The Phantom's Favourite Front Gardens (6)

The Fan Museum, Crooms Hill, SE10

Ok, folks, I'm being all fluffy again today and waxing lyrical about a lovely little secret corner of Greenwich which many pass by (its being slightly set away from the road) and yet adds, in its quiet way, a little moment of happiness for me - and, I hope, others who pass by. Aaahhh...

After yesterday's entry which is more likely to be seen by locals than tourists, todays, I'll bet, gets viewed by visitors and the rest of us only notice it when our mums are visiting...

As you will probably know by now I'm most impressed by front yards that have very little obvious potential, but which their owners have not given up on - the one in Angerstein Lane that has virtually no light, for example - or the tiny one in Maze Hill that most would think was far too small for a formal landscape - or even the one at St Alfege's Passage that has no 'garden' at all.

Basements - however pretty the houses themselves might be - can be excuses for doing nothing - no one's going to notice so why bother? So it's double joy when someone does something good with one.

Now, admittedly, if you're going to have a basement front garden, Crooms Hill ain't a bad place to have it - but I always get a little frisson of pleasure whenever I pass the Fan Museum and look down. Giant sword ferns and potted evergreens jostle with hanging baskets of annuals and what looks suspiciously like an overgrown house plant. The little cast iron table and chairs(which may or may not belong to the people next door - I don't care - it's the overall effect through that arch that counts and if neighbours can co-operate to create a nice view for the rest of us I'm not complaining) looks wonderfully inviting even if no one ever sits in it and even practical things like the security bars at the window, the floodlight and the rolled hose are part of the pleasure of this place.

The Phantom smiles serenely.

Davy's Wine Vaults

161 Greenwich High Road, SE10

Tucked away the "wrong" side of the station, I bet this little gem gets missed by the majority of tourists. The snob in me avoided it for a while because it was a chain (albeit one that's been going since 1870) but it seems I've been missing out.

It looks so olde-worlde-cute that I had to ask if the decor was actually genuine. Apparently it is - and if it has been 'enhanced,' I buy it. The lady behind the bar told me that it was originally a wholesalers and the sloping floor (which is still sprinkled with sawdust - don't let your coat touch the floor or you'll have some very interesting 'dandruff' when you leave) was so that the barrels could be rolled around more easily. The floor's rakish stance does mean that some of the simple candlelit tables and Windsor chairs are at an interesting angle - but you could always put it down to the number of pints of Davy's Old Wallop, served in pewter tankards, you've had...

To one side of the main bar, there's an old booth, that would have been used for making tallies and taking orders - there appears to be a little office in there now. Barrels are strategically placed, and there is a display of old bottles lit with a low light. It's all very Dickensian - though more Mr Micawber than Bill Sykes, judging from the prices these days...

What's really lovely about this place are all the nooks and crannies - little private areas and odd corners, often very dimly lit indeed. There are several tables just for a very few people, allowing private tete-a-tetes and intimate groups, as well as bigger tables in an adjoining room. Outside there is a yard with some old barrels and seating, which is good for a sunny day, but, considering the weather that's just arrived, will soon only be fit for the most hardened smoker.

You have to step down into the bar, so I was surprised when the lady told me there was a series of function rooms underneath it, which can be hired. They have a separate entrance, so it's not just like hiring the back room of a pub - and you get the whole floor to yourself.

Being underground, there's no natural light of course, but the plan follows a similar pattern to upstairs so are several small/medium/largish labyrinthine rooms which open into each other. They are dimly lit which makes it all very mysterious, and you can decorate them as you wish (nothing permanent, ok?) and there is a funky sound system which will take your ipod. There are also some simple conference facilities - when I sneaked a peek there was a screen and projector set up in one of the rooms, with a flip chart and desks.

If your party's quite small, you can choose to just use one or two of the rooms, though the price is the same however much you use. It's £ 200 per night, which includes staff and the opening of the fully-stocked bar downstairs (the bar itself is fab - looking like a merchant's chest, with dozens of wooden drawers built into it.) There are various menus - from canape to buffet - obviously at extra cost.

I think it would be best for winter celebrations (Christmas would be ideal) as it is very dark and cosy - I'd miss the sun in summer. The only celebrations they're not too keen on are 18th and 21st birthdays as they've had trouble in the past and there can be problems with underage drinking.

But back to the wine bar. They have a large wine list, but I confess I must have chosen poorly. I had a glass of White Burgundy (with which I generally can't go wrong) which was the 'best' of the wines by the glass. Writing now, almost a week later, I can't actually remember anything at all about it - it had very little aroma - or even taste. It wasn't awful - but I would have expected better for £ 5.95.

Davy's do wine tastings on an occasional basis. I will endeavour to visit one (the things I go through for this blog, eh. Darling, it's hell - but someone has to do it...) and report back. The other thing that requires an entry by itself is the separate Davy's Wine Shop just round the corner - but that's also for another day.

Post Shop

Greenwich High Road SE10

I know it's been open for a couple of months now, but it's taken me this long to get around to actually needing to post a letter from the main office - sorry Post 'Shop' in Greenwich High Road.

Gone are the grey carpets, gloomy outlook and sullen staff behind grimy counters, arrived is a slightly odd mix of newsagents, groceries and stationery supplies - of the office variety - photocopier paper, box files, in-trays and bubble wrap. The actual post office is right at the back, with new, open counters and cheery staff - but one thing hasn't changed.

The queues. One, giant Queue of Doom, in fact, snaking through the stationery isles, finally fizzling out about halfway down the store's length. So that's where all the people that have mysteriously disappeared from Woolwich Road have gone. I only had a letter to send but it took a good fifteen minutes to get to the front.

My only compensation was the jolly man who served me. An absolute joy, he was friendly, articulate and very helpful indeed. And as I left I got a happy smile from the lady at the desk too. I'm easily pleased...

On a different note, Geoff, our postman, who is the living embodiment of that Viz character Postman Plod the Miserable Sod, but of whom I'm rather fond, tells me that he's going on strike on Friday. I'm glad he warned me. I might not have noticed otherwise...

