Foster's Cafe

10, Old Dover Road, SE3

Sodding Blogger is playing up again this morning, refusing to let me load photos, so I thought I'd fall back on a little cafe at the Blackheath Standard that I'm rather fond of.

Despite its name, Fosters is run by an Italian family (or at least it always has Italian staff when I'm in there and there are a selection of touristy plates on the wall with relief pictures of the Tower of Pisa. The Phantom is nothing if not observant...) It's not as funkliy retro as Gambardella round the corner - the walls are plain white with the woodwork picked out in a strange dusky-puce; the tables and chairs are in that varnished pine that was popular in the 70s and 80s, but I like it just as well as the last-decorated-in-the-50s Gambardella.

The guy who runs Fosters has a bit of the retro about him himself, kitted out in a little cotton cover-all dust jacket and, since the smoking ban, often to be seen taking a sneaky break outside, chatting to passers-by. He disapproves of my coffee choice. The ritual goes like this: I ask for an Americano; he purses his lips and looks at me with all the disgust he can muster at this abomination of the Italian language. He asks if I'm sure I really want it "weak and black." I say yes. He shuffles off with a pitying look for such a feeble Phantom.

It's worth the discussion though. It's good coffee, done with a proper espresso machine. The range of food is very definitely 'caff' - and it's usually very munchable. I am a bit of a fan of their 85p toasted teacakes, but the cooked stuff's good too. They also have a small range of Italian deli-type stuff - amaretto biscuits, pasta, the odd tin of anchovies etc for purchase as you leave.

Between this one and Gambardella? Not much in it. Depends on how much you like 1950s vintage decor, I guess...

Peninsula Pollution?

P and his mates down the pub have been putting on their conspiracy hats...

"I heard a rumour at the pub the other evening... when talk slid along (as it does) to cover various disjointed yet weighty topics, we entered a residential/environmental phase of the discussion. At which point, one of the group asserted that the B&Q on the Peninsula was having problems with pollution leaching up from underneath.

To support this, they referred to the slightly buckling pavement in front of it. This hardly speaks to a "nice" aspect of Greenwich... but I'm certainly interested to know if it's true or not. I wonder if this is something you might throw out to your wider readership to confirm/deny?"

The Phantom is largely unconvinced. Certainly it all sits on top of a load of ex-industrial nastiness and there is only a 'cap' on top of it, but I would really assume (or maybe I should say 'hope') that it's pretty thick (the peninsula doesn't seem to be any higher than anywhere else but it is build on marshland, so maybe it all evens out.) Those giant retail sheds can't have much in the way of foundations; I would have thought that the pollution just couldn't get through there.

I suspect the buckling of the pavement is just down to bad building - and very annoying it is too, if you're trying to push an already recalcitrant trolley along it. Blackheath Bugle went over just now to see what all the fuss is about and took some pics of the pavement, which Blogger won't let me upload. Grrr. BB asked in B&Q what was going on with the pavement:

"I asked the cashier about the paving outside, and he said that it was about to be renovated, but he didn't say why. It's not just B&Q -all the paving next to the shops there is wonky, and also the tarmacby the bus stops has warped leaving large puddles next to the seats."

Now, If you'd asked me about the high-rise flats I might be a tiny little more concerned. They must have to have quite deep foundations and I can't see that the 'cap' can be very thick underneath them. But I'm no engineer and my physics sucks. Maybe someone else here has more of a grasp than me (not hard...)

I wouldn't put it beyond being true. I have an engineer friend who was brought in as an expert on a project up north which was going to build houses on an ex-landfill site that had been landscaped. He refused to sign it off because he was concerned of methane leaks and shifting soil as stuff decomposed, and got sacked from the project. Another 'expert' was brought in to rubber-stamp it. If there is something nasty going on there, then I doubt anyone in charge is keen to advertise it, but in the case of B&Q at least, I think we're pretty safe.

Crossing Points Again

Pat's irritated by the new crossing points that seem to be sprouting up all over the east end of Greenwich. She says

"I mentioned recently the new crossing points on Woolwich Road and have since noticed more on the Charlton side of the tracks. I now see that they have sprouted what appears to be solar panels! Can this be right? I might be showing my lack of green credentials here but I would have thought that the amount of expenditure to create dropped pavements, build island structures and erect signage would far outway any benefit gained by a few small panels at any time in the near (or distant) future.

Or maybe someone can put me right and tell me they are disguised speed cameras or mobile phone masts, perhaps they are monitering for alien contact!"

I don't think that speed cameras are allowed to be disguised. I'm sure I remember the car lobby finding some way of not only getting them not disguised but actually making them obvious - which is why they all wear yellow jackets. Not sure how they wangled that one but I confess to using the loophole myself from time to time. All car drivers know where speed cameras are and adjust their driving accordingly. Frankly, in my humble, the only speed cameras that really work are those average-speed jobs - they're scary. Oh - and the cameras in the Limehouse link which mean that traffic crawls through it at 30 mph.

So no, I don't think that it's speed cameras, and the alien contact is out. We already have Glenister Green for that. So I have no idea what the solar panels are for. Do they have LED lights?

Hmm. The expense. I guess it comes out of the roads budget and I guess if it makes walking a bit safer so we have more pedestrians then it could be argued that getting people out of cars is saving the planet. It's a feeble guess, I know. Anyone got any other thoughts?

Underground Greenwich (7) Charlton House

I've been reading my Stone again and am delighted to say that underground tunnels seem to be everywhere round here, not just Greenwich and Blackheath.

Not that this one is particularly exciting - given the ancientness and grandness of Charlton House, I would have hoped for something better - but hey - an underground tunnel is an underground tunnel - and who knows - there may be more exciting ones yet to be discovered.

