Phantom Favourite Front Gardens (9)

Royal Hill, SE10

From the very eastern tip of Greenwich on PFFGs No8, hidden away in the Peninsula, through to much more familiar territory, this fab little cottage is like many of my fave front gardens in that it doesn't actually have a front garden to speak of. The sheer exuberance of just a couple of well-chosen window boxes and several plumes of brightly coloured Hollyhocks are enough to brighten what could be quite austere Georgian front, giving it that slight crossover feel. Smart town house or country cottage? You decide. I love it.

BTW I took this picture last year - so don't expect the view to be exactly the same just at the moment. The hollyhocks are high, but not out yet and the window boxes need to fill out. Give it a month or so. But if you're interested, I also notice it's for sale.

Roberts-Free Zone

Sit down, Chris Roberts fans, I have some sad news for you. I have just received my copy of Greenwich Time, and although the whole household has combed through it, no one can find any photographs whatsoever of The Man Himself. In fact we can only find one picture of any councillor - Jackie Smith (of whom I confess I've never heard, so it hardly counts.)

It's a bit of a shock, I know. Going cold turkey - from up to seven pictures in one week to none at all could be quite upsetting for some vulnerable sections of our community and so far I have been unable to ascertain that the council have set up any kind of special counselling service to help people deal with the emotional fallout resulting from this decision.

I have to say that many will applaud this zero-tolerance attitude, and some may even point out that the paper seems to be pulling its socks up, but I feel that this measure is a little draconian.

My suggestion would be a softer regime. By instigating a "Pin Up Corner" (somewhere between the wheely-bins and the vast number of stories about small children gardening) Roberts addicts - and, indeed, all collectors of Chris-o-bilia could have their own section - without which the whole thing could go underground and become difficult to police effectively.

A specially-commissioned portrait one week, maybe; tougher images the next, for the hardcore mob (with accompanying Parental Advice warnings prominently-displayed on the previous page, of course.)

Perhaps Our Man sitting astride a Harley Davidson cuddling a kitten, or in action-pose standing on top of One-Tree Hill dressed as Neo from The Matrix ? Ah. I'm the only one that fantasises about that one then. The Phantom moves swiftly on...

I can just see the section now - lovely pictures - a heart-shaped one, perhaps, with dotted lines around it and a little scissor-symbol to make it accessible for all. Or maybe he could be wearing a chef's outfit and it could be combined with a healthy recipe for all the vegetables those kids are growing?

Or what about his own cartoon strip? A Marvel/DC Comics superhero-type thing? The Councillor. No - that's all wrong. That sounds more like a super-villain. Maybe a Photo-Love Story then? Let's face it. The possibilities are endless. We could have an annual freebie calendar - Chris with a beach ball, Chris with mistletoe, Chris as the Easter Bunny...

Or - if this is all too much of a temptation for people trying to kick the habit, perhaps he could be quietly inserted into one of the other pictures. Peeping from behind bushes, or looking through one of the windows of the available council houses for example. Searching for him could take all week and there could be a small prize for the first person to Spot The Chris.

Subliminal, eh?

Flatiron-mongers Building

Carem Plumbing & Heating Supplies Ltd
Trafalgar Road SE10

You know what - I've been a grumpy old Phantom recently - moaning and grumbling - and it's occurred to me that that's not really why I started this blog. Of course, pointing out stuff I think needs talking about and worrying about things-to-come is important - but I started writing this because I wanted to celebrate some of the good things about Greenwich - the funny, quirky little things that make it somewhere to want to give a damn about it.

The things we pass every day without noticing - the fun stuff. This, for example - Greenwich's answer to the Flatiron building. Ohhhh Yes. New York's got nothing on us. We've got Carem Plumbing Supplies.

This teeny-tiny little store must have been here since the Ark. In fact Noah probably bought all his plastic pipes for the ark from here.

Presumably some speculative Victorian builder got the end of a row of shops and couldn't decide how to deal with the corner. So he fitted-in what he could. After all, there will always be someone who can use a half-sized sales outlet.