Does anyone else not get their post before 4.00pm at the earliest on a Friday?

Acupuncture

Laura asks:

"Phantom, I wonder if you could ask if anyone has had any experience of the Greenwich Natural Health centre based in Royal Hill, in particular the acupuncture side of things?"

The Phantom Replies:

I'm sure someone has - but it ain't me. Eurgh. Needles (The Phantom comes over all woozy and has to have a cup of weak tea and a lie-down)

Stabbing?

Lorna has a worrying question:

"I'm really concerned about the apparent stabbing that happened in the park behind St Alfege's last week. I've been told that it was two school kids, but I can't find anything in the news about it. The police have put notes through the door asking if anyone saw anything and are referring to it as a "serious assault". I walk through this park every day on my way to and from work and am now concerned about how safe it is..."

The Phantom Replies:

I haven't heard anything about it. It's amazing what goes on that we never hear or read about - I once witnessed a major police stakeout and it didn't even warrant a couple of inches in the News Shopper. Anyone got any insider info?

Handymen

Donovan says:

Aaargh, I'm trying to fit new lights, and whoever the coyboy (do you mean cowboy - or was he really coy? ;-) I have a fabulous image of a blushing bodger...TGP) was that did the conversion in my flat way back in those crazy 90s wired up the circuit in his own special way. To say I was an amateur would be overstating my understanding of electricals, but I thought that just copying what was there might work. Lo and behold, no it doesn't. Thusly, and with further ado, I have rendered my flat a dingy cave and am in need of a good local handyman to sort out my foolishness. Any recommendations?

The Phantom commiserates:

Are you really down to candles? If you look at the back pages of The Westcombe News there always seem to be handymen advertised there, though I can't recommend anyone as the last person I got in was definitely a cowboy (no blushes - he was a brazen bodger...)

Just because they're advertised in the Westcombe News doesn't make them good - so do check credentials and make sure you get them to give you references (I speak from bitter experience.) Better still someone here might be able to give you an actual name.

It occurs to me that if you're doing electrical work you may also have the added headache of having to get a qualified electrician - the law changed last year which means that you either have to get a qualified spark or a certificate from the local authority that says your own work is up to scratch (possibly quite difficult to obtain just at the moment under the circumstances...)It's a real pain and yet another example of Nanny State.

There is definitely a big call for GOOD handymen/builders etc - and an awful lot of bad ones around. I wish I could be more helpful.

Thames Clipper

Commuter Service

It's the one form of public transport no one remembers - yet it's only recently fallen from favour. For centuries it was the quickest way to get around town, and it's still the most civilised. I'm not talking about the pleasure boats here - though I'm going to do a trip soon, just for the kick of it - I'm talking about the river bus, designed for and used by people going to work each day.

I have been meaning to join a commuter clipper at rush hour for some time now - and yesterday I actually managed it. I took a train to London Bridge and walked to Bankside Pier (just outside the Globe Theatre.) The little booth was shut (of course) and the signs seemed to imply that everything stopped at 4.30pm. That surely couldn't be right? But the place was empty and there was no traffic at all on the river. It's all part of the British Tourist Disinformation Service, clearly.

I was just about to give up when I saw a determined-looking guy with a briefcase striding down to the deserted platform. He clearly knew what he was doing so I hung around. A minute or two later, a small launch appeared up river and suddenly half a dozen people with briefcases materialised out of nowhere. Perhaps it's uncool to be seen queueing if you're one of that elite band The River-Rovers...

It's all very matey. A jolly chap in shirtsleeves hooks a rope over a bollard, and the boat bumps gently into the row of tractor tyres against the pier. He holds the launch close to the edge and greets you as you enter. A jolly young conductor in a suit and tie welcomes you aboard. In fact it's all - well - jolly.

And that gives me a great idea. I'll Make A Million. I can just see it now. I'll pitch it to CBeebies as a new TV programme for the under-fives - Jim and Ben the ClipperMen. Jim and Ben will be made out of foam rubber and will have merry stop-motion animated tales helping the commuters of London get to work. There would never be anything so uncivilised as terrorists or srikes on something as civilised as the Thames Clipper, of course. Perhaps one day a kitten will get stuck on a branch in the river or a naughty thief will try to steal a big diamond from the Savoy. Jim and Ben will come to the rescue. There's a hit Christmas single in it too-

(-that's enough children's TV - Ed)

So I got on board. Many of the seats were already taken by people with laptops or reading the paper. (Yes, London Lite has permeated even here. Whatever next? The Reform Club, perhaps?) No one was paying any attention to the view, except a couple of EXTREMELY fat tourists who kept complaining about how small the seats were (they were fine.)

Mind you, to be honest there wasn't much view to be had. The boat sat low in the water and the windows were so filthy with spray that it reminded me of buses in the 1970s whose windows were so caked with dirt you couldn't actually tell where you were. But this is the River. It's to be expected. And if you're not looking for detail there's still plenty to be seen - and from an angle you wouldn't normally get to view London from.

The river bus stops a lot more than I had expected. There is an express service, but being a rank beginner, I couldn't work out when it was. The website does help - but of course I hadn't bothered consulting it first. The commuter service goes all the way to Woolwich but it doesn't stop at the Dome - you have to get the designated "O2 Express for that." Jim comes round to clip your ticket - ever wondered what happened to the bus conductors of Olde London Town? They're on the river, folks.

I was surprised by how many people got on and off at each stop. The clipper really did fill up (though we are talking about 5.30pm - bang in the middle of the rush hour) and it seemed to be with people that do this every day. It takes longer - about 40 minutes from Bankside to Greenwich - and costs a bit more - £ 4, or £ 2.70 if you've got a travelcard, but you get a seat, people are polite and it's a much more visceral experience. You bob about on the water, you see curious and interesting things through the murky glass (it's not that bad, honest) and, cheesy though it may sound, you get a sense of continuity with the millions of Londoners who have used the river for the last thousand or so years. Besides - you get to meet Jim and Ben... And that view of Greenwich as the boat turns the bend in the river is one that I will never tire of. The Naval College, the Observatory on the hill - even the poor old Cutty Sark in her undies - wonderful.