This one, apparently, runs from the house, under Inigo Jones's arch, across the road and out towards the flats. It's about five feet high, and is 'oval.' John Stone actually went down it about 100 years ago - he reckons it runs "about 100 yards."

Although it's pretty big - and certainly could be used for clandestine rendezvous, the locking up of innocent maidens, smugglers' loot and the hiding of nobles in the civil war, etc, the truth, sadly, is much more prosaic - it was just a conduit, taking the water away from Charlton House down the hill. Apparently it still has the house drain in it.

I don't think it's get-in-able any more and I can't find any other reference to it. A shame, really. Maybe one of the Friends of Charlton House can furnish me with some more info...

Phantom Favourite Front Gardens (8)

Trinity Grove, SE10

We haven't had a fave front garden for ages - mainly because nobody's place looks much cop in the winter months, but now the sun is beginning to peep shyly from behind the black clouds, The Phantom is once again on the rove, looking for things to delight a jaded eye...

Trinity Grove is less a favourite front garden than a favourite front street of mine. This is clearly a road whose residents not only adore living there, but actually like living with each other. Virtually every house has something outside it - a pot, a window box, a tub, a trough. And what's so great about it is that this is despite not one of those little houses actually having a front garden to decorate.

Perhaps it's the very narrowness of the street (cars could go down it, and it has yellow lines that imply that they do - but it really isn't wide enough), perhaps it's the fact that there's only a handful of the tiny Georgian/early Victorian terraces left clinging to the rock of West Greenwich's extraordinary topography, the rest having been cleared for flats further down the hill, that promotes the impression I get that this street really is a little self-contained neighbourhood.

If you walk round the back of the western ones, their back gardens just drop away down Greenwich's equivalent of Cheddar Gorge (we are, after all, in Maidenstone Hill/ Blackheath Cavern territory here) so the front gardens take on an even more important aspect as outdoor spaces. I imagine neighbours sitting out here together with a glass of wine or a giant bowl of rich pasta of a summer evening, gathred around the bench by the little street goddess on the corner, chewing the fat, gossiping about the antics of the Big Town far away down the hill.

And my absolute favourite bit? This old claw-and-ball-foot bath, filled to the brim with whatever's in season and surrounded by honesuckle. It's not quite up to speed yet, but visit it in the summer and you'll be enchanted.

I've wanted to feature Trinity Grove for ages, but because it's such a narrow street and because I'm such a rubbish photographer, I was totally unable to get any kind of pic that did it justice. Happily Benedict has come to my rescue with these fabbo shots.

More Fave Front Gardens to come, but in the meanwhile I'd say Trinity Grove really merits a walk one warm summer evening. Enjoy...

Treasures of Tudor England

The Sixteen, Royal Naval Chapel, last night (sorry...)

It's officially called the 2008 "Choral Pilgrimage," but I couldn't bring myself to use a title that square on one of my posts. Why do classical artists have to continually shoot themselves in the foot by being so bloomin' po-faced all the time? I guess it's worse the other way - Nigel Kennedy with his 'punk' hairdo; a bunch of girls singing opera having to call themselves 'babes' to get gigs, but surely there's some kind of middle ground where classical music (and early classical music at that) can be cool.

Not that this was going to bother The Sixteen - arguably the country's best adult choral group just now. The place was heaving - clearly sold out, despite top-whack tickets shifting for thirty five quid a pop. And it wasn't all old crusties either, there were people of all ages (I'm guessing the proximity of Trinity College had something to do with it) so probably I'm the only person who thought the title cringe-making.

I'd been desperate to go to this concert since I read about it in the ORNC listings (pick yourself up a leaflet in the Visitor Centre - it's not all face-painting for the under-fives.) Quite apart from the facts that I love early music, and that I love choral music and that The Sixteen are so very well-respected, it was the setting as much as anything that I liked the idea of. After all, short of performing in the ORNC car park (directly on top of Henry VII's chapel) they couldn't get much closer to the probable original setting for this gorgeous, home-grown sacred music. This stuff needs to be heard somewhere with a big acoustic; with high ceilings and wides aisles, somewhere you can feast your eyes as well as your ears during the event, so the car park was out, but the Naval Chapel was perfect.

I'd heard there was going to be a talk before the event and I rather hoped it would be a tying-in of the concert with Greenwich's past as a Tudor palace - considering we were sitting on top of it and all. It wasn't - it was the choir's two second basses who did a sort of classical equivalent of "the making of..." which worked rather well. They seemed relaxed and cheery, not too stiff, 'interviewing' each other - "So, what's your favourite moment in the second movement, then, George?" - and they told us good bits to look out for, which for a Phantom who hadn't actually heard of any of the three composers (for the classicists among you, Parsons, White and Tye) was very useful. Clearly the cheeky boys of the choir, they were fun to look out for later (in the very few moments I wasn't totally transported to somewhere that may or may not have been the Tudor idea of heaven.)

What can I say? It was sublime. Of course you've got to be into that twisty-turny, mellifluous sound that the Tudors liked so much (think Spem in Alium in miniature.) The music washes over rather than confronts and little patterns and motifs are repeated in different voices, resounding through the Naval Chapel and my phantsmagorical mind.

I sat back and looked at that fabulous ceiling (hence the pic, taken by Stevie, clearly lying on his back, though not actually during the concert, of course. A bit anachronistic, but the only bit of Tudor Greenwich that's left is either the undercroft or the water-house-thingy at the vicarage and neither of them seemed quite right) and allowed the music to filter through me. I knew none of it, yet it was all somehow familiar. Perhaps it was the fact that most of it was in the only bits of Latin I know.

