect despite their size.

Here's an example. I ordered the mackerel as a starter. It looked lovely - a small, rich, pan-fried slab balanced on something with an interesting pattern of something else arranged as a sauce. The something that the mackerel was balanced on was, I believe, based on Puy lentils and the sauce a reduction of aubergine. All three of these ingredients are rich and filling on their own. They arrived on my plate in exactly the right amounts to take up exactly the right amount of room in one's stomach, to appetize, but leave room for the main course.

My companion's Pea Veloute was even more unpromising to start with - a tiny lump of fried haddock balanced on top of mushy peas (I think they might have called them 'crushed' - that's posh restaurants for you...) But as the waitress poured the bright, spring-green veloute around the haddock, it created a fabulous-looking dish - as well as a small theatrical experience.

The red onion tatin I chose as a main fulfilled a similar function - as much a feast for the eye and nose (and ear - the crackle as my knife pierced the outer layers sends a frisson of anticipatory excitement up the spine) as the mouth. Delicate flavours of baked onion with overtones of pastis and roasted salsify went a long way to the slight disappointment I felt as I reluctantly bit into the last mouthful, but once again, Tobin's expertise in knowing exactly how much to supply on a plate was almost perfect.

I say 'almost' because, in the absolute perfect world of the chef's expertise, one would actually be able to manage a pudding too. Sadly, there just was no way I was going to be able to fit in any more, but we studied the dessert menu anyway. I suspect we may have studied it a little too much, since it was an absolute delight - a nit-picker's feast of grammatical error - spelling mistakes, wandering apostrophes, typos - you name it, it was here. Not something one would expect from a place as smart as this (though admittedly I had not noticed similar howlers on the main menu.)

The desserts themselves, however, looked divine. For once not relying heavily on chocolate as an ingredient (just two of the options included it, which was a welcome relief for me. I love chocolate - but not at the exclusion of anything else, and frankly after a meal, I usually prefer something a little lighter.) I was particularly attracted by the delightfully old-fashioned lemon posset and the baked vanilla yoghurt with rhubarb. Some of the dessert wines also looked fabulous.

In fact the wine list as a whole was excellent. There wasn't a sommelier in sight when we went, but there was a condensed 'sommelier's choice' list on the wine menu, which included some superb bottles, including Decanter award winners.

The decor has a smart, 1990s feel to it - if it doesn't hail from then, it certainly feels like it - but that's not necessarily a bad thing. It's in no way anything other than immaculate - wooden floors, dark blue high-back chairs, lots of white linen. The smoked mirrors do a great job of making the place look richer - and larger - than it actually is - they work especially well downstairs in the much larger space (more room, no natural light, so better for winter meals.)

The service is friendly. The waitresses spoke a little more English than in most places around here, but ours still had to get the manager to answer an extremely basic question about the menu.

The prices aren't cheap, but they are good for what you get. You're expected to have at least two courses, though you could either choose a starter or a dessert as your second choice. Presumably if you have a large appetite you could have a third, too. Main courses are £ 12.95, starters and puds roll in at £ 5.50 each. On Friday and Saturday evenings you have to have the special deal at the special price of £ 24.50 for three courses.

We return to Chapter Two on an irregular-but-always-much-anticipated basis.

www.chaptersrestaurants.com

Greenwich Market Consultation

I guess by now, we've all received our letters from Greenwich Hospital Trust about the 'consulation' they're launching into what they want to do with Greenwich's covered market. If you haven't, there's a website:

www.greenwichmarketconsultation.org.uk

which has what we're allowed to know so far on it.

I fully intend to write with my two penn'orth (as I outlined back in January - I'm copying it here as it's a bit hard to find in my somewhat rambling archives) but I hope lots of people will be writing in too. I know it's a "consultation" which basically doesn't mean anything as a word - it means we're asked about things, we tell them and then they can choose to ignore us - but we should tell them anyway...

Anyway - here's what I wrote in January - who agrees with me - or disagrees?

"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. That's a given.

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, especially if the small shops can be sympathetically supported somehow while work is being done. Naturally if they want to bring in a Body Shop, Tie Rack, Baby Gap, Accessorise, Next or similar, all bets are off.

US Embassy, Greenwich?

The US Embassy in Grosvenor Square is up for sale at £ 90m. Frankly I'm not in the market for it. What used to be an elegant West London square has been denuded of any charm, desecrated by gigantic concrete lumps, plastic road blocks and sentry boxes, a little piece of Fort Knox in Britain. I'll be saving my £ 90m for something a little less, well, ugly.

It was a bit at the bottom of the feature that caught my eye. Apparently, the US government are considering moving their embassy to, among others, Greenwich.

Is this something we welcome? On the plus side, there would be a lot of new people visiting SE London - it might give us a few more tourists who've been forced to trudge out here to get a visa - but apart from that I'm struggling to think of reasons I'd want a known security risk in my neck of the woods. They don't say WHERE in Greenwich they're contemplating commandeering to turn into a hideous concrete Secret Headquarters of Doom, a magnet for anyone with weapons who disapproves of US foreign policy (ouch) but I'm guessing that it won't be anywhere that would keep them out of the way.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-American. But that embassy is a truly unpleasant place where it is now - everything that's bad about a fundamentally good country. I can't imagine that relocating to somewhere in Greenwich is going to turn it into a hub for the local community. My partner thinks it's a great idea. I'm not convinced.

Presumably there's serious money on the table for any council who's prepared to take these guys on, but I'll be interested to watch what happens when, after welcoming Our American Friends into the area, Greenwich Council has to stand by while they lead the movement to refuse to pay the congestion charge (tee hee, lights blue touch-paper and retires...)

What's the general view on this? Perhaps someone knows sites they're considering (shame - they just missed out on the Dome. Maybe they'd like to buy Belmarsh - that one's nicely fortified already.)

I can't really get a handle on it yet. My knee-jerk reaction is wary, but I'm prepared to have my mind changed...

Paul McPherson Gallery

77, Lassell St SE10

Paul McPherson's tiny gallery is tucked away down an East Greenwich side street, and you might miss it unless you were actually looking out for it, but it's well worth a visit - and a regular visit at that.

Paul McPherson himself is a graphic artist and designer - he's the man responsible for that wonderful Hope & Greenwood sweetie packaging (now there's a shop I could stand a sister branch in Greenwich - but that's a whole other story.) He's also worked for J&B Whisky and Smirnoff but his best-known work in Greenwich is probably the graphics for Theatre of Wine. You can see the sort of thing he does on his website.

He works from the back room, which leaves the gallery at the front available for rolling exhibitions from up-and-coming artists. They're not always my cup of tea, but that's the beauty of a rolling display - the artists change on a regular basis, so if you don't like one, the next one might turn out to be a favourite.

The Paul Catherall exhibition on at the moment is excellent (he did those fab posters on the underground with the lino prints of modern London landmarks but is possibly better known, if you hang out round bookshops, for the design for The Cloudspotters Guide - you can find him at www.paulcatherall.com) but you never know who's going to be there so it's worth making a regular date in your diary.

It's minute - the size of a shopfront, but it's crisp, bright and modern - a perfect exhibition space for a new artist. The door is a 'normal' front door and can look intimidating - but if it's regular office hours, chances are it will be open - and if it's not and Paul's in, if you ring the doorbell, he'll let you in. There's no obligation to buy of course,and there are usually sweeties in a jar at the back as an extra incentive to visit...

www.paulmcphersongallery.com