As we were approaching Greenwich, Jim - or was it Ben - brought round newsletters for everyone. Apparently they've just taken delivery of four fab new vessels which will be much bigger and higher (better views, too, I hope) and will have cafes and bars. They're also expecting to expand the service. It read a bit like gobbledegook to me who was on the service for the first time, but what it boils down to seems to be including the Dome (oops, O2) from November and to be more frequent at peak times.

Give it a try, folks. And look out for those new launches - from the pics, they look damn fine.

http://www.thamesclippers.com/

Johnny Rocket

10, College Approach, SE10

I have a friend who, after many years of happy marriage (or we thought so anyway) suddenly announced it was all a sham, split up with her husband and got divorced in record time. She went underground for a (very) few months so when we finally got together I thought I was going to spend a lot of time dispensing very gooey cake.

Instead she seemed quite chipper. She'd been dating, she told me. Great, I said. Anyone interesting? Well, there was one, she supposed. She didn't seem particularly bothered.

We had a nice cup of tea and cake (well - I wasn't going to give up the cake opportunity, was I?) and I suggested we meet the next week. She apologised. She couldn't make next week as she was getting married.

To the guy she'd only just met? Was she sure? Did she love him? Well, he was the best of the bunch and she didn't want to waste any more time...

She told me she needed a ring, and pronto. By Sunday, in fact. But she didn't want any old plain gold band - she'd already done that. She wanted something wild, to celebrate the New Her.

Frankly, there was only one place that sprang to my mind for such an item. A woman with newly-found gay abandon, lots of cash and an impending marriage?

Johnny Rocket is a jeweller and retailer. From what I can tell, they do their own range of interesting pieces, and they sell the work of up, coming and arrived contemporary designers, some of whom I've actually even heard of.

In a selfish kind of way I was grateful to my friend as up until that point I had only ever pressed my insubstantial phantasmagorical nose against the glass of the little boutique in College Approach. This gave me an excuse to have a nose around at first hand, while my friend bought herself the ultimate funky love token.

It's a tiny little jewel of a place itself. Classic glass cabinets in dark wood, filled to the gills with twinkly things - both individual sparky one-offs and items from designers' core ranges. A blood-red velvet sofa sits below an ornate rococo-style mirror and the almost obligatory chandelier, and a little staircase leads, presumably, to Mr Johnny Rocket (John Pearce, I believe, who works with his mate Niall Paisley) and his magic workshop. Was it from down those steps that he created Jamiroquai's headdress and half of Kylie's jewel box? Probably not as he's only been here since 2005, but it's good to dream.

You have to press a buzzer to get in, so browsing is strictly controlled - individual service is the name of the game. That's perfectly understandable given the value of the goods on display, of course. Goods that range from a single, understated, elegant statement to the show-stopping kind of geejaws that need the sort of occasion I don't get to go to very often to set them off.

It harks back to the days of proper service. Someone actually takes the time to find out about your occasion and help you find something special for it - though of course not everyone has to wait for an occasion - while we were in there someone came in for a fitting for some individually-created piece who had a cosy familiarity with the staff (and Mr R. himself) others reserve for the greengrocer or the baker. It's now of course, an ambition to add Johnny Rocket to my weekly shopping list...

My only possible complaint is, perhaps his own success. While we were in there, it filled up with gossipy regulars, whose chatter, toddlers and sheer presence somewhat put me off my stroke. Suddenly I felt ever so-slightly abandoned, though that may well have had something to do with the fact that I was only there as "supportive friend" anyway.

Will my pal's new marriage last? Who can tell? But that ring. That ring is here to stay...

www.johnnyrocketltd.co.uk

Frisbee

How did it go, folks?

Do I need to get my frilly phantasmagorical cheerleader costume out yet? Altogether now...

Ra, Ra, On your marks
Have some larks
With the Cutty Sharks!

Ra, Ra,
When you're in the Parks
Watch your backs
It's the Cutty Sharks!

Ra, Ra
If your dog barks
He wants to join
With the Cutty Sharks!

Ra, Ra-

(that's enough "sharks" rhyming - Ed.)

Greenwich Market Consultation

Methers has very kindly pointed out a date I didn't know about - which makes me think that quite a few other people won't have heard about it either.

Greenwich Hospital Trust will be having a two-day exhibition of their plans concerning Greenwich Market Friday 5th and Saturday 6th October. It's at 3-4 Nelson Road, next door to Warwick Leadlay Gallery. I think it must be the empty shop that used to be Bear Mad.

See the flyer here:

http://www.greenwichmarketconsultation.org.uk/sitefiles/upload_docs/Exhibition%20Ad%20for%20Website.pdf

Most annoyingly I am away for those two days (just those two days, which makes it all the more infuriating) so I won't be able to make it. You'd think they could leave it up for a week or so, wouldn't you. But then maybe the idea isn't to let as many people as possible see what they plan to do in case they actually get feedback.

So... I need you lot to let me know what the plans look like, and what you think of them. You'll have to be my eyes on this one. If there are any good pics to be had, I'd love to see them too...

Number 37

37, Burney St, SE10

There's an interesting new guesthouse/B&B in Burney St which looks quite fun. I haven't actually been to stay there yet - I need to find some good excuse - but I thought I'd let you know about it in case you've got friends or relatives coming to stay and St Alfeges is all booked up now they're TV stars...

Run by Julia and Steve, Number 37's only been open a couple of months so it all looks quite new and fresh. The photos on the website look good - but for the moment that is all I can say. I will try to get to stay there when I can , but in the meanwhile, if you or a relative pays a visit, do let me know how you get on...

http://www.burney.org.uk/

New Capital Quay!!!

London's New Waterside Village!!!

Actual Views!

Guaranteed Income up to 2012!

LONG TERM CAPITAL GROWTH POTENTIAL!!*
*selected plots only. car parking at additional cost. main image computer-generated

No doubt here about who this ad in the London Paper on Wednesday was aiming at, and it ain't anyone who actually wants to live in Greenwich.