The Sixteen are Discipline personified (though there was just the faintest glimmer of a smirk on their faces as they arrived back on stage after the interval. What do early musicians make jokes about? Rommelpot players, presumably...) Their timing is exquisite, their voices, ditto. A pal of mine who's in that world tells me the group's fiendishly difficult to get into, and I could tell that. Each of them was clearly hand-picked (even if some of their tailcoats weren't...) Of course I'd have like to see them all dressed in the original kit, but I guess they'd consider that to be play-acting or not taking the material seriously. A shame. I like a nice ruff as much as the next phantom.

Of course this was just a one-off, but given that the place was packed, I suspect they'll be back. Keep an eye out in the programme, and don't be put off by the name 'Choral Pilgrimage.' In the meanwhile, you could always reproduce the effect by buying a CD ,sticking it on your walkman and pacing around the chapel, looking up at the ceiling. Or, even lazier, just look really closely at Stevie's pic on the screen...

Bugger Blogger

Folks - can you see this? I'm having some problems with Blogger - it's not uploading pics and sundry people have complained they can't see the front page at all. Would someone drop me a line to let me know if I'm actually writing for any reason whatsoever here?

Top Tips

I notice that the Government is just about to launch a review into the way that restaurants handle tipping to waiting staff. It ranges from the mildly cross-making Pizza Express keeping 8% for administration charges (to which I say sort-of fair enough) to the boycott-inducing Carluccios who keep all the gratuities to top up the minimum wage - which is frankly disgraceful. In between these companies there are all sorts of versions - some of which, I am sure, actually allow the waiters to keep their tips.

I have long asked in every restaurant I eat in what their policy for tipping is - and usually end up sending the bill back with a request to remove the 'service charge' from the bill, to pay in cash. But even this could be futile.

According to the BBC Website not even paying cash tips helps ensure it goes to the people who have served you and added service charges sometimes go nowhere near the staff at all in some cases. Now there is the system where the tips are shared by the whole kitchen - which is another issue - but even so, some restaurant owners divvy it up and include themselves in the share-out.

So I think it's about time we named and shamed in Greenwich. I'll start.

Greenwich Inc. I got so fed up with the staff telling me that they never saw their tips that I called a manager over one day and asked him to explain. He told me that it went towards a company incentive scheme, whatever that is.

Now excuse me - but I am not here to subsidise Greenwich Inc for trying to bribe their staff to arrive on time, help with the washing up, stay late to sweep the floors etc. I am paying a tip to a particular person who has given me good service. Swiping my money to use for another purpose is not acceptable.

Of course it's more acceptable that making up the already pathetic minimum wage with tips a la Carluccios (yes I am still banging on about him...) but it's still extremely poor.

BUT - and this is a big but. I don't believe that Greenwich Inc are in any way lone villains here. And I want you lot to help me out.

When you go into a restaurant in Greenwich, I want you to ask the staff what happens to your tips - preferably a) those included in the bill as service charges, b) those that you add on as part of your credit card payment if you don't have any cash on you and c) cash tips.

Then report back here. And folks - do sign up to hear updates on the comments. We need to work on this together. To find out which eateries need to be avoided from now on (thank God we don't have a Carluccios - and he seemed such a nice, roly-poly sort of man, too...) those we need to give cash at, those we can safely tip within the service charge or a credit card option - and those lovely restarants/cafes who actually give a damn about their staff. I especially want to know about them. This should be a positive, not a negative thing.

By the way. Legend has it that the word "tip" comes from an acronym "To Insure Promptness." Maybe that's why some of our service is so damn slow...

Greenwich Pier

I'm having a grumpy time with Blogger this morning; it's refusing to upload any pictures - and I have some great ones for you. So I'm writing a equally grumpy post about something Dazza's brought to my attention.

Let's create a context for this. We have a World Heritage Site here, that people get so sensitive about that they moan when someone wants to place Ferris wheel in the grounds of the ORNC for a few months in the summer. A world heritage site based on the area's history.

Arguably the most important part of a WHS is the way people first see it. And for many - the romantics among our visitors - that's the view as they arrive by boat.

Now. We're all agreed that what we currently have is a mess. And a bloomin' confusing mess at that - trying to work out where to get a boat from must be a minefield for a visitor (well- it certainly was for a Phantom.) A once-grand pier (I would show you a pic if I could upload any) has deteriorated to a building site. But let's just look at what Greenwich's powers-that-be have got Conran & Partners to design for us - click here to see it.

Is this the finished product? Is this what we're getting? Are they proud of that?

Conran boasts:

"Over the past 20 years our buildings have made a significant difference to their surroundings."

They fail to mention whether this difference is actually a positive one or just a 'difference' in the same way that we use 'interesting' to describe First Base's plans for The Heart of East Greenwich. So will it make a 'significant difference' to Greenwich? You're darn tootin'.

It's apparently based on traditional "palette" of boat-building materials - copper, glass and wood - but to me it looks more like a bunch of the rusty old containers that clutter boat yards today.

Copper? Copper? I'm a big fan of copper - it keeps the slugs off my hostas - but apart from the sheer cost of the stuff these days pushing this project into overspend-freefall, large areas of copper weather really badly. They patinate to a mellow bluey-green, yes, but that's after long years of streaky browny-green gunk, though at least we could plant some giant hostas around it to cover it up in the meanwhile. Do architects never think about what will happen to their projects in ten year's time? Presumably not - they just move onto the next cash cow.

And the language:

"The amorphous shape of the buildings is moulded between these view axes." What the bloody hell does that mean? "Three new pavillions..." What do YOU think of when the word 'Pavillion' is bandied about? I'll wager it's not this.

Now I'm not suggesting we go for some dreadful faux-Victorian pastiche (even though we have a REAL Victorian waiting room there that is considered 'too old' to renovate - so we're sending it to the West Indies where - wait for it - they'll be renovating it) but please - can't we have something that doesn't look like a giant brown cardboard box? Modern architecture doesn't have to be awful - there's some great stuff around. It's just not in Greenwich (though I confess to being a bit of a fan of Will Alsop's (thanks Deb) stingray-shaped tube station on the Peninsula.)