At the nominal 'front' of the store, just a door's width in total, burly plumbers must have to squeeze their way through past racks of widgets and stop-cocks, tap-heads and pressure-guages through to the business-end at the back, a tiny desk and the widest wall in the place (let's face it, not very wide) also covered in packets of washers and screws.

The upside of having a triangular shop is that you get two windows, each with a funny little leaded light at the top and these are crammed with dusty showerhead kits and faded boxes of haeven-knows-what. I can't imagine there's room for a bed in the room upstairs so I guess it's a store.

An old sign painted on the Trafalgar Road wall, clearly from an earlier shop, announces blurrily "We don't do it all but what we do is at the Lowest Prices around." Catchy. Of course they were called Wilkins in those days.

To be honest we could be forgiven for not knowing what they're called these days. The sign's painted out. Maybe they're having a spruce-up? I hope they don't do too much to it.

I love that this little shop still exists. In fact I feel a new campaign coming on. To rename the area, much as The Big Apple celebrates the area around the Flatiron Building, the Carem Plumbing Supplies District. I think it will catch on...

Sorry, RSS Guys!

I've just had a couple of people thinking that my RSS has gone mad, but I have to confess that it's totally my fault here, this time, not Blogger (for once.) It goes like this:

I started writing the Greenwich CTT piece (below) a couple of weeks ago, but halfway through, Blogger stopped letting me upload pictures. So I stuck it into my drafts section and didn't get around to coming back to it untill just now. I finished writing and uploading the pics and hit "post" about 15 mins ago - trouble was, I hadn't changed the date on it, and it appeared in the middle of two-weeks-ago's posts, promting a rather odd RSS feed. So I reposted, having changed the date. Cue another RSS feed. And a few moans from RSS users...

Sorry folks. I always forget that you have to see my mistakes. For heaven's sake don't plough through that lot twice!

Global Greenwich (2) Greenwich Conneticut, Part One

Visiting the Greenwichs of the world - so you don't have to...

I'd always wanted to actually take a train from Grand Central Station. It's the stuff of movies. Of romance, Of adventure. Yeah, yeah - so I was only going 35 minutes into Suburbia, but - well - you know me.

I bought my sixteen-dollar ticket and trotted off to Platform 113 (Platform one hundred and thirteen, guys...) coffee and bagel in hand, hope in heart. For the full effect, I added a copy of The New Yorker. Well - it's not every day an English Phantom gets to play on an American train.

Like commuter trains here, the ones arriving were jam-packed, but going out of Manhattan, it was empty. Just me and a couple of guys in business suits behind me, talking loudly about hedge funds.

The great thing about travelling on rails above the city is the sense of geography - just how damn big Central Park is; just how far up north Harlem is; just how cool it all is when the sun's out and the sky is blue - even if the temperature is somewhere around zero.

My conductor, a cross between Ned Flanders and Tom Hanks in Polar Express, punched my ticket and I settled back in my seat, waiting for some countryside. Of course it never came. New York is exactly like London - a big old sprawl - even leaving the state and entering Conneticut. The only bits that hasn't been built on seem to be the gigantic cemeteries. With mile upon mile of close-boarded houses, each with attendant Stars & Stripes flying proudly outside, I turned back to the train map and idly wondered what lay beyond my destination, just a single stop away now.

It was at that moment I realised that perhaps I should have wondered this earlier.

Two Greenwichs? Hmm. Greenwich and 'Old' Greenwich. Not next to each other, as in East and West or something - but with another stop, called something totally different, in between. Surely they weren't so short of names when naming towns here that they called two just a few miles apart the same thing? Which one was the real Greenwich, CTT? The first was perilously close now. I needed to ask Hedge-Fund Guys.

"Excuse me - but which is the main Greenwich station?"

Do you know? In all my years of visiting America, I have never before met what they so charmingly call "an asshole." Now I was about to meet two. The pair nudged each other and smirked.

"What do you think, Al?"
"Shall we say?"
"It depends on what you want."
"Just the one where the main town is, really."

The stop was getting closer.

For Dog's sake. All I wanted to know was the difference between the two stops - whether they were part of the same town, whether they were reachable on foot - simple questions, I thought, from a simple traveller, who had, admittedly, neglected to notice that their destination had procreated into two different towns.