Yup, folks, we have the delights of a new gated 'community' coming to our doorstep soon. It is, of course, that bit of land along the river by the Creek near the Cutty Sark. 600 'luxurious' apartments and duplexes amid 'riverside restaurants,' bars and a 'quality' food mall.

Anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis will know just how much I loathe gated 'communities,' cloistering themselves off from any life and soul of a local area and sapping the character from the world around them, whilst not appearing to have anything much in the way of social interaction within them either.

This one, in particular, gets my goat. This isn't intended for local people, or even for those who fancy living in Greenwich - it's what it says it is - 'an investment opportunity.' We are a commodity. It's likely the owners of these places won't even live in the area - just rent them out remotely, via some agent, on a short-term basis to transient city-types, who will take no part in the community, just hog all the good views and use the flats as a dormitory.

Presumably there will be one or two 'affordable' places - no doubt tiny little hovels squeezed in at the back by the bins - maybe even with separate entrances so they don't mess up the 'lovely' safe gated bit - but I'm assuming that all the real 'affordable' stuff will be stuck away on the Old Hospital Site (not that I'm aware this company owns any of this, but the overall plan seems gloomily likely) where there is no view and nothing much in the way of swanky facilities.

This all sticks in my craw, but there's something else that REALLY bothers me - and I would be very grateful to know that I am wrong in this if anyone has studied the plans - from the design I saw I couldn't tell.

This is a gated community. Along the Thames. What is happening to the Thames Path at this point?

They couldn't, could they?

Surely?

Bouncers

Greenwich Theatre, until Saturday

I first saw Bouncers in the 1980s. It wasn't in its first flush of youth even then, but it had a vibrancy and immediacy that really captivated me. I was 20 years younger, of course (the age of most of the people in the audience this time round) and I rolled around with laughter at the antics of the four guys who play all the characters with a combination of mime, verse, straight acting and direct address to the audience. Perhaps I saw myself in those gawky teenagers - full of hormonal imbalance and actually giving a damn what other people thought. It might have been created in the 70s, but for me as an 80s teenager, it spoke to me.

I saw it at least twice and the same hazy, rose-tinted memory that tells me that of course I looked great in those enormous shoulder pads, rolled-up sleeves and bouncing, gigantic hair also remembers Bouncers as the ultimate piece of social comment theatre. A lot to live up to, then...

Perhaps before I go any further I had better assure you - I laughed. A lot. Perhaps not like a drain, as I did back when I was a very young student (though the very young students howled this time round too - perhaps it speaks to them too) but enough to thoroughly enjoy the evening.

I didn't actually dress in 80s-dayglo or dodgy peg trousers, but a small part of me was transported back to the Decade That Taste Forgot (strange, isn't it - it was only a couple of years ago that we were describing the 70s thus...)and so, I have to say, was the show.

It's a problem, I guess, with creating the 30th anniversary tour of any show that was such a hit (it won every award going first time around) but has been largely forgotten since. Hull Truck is a solid company with a superb track record and they must have agonised over what to do with this piece which, although carrying universal themes, is, frankly, of its time.

What to do? To present it as a period piece? A time before all bouncers were called "door staff," and either have shaved heads - or, heaven forbid, are female, in which case they sport a blond ponytail as their only distinguishing feature from the gents. A time when they wore penguin suits, not body armour; bow ties, not little curly walkie-talkie cables disappearing down the back of gigantic necks and had to do press ups in the gym rather than government-controlled courses in crowd management?

Or to try to update it and lose many of the gags about girl bouncers, gay bouncers and fat people in a haze of political correctness?

The company have made attempts to update the play with references to ipods and Primark, but some of their best gags are now cliches - do girls really dance round their handbags any more? We no longer need to be told outright that something is a piece of 'social comment.' And unfortunately the smoking ban in July has rendered several jokes redundant at a stroke.

If Hull Truck was creating this piece today, it would be a totally different animal, but many of the essentials remain the same. People still go to clubs to leer at each other, talk to each other, grope at each other. People still have the same insecurities and frustrations, still drink too much.

So it's perhaps unsurprising that the bits that work best about the show are the portrayals of the young folk getting ready for their night out - the boys, gauche, optimistic and full of bravado; the girls, gauche, giggling, and ever-so-slightly bitchy. These are broad stereotypes - and always have been, though I suspect that they are a little 'innocent' as portrayals of young people today. Their very innocence though, is touching - from the wide-eyed boys, happy just to get a quick feel, to the girls - Sexy Susie who sells herself far short, Plain Elaine (such a shame) who can't sell herself at all. The insecurity of youth is never far away and the vignettes still largely work.

I was less convinced with the portrayal of the Bouncers themselves. Maybe they are the bit that it's hard to update without a serious overhaul, but I just didn't feel the kind of menace that the ones I saw all those years ago. I vaguely remember that the guys I saw never looked at each other, never showed any emotion at all - not even Lucky Eric in his 'emotional' speeches, which I found chilling indeed, and a great contrast to the young people. These bouncers were much more cuddly - human, even. I wasn't scared of them. Presumably I wasn't supposed to be.

Ultimately, however, as a vision of British Youth, this still works. The details may have blurred over the years; the increased violence of today skimmed over - the world portrayed here has no mention of drugs, knives or guns - but the insecurities of being a teenager who hasn't yet found their place in society are still painfully accurate.

Go. Laugh at the fart gags. And remember a time when the ultimate expression of rebellion was to chuck up in the municipal flowerbed.

Frisbee in Greenwich park

I said the other day that I didn't want to turn this blog into a noticeboard, but here I go again...

Emma is a founder member of The Cutty Sharks, who are an organised "ultimate" frisbee team. Apparently this involves giving rules to frisbee throwing, which is just plain wrong, if you ask me. But plenty of people disagree and there is now such a thing as a London Winter League, which the Cutty Sharks will be joining. They're looking for new members, so if you fancy it, bowl up at Greenwich Park, on the flat bit between the Observatory and the Queen's House, this Saturday morning at 10.30. You don't need to have any experience, just to think that it sounds like fun...

www.ukultimate.com

www.whatisultimate.com

November Courses at GCC

After my moan about the details being on PDF, the lovely folk at GCC have given me a proper link to those splendid looking courses at Royal Hill in November. The Phantom says check it out!

http://www.gcc.ac.uk/pls/hot_sys/hc_cmged.page_pls_all_content?a=171104&x=98744995510&y=1172906&page=craft_short_course

Laser-free zone

OMG! Surely it wasn't me!