Some might argue that I haven't studied the plans - I don't seem to be able to find any more to look at. But this is Impact Architecture. It's to be viewed from a distance, like Sir Christopher Wren's iconic Hospital. Indeed alongside Wren's masterpiece. And in my opinion it just doesn't hold up as a vista - as a building to be enjoyed by The World as part of its Heritage.

Thanks Dazza, for sending me the link - but you just depressed the hell out of me.

New Restaurant on the Thames

Chris asks:

"I live at Anchor Iron Wharf next to the old Power Station and was wondering is you can give me an update on what is the happening the glass fronted restaurant owned by Frank Dowling, I believe it is going to be called the viewpoint bar, local intelligence suggests it was meant to be open in Jan of this year, but as you are probably fully aware it has remained an empty shell ever since I moved in as the first resident over 5 years ago."

The Phantom replies:

Curiously (and sadly, too - I think they could do with all the PR they can get and, contrary to popular belief, I am not totally anti-Inc) I am not part of Greenwich Inc's network of marketing contacts so I guess I have about as much idea as you about what's going on there, Chris. I certainly don't think it would be a disaster - after all, it's an empty space just now; they're not taking over someone else's place and it would be good to get something in there (I'm curious about that bit of land in front, btw - is it really theirs to slap a 'private' sign on, or has it been appropriated? I think we should be told.) I think it's somewhere that could be quite good, if they get it right.

I don't, incidentally, think the Cutty Sark pub is in any danger - it has a loyal clientele and any new place would attract its own custom.

Certainly at the moment there seems to be a big fat zero on the activity meter at - what did you call it - the Viewpoint Bar. I would hope that something will happen soon - either that or that they get off the pot...

The London Area WebRing
Power By Ringsurf

Inline Woes

A red-faced Nigel has raised the issue of rollerblading in Greenwich Park:

"I have just walked back from Greenwich park after being told by the local plod, that Roller Blading was 'banned in the park'. I asked since when; he replied 'Since forever, we have been told that any offenders must be reported.' WOW!

He didn't report me as I believe he felt a bit stupid telling me, but that's it, all the kids, families who bought their shiny blades have nowhere to go. Unless you can suggest somewhere?"

The Phantom replies:

You know I've always had a sneaking desire to have a go at rollerblading. I haven't, of course, having a) no sense of balance b) no sense of co-ordination c) no level of personal fitness, but all the same it looks fun.

I can understand why they don't want people bombing around Greenwich Park (especially people like me - I really would be a danger to myself and others) but it does seem a shame that there isn't anywhere to play safely.

The Thames Path would be one option - though please - not the bit outside the Royal Naval College - I'm always being buffeted by cyclists who insist on ploughing their bikes through the people walking there when it's only five foot wide, and rollerblades would just make it worse. That really narrow bit's only about 100 metres long for heaven's sake - can't they just walk that little distance? The rest is fine - I cycle myself there - but that tiny path's crazy.

For the moment, I reckon that the Peninsula has wide enough paths and few enough people for you to be able to work up a bit of speed without too many problems.

I've always thought that that bit under the Woolwich Road Flyover could be adapted to make a skateboard park - though the fumes would, naturally, hasten an early death for the participants.

Any other suggestions?

Black Plumes and Clattering Cobbles

Shannon says:

"At about 12:30 today along college approach I saw a very fancy horse drawn carriage go by with two very fine black horses prancing quickly; each had a huge black feather/plume on its head and silver bridles; two men driving the carriage also very nicely dressed; the small carriage was black and had a coffin it it and then a small box at the back of the carriage; the carriage itself was all enclosed with glass so you could see inside; 3 or so black herses follwed it......all going quite fast...... any ideas what this was about?"

The Phantom replies:

Sounds like a good old fashioned Sarf-East London funeral to me. There are a couple of undertakers who still keep all that clobber for people who like that kind of thing. I tend to think 'gangsters' when I see them, though I'm sure that ordinary folk do it too. It's not so long ago that saving up for a grand funeral was a major deal, and there are still people who set a lot of store by it. There will no doubt be a serious knees-up later in a traditional English pub with all the whelks and jellied eels you can eat, guv. Not my bag - but each to his own. We all have our own way of dealing with death.

Underground Greenwich (7) - An 18th Century Spat

Right folks. Today, I am going to whisk you back to the Age of Elegance. To the days when gentlemen wear periwigs, breeches and velvet frock coats, ladies titter behind their fans and the harpsichord rocks.

But underneath all that face paint, pox-patch and wig-powder, all is not well within Greenwich's upper echelons. Or maybe I should say 'lower...'

Much lower. Because once again Blackheath Cavern is causing a furore.

It is, as always, all down to cash - the usual playground arguments over who gets to mine the (frankly sub-standard - Sir Christopher Wren won't touch the stuff) chalk from the cave. For even if Sir Chris is being fussy, there are plenty of developers who aren't - London's still being rebuilt after the Great Fire and there's always going to be someone who doesn't mind buying cheap chalk.

The Steers family is mining that chalk - and has been for years. Bill Steers and his old mum are fined regularly for undermining the King's Highway or failing to support their extensive tunnels but they are mere pawns. There are bigger hitters in the chalk game and they are soon to come to blows...

Firstly, there's The Crown - Lord of the Manor of East Greenwich - who, despite there not actually having been a monarch-in-residence for, ahem, some years, still owns much of the town and claims that the chalk being dug out of Maidenstone Hill is effectively waste from Royal land.

Limbering-up for a good ol' punch-up, though, are the new (ish) boys on the block, the Trustees of Morden College, Lords of the Manor of "Old Court." The Trust has also busily bought-up land around Greenwich and is playing the "good causes" card. They, of course, argue that the lime is waste from their land, their having gained dispensation from "the Queen" (Which Queen? Don't ask me...)