The pair giggled like schoolboys, turned away from the English weirdo and prepared to leave. I decided that if these two were getting off, it must be the main station, and followed them. As they disappeared around the corner, I heard a burst of laughter. Hilarious. Lost tourists. They make me die too.

Sorry folks - just had to get that off my chest. A timely reminder, perhaps, though, that we live in a tourist town here in Greenwich, England. We ARE all kind to visitors, aren't we...

*

So. Greenwich, Ctt. That's what I was talking about before I got so distracted.

I have no idea what to make of this town, which is why this post's so long. I need to discuss it to understand it. Maybe you've visited and can help me. Maybe you're from there and you've stumbled on this site by accident. Tell me what it's like. All I can do is say what I saw.

I tried reading up about the place before I went, but the information I gleaned from their official website made it clear they're not used to tourists, though they claim that visitors have been coming since 1642, when the town was founded. It told me how to pay a parking ticket or get a birth certificate and warned me not to use a picture of the town's seal without permission, but not what the town's about. I was going to have to try to work that out for myself.

It's well-heeled, that's for sure. The first thing you see as you leave the station is a 1930s sports-car showroom, and the shops along the main street consist of branches of Saks and Tiffany's. Eurochasse sells an eye-popping array of hunting equipment, and Te Amo sells imported cigars. A lot of banks, cute-clothing-for-kiddies-with-cash shops, jewellers' stores and, er, Claire's Accessories. The only food shop I saw was a wet fish shop (Now. Let's not start that discussion again, eh, guys...)

There are some great buildings - public and otherwise. I'd guess that the Ginger Man bar is the oldest shop, wooden-fronted and heavily over-painted,

but most of the buildings seem to be 20th Century. Lots of fine civic buildings and powerful obelisks, quirky architectural styles and curious detail. I particularly liked this Tudor-style American bald eagle:


It's a neat town. Tidy parks, litter-free streets and - and I'm not kidding - a policeman at every crossroads, directing the traffic - of which there's virtually none. Click on the image below to see what I mean.

The streets were deserted, so I went looking for people to talk to. In the glorious post office (the Americans just do post offices really well, don't they? Fabulous buildings, complete with brass 1930s PO boxes, and a real feeling of service, unlike our pitiful efforts, though I'll give us the delivery-speed prize - for now...) a sensible-looking middle-aged woman looked just the ticket.

We didn't get off to a good start. She was almost disproportionately shocked that, given that the stamps I had left over from my last visit needed extras to make up the new price that would totally obliterate my postcard, I chose to buy a single new stamp. "But that's money you have in your hands," she protested.

I changed the subject. What was it like to live in this town, I wondered?

"It's very nice."

I tried again. Was there anything I should be seeing?

Well...she thought for a bit. "There's the museum, I guess."

A museum. That's good. "What's it like?"

"I don't know. I've not been. I don't go out."

This is in a town where there doesn't appear to be anything else. Ok...

"What about this 'Old' Greenwich? Is it part of this Greenwich? Is it far?"

"I don't know. There's a bus, I think. You need to wait at one of the crossings."

This was like pulling teeth. Still- at least there was no one waiting behind me. Was there a guidebook to the town, perhaps?

"I don't know. You might find one in the newsagent."

As they say in those old detective novels, I made my excuses and left, to find my own way about.

Grand, clean buildings. Scrupulously clean. Not a weed, not a piece of litter. Tidy. Two churches. several iconic-looking public-buildings (including a couple of inexplicably tatty vintage buildings - one a deserted art deco cinema, the other a very sad-looking ex-antique centre, in wooden shingle - clearly very old and very unloved, a surprise in this country where they actually give a damn about their history.) I poked my head around one of the big buildings - possibly the library - which boasted an art exhibition, but was given a Paddington-hard-stare by various old folk having lunch in the canteen and beat a hasty retreat onto the deserted streets.

In fact I saw practically nobody the whole time I was there. It's a pretty town, full of Public Art - just everywhere - bronze statues of children - cycling children, running children, tree-climbing children. Just no real people.