I walked past the Observatory last night and - Horror!!! There's no laser AT ALL! Please don't tell me that some evil person read my blog and thought I was implying the laser should go!

Oh, the guilt!

I was so consumed with hand-wringing, that, at the place where the Meridian crosses Trafalgar Road, I failed to notice what I am informed are new lovely blue uplighters by the bus stop at Eastney St. I shall inspect and report back.

But in the meantime (no pun intended)

Please, ROG! Bring back our lovely green line!

Grace O'Malley

1530 - 1603

Avast! Shiver me timbers me hearties, 'tis International Talk Like A Pirate Day!

And to celebrate with all ye lubbers, I thought I'd talk about one of the swaggering, saucy buccaneers whose dread ship did sail up ye Thames and shiver the timbers of Greenwich Olden Days.

Grace O' Malley was a fine young wench born in County Mayo in the days of Henry VIII. At the time although England controlled Ireland, it mainly had a hands-off policy which left it to individual clans and lords to rule. Grace's father, Owen "Black Oak" O' Malley, was the Lord of the clan and a sea-farin' man - though he didn't need to be a pirate - he already got to tax the local people and anyone who fished in his waters. Every so often the local chieftains toughed each other up and local turf wars were common. As the years war on, though, English intervention hotted up - Henry VIII was worried (rightly, as it turned out) about the security of his borders and wanted the chieftains on his side. His policy, "Submit and Regrant" was just that - he gave extra land to the chieftains who towed his line.

The O'Malley's didn't need Henry - they were powerful enough already.They knew the dangerous waters of the irish Sea - and where all the dastardly pirates hung out. But as Henry moved in closer, the began to cramp the O'Malley style. Black Oak O'Malley went round the long way, and in the process started plundering the odd ship that strayed into his path, and transporting Scottish mercenaries under the cover of his respectable trading business.

Young Grace loved the sea and pestered her da to be allowed to go on a trip to Spain. In what can only be one of those rubbish excuses that parents give to shut up their children, he told her that she couldn't go because her long hair would get caught in the rigging and it would Really Hurt. It didn't work in 16th Century Ireland any more than it would today. Grace shaved off her hair. It earned her the nickname she would keep throughout her life, Gráinne Mhaol, which, roughly translated, means "Bald Grace." She started wearing boy's clothes, despite catcalls such as "Avast Behind!" Those doublet-and-hose combos did no-one's bum any favours...

Her father told her to ignore the scurvy coves - they were just jealous. He started treating her more like a son and taught her to command a ship. He took her on trips with him - and she was just as happy to jump into an affray with pirates as anyone. Who says ladettes are a modern concept?

She was married off to Donal O' Flaherty an Chogaidh (Donal of the Battle) who was, as the name sounds, a big old bruiser of a bilge rat, always up for a Friday night fight at the local tavern after a few bottles of grog. He drank and gambled away Grace's inheritance, and got in the way of her going away to sea by 'giving her' three children - one just like himself, one a sweet man, and a girl, disappointingly for Grace, who turned out very girly indeed.

Donal managed his estates so badly that the people came to Grace for help. She couldn't take over as she was a woman, so she decided to turn to the the only thing she knew - piracy. She started a protection racket - promising ships "safe passage" though her waters in exchange for extortionate 'fees' - if they refused she merely plundered them anyway. Most gave up the booty pretty damn smart.

Her husband, meanwhile, had not changed. He beat up anyone who came close and eventually declared war on a neighbouring clan. His death is mysterious - but what mattered to Grace was that he was dead. Of course she had to look angry - so she declared war on the clan for the murder and rode into battle herself. Her husband's family refused her her widow's pension so she went back to piracy. Arrrgh!

She terrorised the waters around Ireland, though there is one story, just waiting to be made into a Hollywood movie about her taking a handsome Lord captive who had been wounded in battle who she nursed back to health and had an affair with. It was a very silly rival clan who murdered him.

Furious, Grace rode into town, burned their boats, killed the lot of them then took their castle. Unsurprisingly she is known by their descendants as the Dark Lady of Doona. She wasn't happy with just one castle though, so she seduced and married the gullible owner of another one, then locked him out and divorced him. Bizarrely, he forgave her and became her Life Partner instead, helping her in her piratical adventures from then on.

The day after she'd given birth to another child, she was having a snooze in her cabin when they were attacked by Turkish pirates. Seriously pissed off with her crew, she got out of bed and shot the pirates with a blunderbuss. "I don't know - I leave you lot in charge for one day and we get invaded by the Turks..."

She grew in power - by now she had twenty ships. She was becoming a serious problem to the English. They tried to attack her at her castle, but she took the roof off and poured molten lead over her assailants. Various other attempts failed in similarly spectacular fashion. The was a serious price on her head. The English started bribing the other clans so she decided to promise to be good. She had no intention of being so. She continued to rob and plunder. She was captured, but managed to get out. Yo ho-ho. She was 54 and it was a pirate's life for her.

Back in England, Queen Elizabeth I was on the throne by now and terrified of the Irish joining forces with Spain. She started putting the squeeze on Grace. Her sons were captured, and then she was. Her clansmen arranged to pay a ransom. In a tit-for-tat battle, Grace burned a town. The English killed one of her sons. She attacked again. They took her possessions. The Spanish Armada came and went.

Eventually Grace got fed up with dealing with middlemen. She wrote to the Queen, telling her that things had gone far enough. She explained that she had been forced to become a pirate for the past 40 years to feed her people, and made Elizabeth an offer. If the queen would let O'Malley keep her men, arms and ships, she would attack the queen's enemies. Seemed like a deal to Elizabeth. She was quite impressed and sent her some questions, which Grace answered cleverly.