The Crown points out that Old Court isn't actually a manor at all - and as such it can have no waste. By the mid 18th century, they're getting nowhere and it all gets handed over to The Lawyers.

Now, there's nothing particularly unusual about a lands-right fracas, but what amuses me, as I read John Stone's 1914 lecture notes, is the surreal direction the whole argument then takes.

Let's get in The Tardis (bagsy not be Donna...) and set the dial to - oh, I don't know - about 1750.

Scribbling furiously at his Chippendale desk, lit by a single tallow candle, sits Mr Brand, Treasurer and Principle Agent of Morden College. (I wonder if, in years to come, Brand Street will be named for him in thanks for Pedantry Beyond The Call Of Duty?) His quill is a blur of feather and ink as he scratches a letter to his opposite number. He talks about the Steers family's discovery and exploitation of the mines - implying that they are working for Morden College. So far, so good.

But then he takes an interesting tangent. He goes on to talk about the workings from the point of view of people from the future. He says:

"...an accidental discovery of them two or three centuries hence, when the occasion of them is forgot may supply curious matter of speculation for the antiquarians."

Ok - so it's a bit oblique, but frankly, that sentence is just a phrase - it means nothing. If I had been Mr Roberts, the Crown's Chief Steward, reading that missive over a morning cuppa in the local Coffee House, a copy of Lloyd's List beckoning and half a dozen coddled quails' eggs going cold in the dish, I wouldn't have thought anything of it.

But no. He takes great exception to it - clearly realising Mr Brand is implying future generations will think Morden College morally superior to The Crown. So he too grabs his quill and gets straight to the point:

"In 1699 you encroached on another part of it and therewith granted, as you say, the very entrails of the hill, the loam, gravel, chalk and sand, which was dug in subterranean caverns under the very summit of it, the discovery whereof, as you very prettily observe, if accidentally made two or three centuries hence, would supply curious matter of speculation for the antiquarians."

These guys are arguing over what WE will think of them. Not who's in the right in their own time, but what Posterity will say. Am I reading too much into this or is that just weird? Mr Roberts is truly riled over the issue. He continues:

"However this ingenious letter, if it should happen to outlive the common fate of things of this sort, will set those inquisitions into antiquity to right."

He neatly brings his argument back on course:

" The misfortune of it will be that if this letter and certificate live to rectify the antiquarians of future times, which it is very likely with this dispute between the Crown and the Trustees it may do, it will show that Mr Brand had too little regard to antiquity, who in looking into the title his clients had to this hill and to the subterranean caverns under it, looked only into the two Queen's grants and their own, without going so far back into antiquity as the grants to Eldred and Whitmore etc."

So. We're back to history again. Their history - that will tell them who has owned the land before them. Something concrete over which they can argue.

But what I love about this little flurry is that it shows something I haven't seen up until that correspondence - an awareness or, indeed, interest in what is to come.

Most writings I have ever seen about - well - pretty much anything before this, are concerned only with the day. With people's own times. They are too busy living their lives to have any interest in things other than their immediate future. But these letters deal with something more - the idea of what will happen two or three hundred years ahead of them.

The way I see it is that this is more than an argument over land - to me, it's a sign that concepts of The Enlightenment were beginning to pervade Society at all levels - even to prosaic areas such as land rights. With the coming of things such as travel (for the wealthy, obviously) The Grand Tour and questions about religion, philosophy and scientific experimentation; with discoveries of everything from Pompeii to sundry diggings in Greenwich Park, has come the birth of Antiquarianism, and with that an awareness of one's own place in history. These men are not content to have the matter dealt with for their own time. For them it's important to be seen by Posterity as having been morally in the right.

Ooops - sorry. I seem to have had a bit of a Melvyn Bragg moment there. Better go and have a sit down and a nice cup of that marvellous new invention, chocolate...

The Phantom Cheers Up

Grumpy Old Phantom has been going through the fantastic photographs you've sent me this afternoon instead of doing Proper Work (naughty me) and came across this. It sort of follows in the same vein as the sign we discussed over the weekend and it made me laugh. You may have to click on it to really enjoy it to the full.



I think the ultimate Scary Neighbour who penned this is in Pelton Road (am I right, B?) Whatever. The Phantom is smiling again...

A Note On Photo Use

Folks - I just want to point out a little thing about pictures on this site.

Most of the photos (well, the rubbish ones, really) on this blog are by me. But I also get sent pictures by lots of different readers, who send them in good faith. Good faith that they are sent to ME for use HERE.

I don't hold copyright to these pictures - it's retained by the original photographers. It's always easy to see if I'm using someone else's work because I credit them every time, usually in the body of the piece because of the weird way that Blogger formats photos.

If there's a picture I'VE taken on the blog, you are welcome to use it (I'd appreciate a credit but it's not essential.) Go ahead.

But I CANNOT give permission to use any picture taken by someone else that appears here. Please contact me if you want to use someone else's photographs and I will put you in touch with them. Don't just nick the picture. It's bad manners.

Blimey. I'm a grumpy old Phantom today. So in order to cheer myself up I've been going through said photos and have found this one apropos to nothing, from Benedict, showing the Amazing Harrier Jump Jet Crows of Blackheath.

Cue renditions of When I See An Elephant Fly...

Coffee Cellar's Demise?

Anne has pointed out something worrying about the Coffee Cellar:

"I went past today and its no longer there - theres plastic sheeting in the windows and it seems my favourite little piece of Greenwich has gone! Its been shut for the last 2 weeks - the weekend before that the guy who runs it was telling me he was going to have to go into hospital and I'm a bit worried and thought you might know!"