And I guess this is the thing. It's a dormitory. Somewhere nice, away from the clamour of the city, for city slickers to relax of a weekend.

The woman in the post office had mentioned the newsagents, and when I went in, I began to get a little more of an idea of this insular community. The magazines on sale were very much of the glossy variety, and, perhaps more telling, there were European imports in all the major languages. Sadly, for a town that is over three hundred years old, no guidebook - the nearest thing being a directory of services. The newsagent himself was chatty, but claimed to know nothing about the town. This didn't stop him trying to sell me souvenir teaspoons and shot glasses with a Greenwich coat of arms on them. I am still kicking myself that I resisted the temptation.

So. A sunny, beautiful visit to a lovely-looking town about which I cannot say I know anything more now I've been there. But this was only the half of it. There was still that other mysterious 'Old' Greenwich. There was nothing to do but get back on the train and seek it out...

Closed Cut-Through

My, my, what a flurry of Greenwich Park-ery. I'm going to move on today, folks, but don't think for a moment I'm going to let that paticular issue lie. I'm going to be returning to the fate of our park, with its trees, quirky features, archaeological remains, ancient trees and - hell - its collection of lovely nooks and open spaces to just go and sit - on a tediously regular basis.

But before normal service is completely resumed, Rod has brought another thing to my attention. It may not quite measure up to the possible destruction of Greenwich Park in priority, but it's yet another little quality-of-life thing.

He writes:

What's the story with that little cut-through that starts by the Post Office (opposite the Rivington and the Clocktower Market) and takes you through two bends over the railway line and into Randall Place (or is it Straightsmouth at that precise point - yes probably is)? It just says "Footpath Closed", and there's obviously building work going on. Nowhere does it say "temporarily", or explain anything really. I know this doesn't compare to many other local issues, like the destruction of the Park for example, but I've used that alley for over 25 years and I don't see how it can be taken out of public use (except temporarily) just like that.

The Phantom replies:

I don't know, to be honest, Rod, but perhaps someone here will. I assume it's temporary, but it's worth an ask. Is the name of the builder written anywhere on the scaffolding? There may be a temporary closure notice on it at the council planning office. I'm a bit up against stuff just now (having spent FAR too long on park-stuff yesterday) but someone here may have some extra info...

Dear Boris...

Well, I said I'd copy you in...


Dear Boris Johnson

It's occurred to me that a bungle has occurred. It wasn't your fault - this happened long before you came on the scene - but you could help sort it out. In fact, you sort of need to, because the people who dug themselves into this hole are way too deep in it to admit they were wrong - and without someone like yourself who can come in wearing big boots and kick up a fuss, giving them an elegant way out, we could be headed for a real problem.

The thing is, that back in the days when the Olympics were just a few scribbles on a fag-packet, it seemed like a really good idea to bung most of the shebang in Stratford and the North East of London. When it came to the Equestrian stuff, though, somehow the new Olympic Park just wasn't going to cut it.

Then some bright spark came up with the idea of using Greenwich Park. "Oooooh yes," said everyone. "That will be pretty. All those TV shots of Wren's Naval buildings and the Queen's House with vigorous, thrusting Canary Wharf in the background and the Cutty Sark's rigging silhouetted against the setting sun over the Thames. They'll bring in the cash. Lovely. OK. Done. We'll never get the games anyway - let's just put that down on the application and move onto the beach volleyball..."

Then it all happened. I was at the Old Royal Naval College the day they announced we'd won. And people were - and still are - genuinely pleased to see the games happening in London.

Trouble was, that now these blue-sky thinkers were suddenly faced with the problem of actually trying to fit the Equestrian Quart into the Pint Pot of Greenwich Park. No one could back down 'cause that's what they'd promised and by now the TV companies were slavering.

Mutterings and mumblings began. From a few of us locals to start with - not really being able to see how it would all fit in, but, perhaps naively, assuming that it had all been thought-out. But then it started from the athletes themselves. They were concerned that the size of the park would not allow for a proper course to be lain out, especially the cross-country.

So there we were having worried about whether it can be fitted in around all the 300-year old trees, Anglo-Saxon tumuli, Roman remains and Victorian layout - and there they were not seeming to think that it could be fitted in at all - even if all our unique natural, cultural and historical features were chopped out of the equation.