But letter-writing was for wimps. She sailed around to London and surprised the Queen at Greenwich Castle. She even wore a fine gown for the occasion. Everyone threw their hands up in horror at this burly pirate in a dress and thought she'd get arrested, especially when she refused to bow as she didn't recognise the queen as her monarch.

Everyone was shocked at this uncouth barbarian swilling grog and swaggering around in big boots. It's said she sneezed and a lady-in-waiting gave her a fine lace handkerchief. She blew her nose noisily then threw it into the fire - after all, she argued, why would you want to use a hanky again after you've covered it in snot? Elizabeth roared with laughter and granted Grace a private audience. It's a mystery what went on - but Grace secured the release of her youngest son, the dismissal of her nemesis back in Ireland - and the respect of the English queen.

It didn't last long. Grace O'Malley went back to her scallywag ways, especially after Elizabeth returned the nemesis to Ireland. She never did see the gallows though - she died at home in 1603, the same year as Elizabeth herself.

Weekend Courses at Greenwich Community College

I've had a followup to the Greenwich Community College summer courses thread.

They say:

We were looking through one of your debates on the Greenwich Phantom website, which was about our lovely Royal Hill Centre (we call it the Greenwich Park Centre). We wondered if we could use your site as a platform to help spread the word about more fabulous craft/creative courses we have to offer this November.

We are running a range of weekend courses on Saturday 10th & Sunday 11th November 2007. Here is a link to the list of courses on our website.

http://www.gcc.ac.uk/pls/hot_sys/hc_cmged.page_pls_all_content?a=171104&x=98588521812&y=0&page=craft


The Phantom adds:

I don't really want to turn this blog into a noticeboard, butI know that many of you will want to know about this one - I've had a look at these taster courses and they look quite exciting. It's on one of those annoying PDF files, but worth checking out. Use it or lose it, folks!

Jane Lee's shop on Trafalgar Road

Angie asks:

I wonder if any of your readers know what has happened to this lovely individual shop. Are they closed for good or being "refurbished" as it said on the door.

The Phantom replies:

A very good question, Angie, and one I ask myself every time I walk by. All the stock is still inside and laid out - it honestly looks like it's just closed for a Sunday or something - but it has been like this for months. No closing down sale, no notices other than that it's closed for refurbishment - nothing. Ironic, really that it's supposedly closed for a refurb, since it's easily one of the smartest shops in the road. I can only assume illness or some personal crisis. Jane - if you're out there, what are you up to? Are you well? And when can we expect to be able to buy hand-made cards, curious gifts and glassware with goldfishes once more?

Laser Leanings

The Meridian laser from Greenwich power station

On Friday night, when I went down to check out that splendid ship near Lovell's Wharf, I realised that the best view was probably to be had from outside the Cutty Sark pub. Sadly, by the time I'd got there, the light was failing and the outline of the ship was fuzzy, but something else was all too clear...

At first I couldn't work out whether the fabulous laser that marks the Meridian Line had got a friend in Silvertown/Canary Wharf that met it somewhere over the Thames, but it didn't take too long to work out that actually it's just our beam, which now hits what looks like a new building on the other bank.

Presumably the workmen knock off before the laser gets switched on and nobody's noticed that one of the bedrooms/offices has its very own Unique Selling Point - that it is precisely in (Meridian) line with the Royal Observatory's laser-marker. No one's going to get much sleep in that room...

Being a Phantom of Very Little Brain, I can't help getting images of James Bond strapped to a chair with a laser beam slowly cutting between his legs (in an easily-escapable room while the ubervillain has left him to his fate in the hands of very stupid henchmen who have conveniently turned their backs on the whole thing.) Presumably the Observatory light is not of the evil movie-instrument-of-torture variety but it's still going to be Very Bright.

How are estate agents going to sell this apartment, I wonder? Clearly it will get points for being on the Meridian Line, so it's all very historic and cultural. But there must be some advantages of buying this particular flat...

• "Ideal for insomniacs!"
• "Zero lighting bills!"
• "Never lose your way home again!"
• "Be seen from outer-space!"
  

I guess they'll just make the Observatory tilt the angle (easier said than done when you're dealing with a fixed line and a light beam that goes for miles) despite the fact that they were there first. I'd be really fed up if they make them switch it off - it's a fantastic little feature.

Thank you to Andy and Anonymous who also noticed this.

Would you buy this apartment?

Gas Holder suggestions

A couple of days ago, I went to look at the new developments around Kings Cross. I noticed that they have a couple of gas holders that have been decommissioned. They are lucky enough to be listed (I still can't see why we can't do the same for ours - it's never too late - Sir John Betjeman saved St Pancras with just 10 days to go...) so the developers have been forced to be creative.

They have actually disassembled them at their current, inconvenient location, put them back together in another part of the development, and used them as a springboard for funky ideas. One has circular apartments with a public roof garden, the other has shops and more open spaces in it (if memory serves.)

If we are going to have to lose our gas holders in their original function ,wouldn't it be better to do something with them and keep them as part of our heritage than just do away with all the industrial history we have left?

Ideas here, folks. And, no, AndreKabu, you can't have a fifteen-storey stationery shop.

No. Strike that. Of course you can have one - just as long as there's a splendid bakery and sausagemongers at the bottom and a fabulous observation platform and cake dispensary at the top...

Developments at the Standard

Dan asks:

I live on the Standard and heard recently that there may be plans to re-design the area including doing something about the slip road between Westcombe Hill and Charlton Road?

Do you know of such plans?
If so, do you have any more details?

The Phantom replies:

I suspect you mean the argument that has been going on about that slipway between Old Dover Road and Charlton Road regarding access between the two. I believe it's by Hexagon Housing. I confess I found the reports in the WN very confusing and I'm really not sure what the hell is happening there. If someone would care to create a Blackheath Standard Development Proposals For Dummies (and Phantoms) I would be very grateful.

Iain Sinclair on The Bad Old Days

Seeing that bit of the Thames Path by Lovell's Wharf the other night when I was investigating the interesting ship reminded me that Graham sent me a link the other day which reminds us that it was not ten years ago that Greenwich was an almost impassable enclave - a place so close and yet so remote that only the most hardened of tourists visited. The bad old days before the Jubilee Line and the extension on the DLR when the only way to get here was by the foot tunnel or the overground.