The Phantom replies:

To my great shame, I've hardly been around for the past few weeks and I've clearly been taking my eye off the ball. Rumours have been abounding about the poor guy's health for some time. I had hoped he was getting better. I'm sorry to hear this. Perhaps he's finally retired. I will miss the place.

I guess it's possible it's just being spruced up - but in a way that would sadden me even more. What I love about this place is its shabby, atmospheric 1960s/70s interior, with that fantastic orange mosaic cubby hole at the back and the hip, funky gloom the place exudes. It's a place to cocoon yourself, on a rainy day, when your boyfriend's gone off with your best mate and the dancette's at the mender's. A place to pore over Lambretta maintance manuals with the lads or giggle with your girlfriends about Twiggy's new haircut.

To lose that atmosphere would be to lose something fundamental about the very coffee itself, let alone the cafe. After all, we can buy coffee anywhere (though decent coffee is somewhat harder to find.) What I really love is finding somewhere that gives me that extra something - that je ne sais quoi that feeds the soul as well as the body. If the Coffee Cellar's gone, it will be a sad day indeed.

The Gift, Not The Giver...

Dave from Winnipeg has a fabulous question about General Wolfe's statue that must win the prize for specificity. I have absolutely no answer to this, but something tells me that one of you might...

Dave asks:

"Concerning the statue of General Wolfe. I believe the inscription on the plinth (describing the gift of the statue to Britain - TGP) was changed from "people of Quebec" to "people of Canada" sometime in the last twenty years."

Dave's trying to find an old photo taken from the rear that would bear this out. If any of you fancy shuffling through a few shoeboxes of old pics, he'd be mighty grateful.

While we're on the subject, I have always been slightly puzzled as to why the people of Quebec - or Canada - would want to give a statue of the man who whooped 'em 200 years ago to the country that invaded them. Maybe someone could enlighten me on that one, too...

Call Box of Shame

I was just about to write about this neglected little corner of Westcombe Park - and what a sad little area it was, when Serendipity sent me a mail from Methers, who at least made me giggle - even if really it's no laughing matter...

This little nook - on the corner of Dinsdale Road and Vanbrugh Hill - should be lovely. It's sheltered, there's a sweet little bench and a phone box there. It should have an air of bucolic charm, half way up what has to be one of the steepest hills in Greenwich (and let's face it, we have a few to choose from) - an opportunity to take a break and catch your breath while looking out over London. What it actually is amounts to Tag City - a mess of inarticulate daub; a scream of frustration from a voice that has realised it has nothing to say.

I'm not totally against street art - at its best it has a dynamism and visceral quality that lends it a power and gives its purveyors a means of communicating through a vibrant artistic medium. But this - this has nothing. No merit, no power, and worse - no hope.

The people that create this have no vision of their lives as anything more to look forward to than the fumes they can breathe from their marker pens. For a few short seconds while they're wielding a spray can, they can feel they have a purpose before sinking back into the anger that will prevent them from becoming anything.

"Look, World. I am skilled enough to take a cap off a pen and point it at a stationary object. I am dextrous enough to make a mark. Respect me."

And what for the rest of us? To get angry ourselves? Or to get even? How about a bit of both? Methers sent me this photo - with a most convincing 'notice' from Greenwich Council:

Let's take a closer look, eh...

Methers notes "who ever made the sticker made a very professional job of it. The colour, the typeface, everything looks authentic. It couldn't be a strange attempt by the council to try to put the taggers off, could it?"

Who can tell. But I can't help thinking that he has a point when he continues

"I know someone would probably be upset by this, but I do think of asking BT to take the phonebox away. There's another one just down the hill for anyone who needs one, and it just seems to attract graffiti and vandalism. Am I being an old misery? Could we make it a lovelier spot, with another bench and some nice plants?"

Excellent idea. Any volunteers?

St Alfege's Church Tower...

...in a parallel universe. An alternative world where, during the building of an alternative Nicholas Hawksmoor church in an alternative Greenwich, the cash didn't run out when they got to the roof.

It goes like this. The magnificent St Alfeges - the church of the Tudor Court, of Thomas Tallis, of Samuel Pepys, gradually fell to pieces when Royalty abandoned Greenwich and though it was occasionally patched up, it finally got so bad that on one particular dark and stormy night in 1710 the nave fell in.

Greenwich by now was quite poor and the parishioners petitioned for some of the Coal Tax, which they'd been paying for the past 40 years to pay for the rebuilding of St Pauls Cathedral after the Great Fire, to be given to them for a new church. They got their way - but the act passed in 1711 for fifty new London churches underestimated the cost of a large government building project (sound familiar?)

Certainly there wasn't enough in the coffers for St Alfeges to have Nicholas Hawksmoor's designs built exactly as he wanted them. The governors took the plans for the main, classical-style building but, after shaking the parish piggy bank as hard as they could, sent the tower/steeple plans back.

Hawksmoor stuffed the tower plans back in his pocket, shrugged and went on to the next project. In a spot of masterly architectural recycling, when he got the commission for St George's In The East, he dusted off the plans for St Alfege's, added and subtracted a few bits and bobs and passed them off as brand new. So it could be said that the splendid Shadwell church has Greenwich's cast-off tower. Or, more depressingly, that The East End could afford a steeple when we could only press snotty noses against the glass of Hawksmoor's shop window.

Whichever, we did finally get a tower - in 1730, designed by John James. I have heard sniffy comments made about this one being too 'fancy' for Hawksmoor's austere building, but me, I think it looks just fine. And it's got a clock, so yah-boo-sucks. We all know what it looks like, so instead of a straight photo, here's Theatre of Wine's glorious version created for last year's Advent Windows:


St George's has a chequered history, especially in the 1850s when a rector introduced 'Romish practices' and demonstrations ensued - men with barking dogs marched into church wearing hats and smoking pipes and chucked rubbish at the altar to the sound of catcalls and horn-blowing and much Unpleasantness ensued.