We have to face up to facts - Greenwich Park is just too darn small for the Olympics. Or at least the cross-country events.

But by now, the Olympic Authorities had painted themselves into the proverbial corner. They would lose face if they lost the Royal Park and went to somewhere suitable - and already built, tried and tested - such as Badminton. or Hickstead. Badminton is the athletes' choice - it would be my choice too, if having the games meant losing our park. Already, alarming reports of the Park being closed for 18 months before the event (and presumably a similar amount of time afterwards too) are gaining momentum. That's not someone putting up a few spectator stands or a couple of horse-jumps. That's wholesale destruction.

What's odd is that the Olympic guys haven't considered how much face they'd lose if the games went ahead and the place WAS too small - and the rest of the world laughed at us because of our rubbish facilities. (You might care to bear in mind too, that Greenwich and Blackheath are full of holes - secret caverns, tunnels and chalk mines - including many in Greenwich Park itself - let's not even begin to think of what would happen if some horse and rider ended up in one of them...)

You don't have the power, I am sure, to put the kibosh on this. But you do have the clout to be able to ask some serious questions and knock a few heads together. Quite apart from the wholesale traffic and other chaos it would cause (I'm personally less worried about that - that's temporary) this could be extremely damaging to Greenwich's tourist trade from 2013 onwards. These events really mustn't happen here.

Not In My Back Park? Yeah, possibly. But this isn't going to be my back park for ever - and I'm asking you now to give the Olympic Delivery Guys the chance to back down gracefully for all the generations whose back park this is going to be in the future. We can't just go to the local DIY centre and get a few 300 year-old trees to fill in the holes or get archaeologists to discover new and exciting things retrospectively. We HAVE to protect what we have now.

I understand you're rather fond of Greenwich. That's presumably the Greenwich we have now, not what little Greenwich we'll have left if three weeks in 2012 are allowed to take their toll. Please. Ask some questions. And don't take anyone's word for it.

I will be delighted to relay your reply to my readers....

Best wishes

The Greenwich Phantom

Add your own voices, guys, if you feel as strongly as me - and the people who have told me they've written to the Mayor today. Don't wait for 'someone else' to deal with it.

mayor@london.gov.uk

Some Interesting Sites

It seems that people have been doing their homework this afternoon and I'm delighted to pass on some of the sites related to today's earlier post that I've been sent:

http://www.bef.co.uk/Downloads/Greenwich%20Park.pdf

http://www.bef.co.uk/The_Olympic_&_Paralympic_Games/Frequently_Asked_Questions_about_Greenwich.html

http://www.bef.co.uk/Downloads/Greenwich_factSheet.pdf

Greenwich Council has "united with one voice", and it's that of Chris Roberts:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/london/content/articles/2008/02/12/greenwich_olympic_venues_feature.shtml

Good artists' impression here:
http://www.horseandhound.co.uk/news/397/66114.html

The stifling of debate is a bit of a concern:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2006/nov/14/sport.comment

Like many articles, this quotes Dane Rawlins, but notes he "lobbied for the equestrian events of the Games to be held at Hickstead in West Sussex"
http://www.eurodressage.com/news/dressage/europe/2006/uk_greenwich.html

Here are some pictures of the 2008 venues in Hong Kong (moved from mainland China after worries about horse diseases). The showjumping etc arena is for 18,000 people, compared to the 23,000 required (by the IOC) for Greenwich.
http://en.beijing2008.cn/cptvenues/venues/equ/n214076123.shtml

This shows the combined size of the two Hong Kong venues:

http://www.hkjc.org.cn/eng/about/activity_olympic_full.asp?in_file=/english/news/news_2007070716426.htm

Interview on site in Greenwich with the course designer:
http://www.military-boekelo.nl/images1/documenten/sue2.pdf

Underneath the Spreading Chestnut Tree - But For How Long?

I'd meant to wait to talk about the fabulous chestnut trees in Greenwich Park until the autumn, when they fruit - and are the traditional source of much merriment for centuries of people from sundry backgrounds (more about that later). But things have escalated, and I am writing about them now as I am beginning to seriously fear for their safety.