Iain Sinclair was visiting the Dome just before it opened, back in 1999. His jaded eye makes me really sit up and realise that Greenwich has come a long way in just a very few years. Not all of it is good, but a lot is. We have regenerated - a bit - we just haven't noticed it happening.

Perhaps now is a good time to realise that we have a new problem - how to stop all this regeneration from throwing out the baby with the bathwater and leaving Greenwich with no character whatsoever...

Not quite the Cutty Sark...

...but great fun anyway. It's quite difficult to get up close to what may or may not be The Gotheburg, (I've been looking at pics and it doesn't look much like her to me but I can't think who else it is - the replica slave ship full of Teenagers Of The World is still in America, I believe) as bits of other ships/old metal/rubbish/corrugated iron get in the way, but it still makes quite a picture at sunset. I see what you mean about the creepy Dracula feel, Gwladys. Much of it is also to do with the way the Thames Path is so very claustrophobic at that point. Still, it gives us a nice old ship to look at while the Cutty Sark's in her undies...

Clocktower at Greenwich Borough Hall/GDA

Matthew asks:

I was in the park yesterday looking out at the view and wondered for the hundredth time how good the view must be from the top of the clocktower at the GDA, and also what a great venue for a party it would be…

The Phantom Replies:

I am sure, deep in my deep and distant memory, I have met someone who has been up there at some point, but I'm not convinced it's open to the public. I agree it must be one hell of a view and there are clearly some offfices/a glazed area at the top, not to mention the roof itself. I checked to see if it will be open this weekend for London Open House Day (hope you're all going to take advantage, especially of the buildings that aren't usually open) but it doesn't seem to be on the map. More research is needed...

Has anyone ever been up there?

Woolwich Road Post Office

Laura has just told me that the Post Office in Woolwich Road could well be closing in November due to - wait for it - lack of customers!

Can this be true?

I'm surprised - they've only just done it up and whenever I go in there it seems to be busy. In fact I've queued for some time in there before now, especially before the refurb. What's gone wrong? Where have all the customers gone? That will leave a significant chunk of East Greenwich without a Post Office at all - the nearest ones being some way up Trafalgar Road to the West, Blackheath Standard to the South, Canary Wharf to the North and, correct me if I'm wrong - Charlton to the East.

What has gone so very wrong? Is everyone using alternative delivery firms? I'm certainly not. Or did the people who took over the shop have unrealistic hopes of riches beyond the dreams of avarice?

More news on this one, please, folks...

Dracula Returns?

Gwladys has sent me a most intriguing thing:

Out for my riverside run at dusk last night I headed for the river path. There was an extraordinary sight at the boat repairers yard (near The Cutty Sark pub). They are currently working on a three masted galleon ( or some such sort of craft- I don't want to upset the pedants and purists). I don't know if it is there for filming purposes or indeed what they are up to with it. It certainly looks quite ghostly at night. Has Dracula sailed unobserved into our midst?

Gwladys - have you noticed any strange trails of earth or suspicious black dogs knocking around? How about very tall, rather pale-looking gentlemen in need of a little dental work? We're a long way from Whitby but...

I have no idea what this is - unless it's some kind of film set - or a very nice commission indeed for the boatyard - but I intend to find out. I'll try to get down there today to find out what's going on, and maybe some of you folk have some inside info but in the meanwhile, Gwladys, make sure you keep wearing that garlic necklace and start carrying a nice sharp stake with you on your nightly run.

Maybe it's a publicity stunt for the new project at Greenwich Picturehouse - a re-release of F W Murnau's Nosferatu (from 1922, if memory serves...) with a score by Darryn Harkness. I'm never too convinced by these new scores for old silents - Nosferatu and Metropolis seem to be the two that composers worry like a (little black) dog with a bone.

Nosferatu is definitely the creepiest of the Dracula movies - despite or perhaps because of the day-for-night camera work, the use of shadow and the understated violence. Max Schreck's portrayal of the count is truly scary - those spindly long fingers, those staring eyes and those two long front teeth gave me nightmares for months afterwards. Bet he didn't get too many young romantic lead roles after that one.

Do new scores always do much for old classics? I'm pretty sure that the way I saw it - in silence - was not how it would have originally have been shown. I can't believe that the jangly cinema piano would have done justice to the eerie atmosphere, either. But I've not always been convinced by the modern interpretations (I just turn the sound down on that Queen version of Metropolis. Never managed the Nosferatu at The Barbican.)

I guess the only way to find out if this version is any good will be to go along...

25th & 26th Sept, The Screening Room, Greenwich Picturehouse.

Emails

Thanks guys, for all your emails. It's always great to hear from you - whether it's compliments (the best) insults (yeah, I get a few) tips or questions.

Just recently, though, the Spam Mongers have been having a field day. They are determined that my "member" should be "so much greatly than civil," that I'm in need of "cheap meds" or, lonely Phantom as I am, that I need a Russian girlfriend.

I have a horrid feeling some real mail has been thrown out with the junk. If I haven't either replied to you personally or dealt with your issue on the blog(or both,) chances are I've accidentally deleted you, my spam filter assuming that you're trying to sell me a dodgy university degree. Please do contact me again - I'm not ignoring you, honest!

BTW isn't there some great spam out there at the moment? I'm collecting my faves together for a quiet day on the blog - some of it's almost like poetry. Well, ok, not quite...

Meeting House Misery

I thought I'd written about this - but it appears I hadn't.

I was miserable enough to find that The Meeting House had closed. But the warnings that one of you (Sorry - I can't remember which of you was the harbinger of doom) gave me that it was to be yet another Greenwich Inc eaterie is sadly all too true. Goodbye, wonderful platesful of good, simple food served both cheaply and pleasantly, hello - well - exactly the same stuff as you can get from anywhere else Greenwich Inc owns - which now includes all four corners of the market as well as the Meeting House. There aren't that many units left...