Both churches came off badly in WWII. I'll come to St Alfege's another day, but poor old St George's was so damaged that only the outside (a curious, slightly Italianate but nevertheless very London building) is left - inside, a post-war version squats unobtrusively behind its white stone walls.

It was a nice day yesterday so I took a little trip to see it. It's on the south end of Cannon Street Road, about five minute's walk from Shadwell DLR and it's got a little park around it. If you do the same, it's worth wandering around the area to see the remaining buildings around Cable St (and the fabulous Wilton's Music Hall.)

New Kid On The Blog

Well - not quite - or not mine at least. But there is a new local blog that I will be perusing eagerly - that of Greenwich Industrial History Society, born today.

Find it here.

Change of Guv'nor at the Rose & Crown

P&D tells me that Richard, the manager of the Rose & Crown is leaving - "to join the boys in blue." I hope that whoever replaces him will be able to keep the R&C's atmosphere that happily merges both a gay and straight clientele - something that isn't always easy to do. Richard's leaving do is on 26th April - and, typically, all are welcome.

Tunnel Closure?

Pat asks:

Someone was telling me recently that they had heard that the north bound Blackwall Tunnel was due to be closed for a period of months for refurbishment.And they thought that it was a 24/7 closure rather than the odd bit of weekend work.I have searched and can find no info. on this but I have a niggling feeling that I had heard mention of this a year or so ago and was wondering if you had any information.

The Phantom replies:

I'd be very surprised if there was to be any major closure in the near future given the Northbound tunnel's only just re-opened after refurbishment, but I wouldn't put anything beyond TfL. I'd really hope they would publicise something as major as this - and I certainly haven't heard anything like it. I'm sure Tunnelbore would have talked about it at length.

So - fingers crossed, a tentative "I really don't think so." Anyone know anything more?

Victorian Unpleasantness

The whole subject of London's First Railway (from London Bridge to Greenwich) is so huge and so beset with be-anoraked enthusiasts who will jump on me at the drop of a rivet that I confess I've skirted around the issue so far. I will, one day, get round to the fun and games around its birth, but for now, I'm content to enjoy a newspaper article I've found which is so wonderfully outraged that it puts us to shame today...

The London - Greenwich railway opened in 1836 and was an instant hit. It was especially popular on Bank Holidays when Greenwich Park became a riotous, joyous mayhem for thousands of cockney daytrippers, but the railway men had already had their beady eyes on expansion out into Kent for some time.

As far back as February that year, The Greenwich Gazette had been utterly fuming about the idea of an extension to Gravesend "cutting up of three great towns in order to effect a clumsy passage to a water-side place not half the size of either of them." It was, the paper blustered, "so preposterous a suggestion that none but a madman could have engendered it."

The paper couldn't decide which way it would hate the new railway to sear through Greenwich most. The good burghers of Greenwich certainly detested the idea of it going underground - "so that the passers along The Broadway, London Street, Nelson Street and Powis Street should be just upon a level with the tops of the houses." At this point, with hindsight, one begins to think that Dr Burney, the heroic instigator of the revolt, may just have been one of "those whose prosperity would be deeply affected by the passing of this outrageous measure." And indeed the feature goes on to moan that "the persons by whom this extravagant undertaking is proposed are evidently of that class who care not whose house is on fire so that they may roast their own eggs." It rages on:

"What female of any delicacy could venture into her own garden when she would know that doing so she would expose herself to the vulgar gaze and brutal ribaldry of a set of idle vagabonds enjoying their sixpenny ride?"

So. A class thing, then.

Well, not totally. I had to read a good half way down the article to get to the real problem. And to realise that we actually owe a vote of thanks to these proto-NIMBYS. We eventually get to the nub of the plan about 400 words-in, long after the outrage at the loss of back gardens.

What the developers actually wanted was an overground railway (the cheapest version, of course) - slicing right through Greenwich Park. The idea was that the area roughly around Romney Road should have a giant faux-classical bridge-type thing, with arches taking the railway directly through the middle, raised high above ground. There was a serious chance that "the authorities of the Admiralty will so betray their trust as to suffer that which indefeasibly belongs to the public to be taken away by a set of private speculators."

I find it difficult to imagine this alternative Greenwich. A place without, possibly, The Queen's House (I can't find out whether or not it was planned to demolish it) and with a massive railway viaduct going right through between Greenwich Park and the Old Royal Naval College.

The objectors threw everything they could at it. Destruction of the park, offence to pensioners, smog, loss of the naval school, nasty poor people leering out of windows brandishing buckets and spades, the vibration of the earth by heavy steam engines wobbling telescopes and "endangering experimental science, which would be looked upon in no other light than a national sacrifice."

In a strident call-to-arms, The Gazette suggests likely local people who would be good to get on board to defeat the Act in Parliament. This was war. The paper stops short of advocating violence, but says, and then repeats in capitals "THERE IS NO POSSIBLE MEANS OF COUNTERACTION THAN IN BRINGING DOWN MEMBERS ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE QUESTION."

Doctor Burney, with his "unsullied honesty of heart" appears to be the Wat Tyler (or perhaps the Jack Cade) of the railway but the piece ends on an ominous note. It took me a moment to realise that the entire article talks about him in the past tense, and it is in the penultimate sentence that I begin to realise why the feature is written with such venom. The Gazette darkly intones:

"Now, for the Doctor - but no: we will leave him till next week. He is deserving of a separate article.

It is sufficient at present to state that Doctor Burney has withdrawn his opposition, ' in consequence of the very liberal offer made to him by the Directors.' So it turns out that the Doctor, like those whose virtue is to be had at so much a yard, has only been writing for a larger mess of pottage - FOR AN INCREASE OF THE THIRTY PIECES OF SILVER."