Greenwich Park as we know it was laid out in the early 1660s - a time when the Restoration was still fresh, as were the tastes of the new King Charles II (and Samuel Pepys, of course, who often walked through the park with lecherous thoughts of "Bagwell's Wife...")

Charles wanted to forget the destruction caused in Greenwich by the Commonwealth and create something new for us to be proud of. He fancied something a bit like Versailles and commissioned Andre Le Notre, who'd designed the French palace's gardens to come and work a bit of his magic in Greenwich.

Of course, it's unlikely that Le Notre ever made it here - if he had, it's just possible he wouldn't have designed the park quite like it is now - his drawings are glorious on paper, but frankly they look a bit - well, quirky, given the amount of ups and downs that Greenwich Park's geography actually has. But no matter. It's our quirky - and for centuries we've loved his lines of chestnuts, curious paths and his nearly-cascades (just below the Observatory, that strange, undulating hill is what remains of steps which had been intended as a grand cascade - Charles, of course, being Charles, ran out of cash before it got any further...)

Tree-planting began in earnest about 1664, once the main groundwork was done. John Evelyn, a local - and famous for two things - his diary and his almost obsessive love of trees, got very excited indeed:

"March 4th, 1664 - This Spring I planted the home field and west fields about Sayes Court, with elms, being the same year that the elms were planted by His Majesty in Greenwich Park"

Naturally, it wasn't His Majesty himself that did the spade-work - it was the Keeper, Sir William Boreman's gang of trusty gardeners. 600 Elms and, rather more interesting for us, rows of Spanish Chestnuts, brought over from Lesnes Abbey, plus all kinds of other botanical goodies. It cost £545 just to plant them up. There were also coppices and dwarf orchards (we're still clinging onto one of them - a little haven of hope in a worryingly bleak time for the park.) There's also a mulberry tree listed - the first in England, planted by King James - I have no idea whether it survives and if so, where. Any clues?

But the best bits were those chestnuts, with their curiously spiralled, gnarled trunks and their majestic canopies - loved for generations of hungry locals for their fruits. A few got banged up in Queen Elizabeth's Oak for pilfering the chestnuts, but for most it became a bit of a local autumn sport. Luckily the trees are tough enough to have withstood the annual chestnut beating by eager locals hoping for a bumper crop (see above pic). Curiously, they still do. Suburban Bushwacker sent me a pic last year of a sign in the park (in both English and Chinese, interestingly) forbidding any kind of tree-human contact in the harvesting of chestnuts:

AD Webster, writing in 1902 comments that:

"The collection of trees, shrubs and other plants is extremely valuable."

Funny. You know, I thought that was a given. I thought that this huge natural resource for Londoners and wildlife alike was somehow important to our heritage. To Britain. But ever since I wrote that piece last week about the forthcoming Olympics, I've been receiving worrying emails that make me think that perhaps none of this matters to certain people who would rather see Greenwich Park decimated for their own aggrandisement, and who are in a position to directly affect the fate of our most valuable natural asset, than actually protect our heritage.

AD Webster points out that the peculiar Greenwich soil - very gravelly - is particularly suitable for the Spanish chestnuts. But this soil is also very susceptible to compaction. Hooves, feet, crowds, stands, toilets, jumps. Think about it. This isn't a couple of Chinese grannies nicking a few nuts - this is wholesale destruction. Especially if the course is to be full, rather than gymkhana-sized. In that case, we're talking actual cutting-down rather than just giving trees a slow death.

Of course it's not just 300-year old chestnuts that are in the firing line. Who, like me, has sheltered inside one of those old holly trees, so ancient they're totally hollow, in a sudden downpour? What about that fabulous herbaceous border down by the Queen's House? Literally first against the wall, I'd wager. I wonder if the future King Charles III knows about this?

Sadly everything I have so far is opinion, and I cannot repeat it without putting myself in the firing line for a libel case, but I am beginning to believe that our concerns are just the tip of a much bigger iceberg. Folks, I am beginning to think that we need to worry about this and worry a lot.