The builder standing outside with a coffee commiserated with me - he too will miss the old cafe - and told me that it will be a trendy coffee bar by day, a trendy wine bar by night.

Nuff said.

Elizabeth Woodville

1437(ish) - 1492

Family weddings - don't you love 'em. A few glasses of cheap bubbly, someone from the bride's side insults the groom's mother and all hell breaks loose. Bun-fights, punch-ups and the next thing you know someone's started the next round of the Wars of the Roses...

So there was young Margaret of Anjou, who, if you remember, had married Crazy Henry VI and had just done up her new pad at Greenwich in girly colours and pretty patterns. Life had got a bit scary after Jack Cade's rebellion so she'd decamped Ooop North and Round One of the Wars of the Roses had got underway.

Edward IV came to the throne in 1461 and was the complete opposite of Henry VI. He was the kind of squared-jawed burly-framed Hollywood Hunk that made women swoon - he was 6 foot 4 at a time when most people were about a foot shorter and his interests included hunting in Greenwich Park, gold-brocade outfits and knightly pursuits. I can just see those Disney-esque teeth gleam...

He married local girl Elizabeth Woodville (from Lee) probably for love, or at least lust, given her long black hair, her famed beauty and especially her lovely heavy-lidded eyes ("the eyes of a dragon", one chronicler tells us. The mind boggles.) Apparently her USP was her skill at fluttering her eyelashes.

It was all hush-hush - not least because Lizzy's first husband had been killed fighting for the Lancastrians - when Edward was the leader of the York contingent. When they found out, his advisers who'd had their eye on a nice political union with a French princess, were pretty fed up. Some even whispered that she'd bewitched him, a murmur that got rather louder when she bowled up to Westminster Abbey with some of her distant Luxembourgian relatives carrying shields with pagan goddesses painted on them and the whole thing had to be settled by fisticuffs.

Edward poo-pooed the lot of them and where the rest of us are lucky to get a toaster, he gave Lizzy Greenwich as a wedding present, including the tower and park. Nice work if you can get it.

They seem to have had a happyish life (considering that England was in turmoil and everyone hated everyone else) although he appears to have had a lot of mistresses, most of who also seem to have been called Elizabeth. I'm just glad Freud wasn't going to be around for 700-odd years.) Edward had lots of children by both his wife and others, at least two of whom you'll have come across - but we'll get to that.

Sadly Elizabeth's family were the original Sarf London chavs - they pushed themselves forward at every opportunity and won themselves no great favours at court. They made sure they married themselves into as many of the best families as possible (presumably wearing Burberry doublet-and-hose) and availed themselves of all the lucrative opportunities to shine, which many of the courtly toffs thought was dreadfully vulgar.

One splendid example of Early Bling was when one of Lizzy's rather obscure brothers-in-law died, they interred him at St Albans with a gigantic, very shiny and much larger brass plaque than even that of the Bishop. It all became very embarrassing, but all Edward really wanted was an easy life and he tended to turn a blind eye to it all.

It was at Greenwich that the ultimate Little Britain family wedding took place. Elizabeth's son by her first marriage was given the hand of Anne, an heiress, who had been promised to heavy-hitting York-supporter the Earl of Warwick who had been instrumental in bringing Edward to the throne and was naturally a bit pissed off at Edward's short memory. I am so glad I wasn't at that wedding - I imagine a surreal cross between an Alan Ayckbourn parlour drama, The Royle Family and a Quentin Tarantino shootemup. The slighted Earl of Warwick switched sides, withdrew to France and cooked up Round Two of the Wars of the Roses with New Best Friend Margaret of Anjou.

Meanwhile, back at Greenwich, it all got a bit nasty when Edward died. Elizabeth became, briefly, "Queen Mother," to her two little princes who were the heirs to the throne, but - and I'm sure you can see where this is going - enter, stage left, Hiss! Boo! panto villain, Uncle Richard.

I have no idea whether Richard III was actually as evil as he is painted - or, indeed, any more evil than anyone else at the time - there is a lot of revisionist history going on just now - but one thing seems sure. Richard found a priest who said that he had presided over Edward and Elizabeth's marriage and that since Edward was already promised to marry someone else, he had committed bigamy. Richard declared Dead Ed's marriage null and void, Lizzy was banished from court and the two princes disappeared.

In later life, after being brought back into favour and seeing her daughter married to the future Henry VI, Elizabeth was allowed back to court for a bit, before being packed off to a nunnery in Bermondsey for possibly being involved in a rebellion (all that's left now of Bermondsey Abbey is a rather sad-looking plaque on the wall of some council flats. You can see it if you travel into town on the 188 bus. ) She was nearly married to the young King of Scotland but he most inconveniently died, so the now-ageing ex-queen stayed in the convent, where she died too. She was given a no-frills funeral by her son-in-law King Henry VII which, as you can imagine, really offended her designer label-loving relatives.

But was she bovvered? I doubt it. Her daughter had just given birth to Henry VIII.

Favourite Front Gardens (4)

St Alfege's Guesthouse, 16, St Alfege's Passage SE10

I've been a bit of a grumpy old phantom of late so I thought I'd cheer myself up with a favourite front garden. This one's at St Alfege's Guesthouse, which still has to be the funkiest place to stay in Greenwich. One day I'll actually make it inside (so difficult to be a tourist in your own town...) but if the pics on the website and this garden are anything to go by, it must be cool indeed.

What I love about this place is that they 'officially' have no garden at all to speak of. The rest of the places in that particular bit of passage open out onto the street, but Number 16 has no intention whatsoever of being without greenery. A little area has been created using the natural street furniture - railings and the lamp post, a collection of giant pots and a tempting-looking bench.

Inside, there's not an inch of space between the plants - save for another, hidden little bench. Tropical - date palms and banana plants - and classic evergreens, they may be mixed in 'climate' but they do keep to a palette - just green - and very cool it is too. It's ever-so slightly jumbled and bohemian-looking with the odd weed tolerated rather than ripped out, which keeps it from looking prissy, and I enjoy it every time I walk past.

My heart gives a little leap whenever I'm staying somewhere in the