Blimey. I now HAVE to find out more about this guy. My search is on for the next Gazette feature. They just don't write 'em like that any more. In the meanwhile. I wonder. Is he anything to do with Burney Street? Could he have sold-out his neighbours in exchange for literal street-cred?

The good news is that, with or without their fallen hero, the protesters won, forcing the railway to tunnel underground through the ancient part of Greenwich. But that's for another day...

Why This One?

No - it's not a scene from some ex-Soviet suburb. It's the only one of those blocks of flats at Maze Hill that's been spared in the demolition-fest that's been going on for some time. They whipped the others down in a matter of weeks, but this one's stayed. Does anyone know why? Who did this block sleep with in order to continue to stand proud when the others, which seem to be of much the same architectural merit (i.e. none) get flattened?

My only guess is that the other two (were there two? My memory is short at best...) were razed to make way for luxury flats, whilst this one has been kept to be 'refurbished' as the obligatory 'affordable' accommodation. Is my cynicism justified? I've seen no plans at all for this area, though of course the whole Woodlands debacle rumbles tediously on in the background...

Workshops for the Blind

Benedict asked me about this so long ago that I'm embarrassed to admit that I've only just got to it today. He says:

"I am always intrigued by the old bits of carved masonry that sit in the Clock Tower Market area. There is a sign saying they were from the old Workshops for the Blind. Do you know any more?"

The Phantom replies:

I've not been able to find out huge amounts, but here's what I've gleaned so far. They were set up in 1877 as Workshops for the Blind of Kent by the fabulously-monikered Major-General PJ Bainbrigge, R.E. It started out with 15 blind workmen (I can't find any evidence of women)

It seems to have been pretty much where the horrid Ibis Hotel is now (God, I hate that chain,) and the various ornate bits of masonry that lie around the place are indeed from the old workshops. I can't find any pictures of its exterior, though there is one of the interior in Mary Mills's book Greenwich and Woolwich at Work, showing a large tiled room with various men in shirtsleeves making wickerware - baskets, shopping bags and chairs. There's a letter in an old edition of Greenwich Industrial History Society's bulletin from Beryl Mason, whose father worked there. She talks about a shop attached to the workshops where people could buy the baskets.

The business grew slowly - from 20 workers in 1911 to 41 in 1930. I suspect there may have been an increase, too, after WWII. I can't quite work out when the business was moved to Eastney St - what is now Feathers Place, but when it did, they branched into making mattresses and rope 'fendoffs' for ships. According to Beryl Mason, who visited her father at the workshops, they worked in the cold and dark - saving on lighting - (though as far as I know blind people feel the cold as much as anyone else...)

By the 1970s, blind people were finding work in the sighted world and demand for specific jobs 'for them' was falling. When the workshops finally closed, the foreman, a 'local character' known only as 'Jim,' started a basketware shop in Greenwich High Road. I have no idea where it was.

So there you have it Benedict. Bet you'd forgotten you asked that one...

The Iron Man

At last!

Lloyd Scott AKA The Iron Giant, reached The Cutty Sark - and Simon managed to snap him and his bucket-followers. I tried to catch up with the robot-road-runner but the traffic's backed up so far (presumably behind him) by now that I'm afraid the flaky old Phantom gave up.

He'll be well on his way to Deptford by now...

See Lloyd's website here

The Phantom's Proxy Marathon

Thank you sending me photos of the marathon, guys. I felt (almost) as if I were there - minus the freezing cold and the rain, of course...)

Kirsty's pics show the camaraderie that the marathon invokes. And I can see that by the time the runners passed Woolwich Road at least, they were all still wearing their costumes, smiling - and the sun was out.

Benedict was a little further up the way (though not that much) and experiencing a completely different marathon. He admits he was utterly freezing and that rain was threatening - so I owe him a big thank you for sticking it out long enough to get pictures.

Lloyd Scott and his Iron Man costume are taking it a step at a time and he won't be finishing 'til Friday (so it's possible we may see him yet) but Benedict did find a lady on stilts

At first I thought the guy behind her was flagging already - until I realised that he appears to be dragging a sandwich board.

And that's what I love about the London Marathon. All the others around the world seem to take themselves so seriously. We just arse about and have fun (if you can call wearing a filthy, smelly rhinoceros suit for 26 miles 'fun...')

I particularly liked this nurse...

...though I'm not convinced she would have approved of this naughty dog who's taken his head off (a surreal thought) and is enjoying a sneaky fag...

I'll email Lloyd Scott's team and see if they know when he's going to pass us. I don't hold out much hope for catching him this time, but I'll suggest he puts an estimated time on various points on his website for next year...

Mystery Filming

Just working my way through the lovely mail you've sent over the weekend, and I've found a curious one from P&D who experienced some mystery filming on Friday... He writes:

"There's a large film crew (catering vans, prop vans, winibago, etc.,) over in the Sainsburys car park on the peninsula. Any idea what they are filming at the moment? The current scene is a little ref VW polo with three people inside 'chatting' with the main Sainsburys store as the backdrop. I didn't recognize anyone but then again I don't watch too much TV."

The Phantom hasn't got a clue - I was away. But did anyone else get a glimpse of this?

Marathon Advice

Folks - I'm off on my travels in a minute, but before I go, a little Marathon Advice from Benedict, if you're going to take some lovely pics for me... He says:

"Take some step ladders! Even those little kitchen ones are good, it gets so packed you cant get to the front to see. I did it last year to photograph the runners coming round The Cutty Sark, plus when you need a break you can let some families with kids have a look, and get an enormous sense of well being when you see the kids grateful smiles! Hope to be doing the same this year."

The Phantom adds

A mac will be useful too, if the BBC weatherman is right. No umbrellas - or the people behind you will beat you up.

So. Don't forget:

Tonight: The Importance of Being Earnest