Without actual evidence I can go no further so far. But I implore you. Start asking around. Ask awkward questions. And ask everyone. Time is running out. Major decisions are just about to be made, and mostly behind closed doors. We will be presented with a fait accompli which will possibly mean the closure of Greenwich Park for years and, in the long run worse, wholesale destruction of not only our park but large swathes of the heath.

You can't just go to B&Q and pick up a few 300-year old chestnuts after the event. This isn't Ground Force doing a quick makeover in three days with a spot of decking and some blue paint. Gardens and Parks take years to mature, and yet these selfish, selfish people are, I am beginning to get the horrible feeling, intent on decimating centuries of wildlife and culture combined in harmony within the space of a few months. We cannot let this happen.

I repeat. Ask questions and ask them now. If you get any hard evidence, broadcast it. Don't necessarily send it to me - send it to the people who will make the loudest noise (by all means, copy me in though!) Trust no one.

Mailbag Delays

I don't know whether it was the wet weather or something, but I've just peeked at my inbox and found a GIGANTIC collection of exciting-looking emails. I'm delighted to see so many missives, and I'm really looking forward to reading them all, but it's going to take me a while, I'm afraid.

Please bear with me. And don't stop sending me stuff - I LOVE to hear from you...

Gently Floating to Oblivion

Trafalgar Tavern, SE10

So what do we make of this, then folks?

I have often looked at this floating platform (well - floating when the tide's in, natch) and wondered about it. I wonder when it was built. I wonder who used it. I wonder what it was used for. I wonder when it stopped being used. Occasionally I even wonder what it would be like to get it restored and working again. But most of all I wonder how people managed to drink on that thing and not get extremely seasick.

Is it just me? Do any of you think it would be still enough to be able to sit out on and not get thrown about every time some police RIB or the spotty Clipper charged past? I mean - the basic idea feels extremely sound - sitting outside what I have to admit is still a beautiful watering hole on a sunny summer evening quaffing ale and looking out on a millpond Thames and the greenery of Island Gardens, gently being rocked into an alcoholic Nirvana by the soft rise and fall of the water. But in practice, would it actually be particularly pleasant?

Would you enjoy a pint on this ancient (or perhaps not-so-ancient - I know nothing about it) floating balcony - or would you just throw up? I'd give it a go - I could always take a couple of tablets first.

I guess it's all academic anyway. I'm sure that Greenwich Inc wouldn't be much inclined to spend the sort of cash something like that would need to get it beautiful again - and even if they were I daresay Health & Safety would have something to say about it. But as it is, it does feel very sad indeed. At high tide, it bobbles by the windows in a pleasing, desolate, slightly creepy fashion (at night my thoughts turn to ghostly Dickensian figures dancing a Victorian quadrille upon it, attended by spectral moonlit musicians) but at low tide it is a sorry sight indeed, attended only by the odd vandal pulling another balustrade from its mouldering sides, knowing that no one cares enough to stop them.

BTW - don't be alarmed by the strange lights in the sky in the picture above. They're not UFOs - merely the reflected table lamps in The Yacht.

Regeneration - Pah...

The Phantom's cross today. What is this picture of? You might well ask...

This is part of what was formerly one of those "tart up a neglected area" projects, on the corner of Eastney Street and Trafalgar Road. Where the bus stop is.

A fair few quid were spent making this look a bit nicer - to add a little touch of smartness and pzazz to a sad little corner. They put in a few shrubs, a shapely seat or three and a bit of paving there, all tied in together with some slightly random concrete bobbles and a row of little blue lights in the ground.

Nothing special - but it added a glow - the feeling that someone gave a damn about it - that it wasn't forgotten. That once 'main' Greenwich ended, somewhere around the car park between the ORNC and Trafalgar Road, things were still somehow cared for.

I used to love those little lights - a small blue glow that made me smile. I'm a simple kind of Phantom, with simple pleasures.

Then they stopped working. I emailed Mary Mills and, I'll give credit where credit's due, after a painful few months of her nagging, the council finally fixed them and they worked for a few short weeks.

Then they stopped again. This time, it would seem, even the mighty Mary Mills wasn't enough to stop the council just filling it in with dollops of concrete.

IT'S NOT EVEN DONE NEATLY FOR CHRISSAKE.

These bloomin' lights can be bought for home installation for a few quid in B&Q and put in by a home handyman. All across the country gardens are full of 'em. Walk through the Peninusla park and they're working (though on another note, the water fountains aren't...) At the Dome itself they've got little coloured strips in their concrete paths. How hard can it be to maintain half a dozen little lamps at a bus stop in East Greenwich? Too hard for Greenwich Council's maintenance team, it would seem.

When will they learn that it's the little things that create pride in a community? The little things that say "This bit's cared for - respect it, ok?"

It's all very well ploughing money into Projects, with a capitol P - and East Greenwich seems to get all kinds of art/gloss paint-jobs/new design 'projects' aimed at it. But without some kind of integral covenant, created at the time of commission, to maintain these innovations once they're installed, it can actually make an area worse. It can create a Marvin the Paranoid Pavement of a once proud project. It can make an area say "I was cared for once by someone. For a little while. And now they've moved on. Forget me. I don't matter."

Here's what the filled-in lights look like now - a row of little urban cowpats, surrounded by an ever-encroaching selection of brambles and bindweed to remind us how low East Greenwich comes in the pecking order.

Ok. It's a few lights. I'll pull myself together and get a life now.

Anchors Aweigh!

Here's a little bit of the Maritime Museum you'd miss if you blinked. Way out in the far north-eastern corner of the grounds, almost like an afterthought, lies the Anchor Graveyard.* I guess it's the most sensible place for it - I mean it hardly matters if they get rained on, does it - and who's going to pinch some old piece of rusting iron that weighs several tons?

Nevertheless, it's a quaint - and important - part of of maritime history. Being able to sail along merrily is only half the problem - being able to stop is pretty important too. What I like about this quiet little corner is that even on the most crowded day, you're more than likely going to have this exhibit to yourself A place where you can enter a world of crowns, arms, flukes, shanks, bills, stocks and "flush stowage..."

And it's not at all bad, either, for a spot of dreaming of life on the High Seas (is there such a thing as low seas, BTW?) These anchors come from ships often long gone - and the little plaques by each one not only tells you which ships they're from, but where they were found. There's even one from 1805 - the year of Trafalgar; the year of Nelson's death. Take a moment, good burghers of Greenwich, to think upon the jolly jack tars who wielded these iron monuments to Britain's greatness, and, in many cases followed them down to the sea bed and Davey Jones's Locker.

They're by no means all the classic Yo-ho-ho, Captain Pugwash, anchor-shaped anchors either (that's 'Admiralty-Pattern,' apparently, according to the label.) The oddest (and one, I confess, that I find it hard to romance about - I get strange, surreal images of some kind of combination of The Terminator, The Matrix and The Poseidon Adventure rather than Master and Commander ) is a strange orange hedgehog of a beast:

and another looks like some kind of hammerhead shark, but it's all jolly interesting - and, I suspect, something not seen by 99% of visitors. There's handy gate next to them. Next time you're passing, nip in and take a peek...

*Not its real name, I'll wager...

That Marquee Again

Okay, Folks, I've had the definitive reply from Isobel Keim at The Greenwich Foundation about that mysterious marquee. She writes:

"The giant marquee has been set up on Grand Upper Square at the Old Royal Naval College for a major charity event. On 5th June the children’s charity ARK (Absolute Return for Kids) is holding its annual Gala Dinner on site. It is a showcase event, attracting Hollywood stars and the wealthy hedge-fund community. Last year, the event raised £27m for underprivileged children around the world."

Blimey.

£27m? TWENTY SEVEN MILLION? In one night? Comic Relief should just pack up and go home now. Those tickets must cost a bit more than the usual entry to ORNC events... Well, good luck to 'em. And if you have nothing else to do, you could always go and press your noses against the plastic windows - maybe get a few piccies for the Phantom's Scrapbook. Stargazer, me...* You might even get to hear Aerosmith - I can't imagine those walls will be particularly well soundproofed...

* Of course most of the pics in the Phantom's Scrapbook are of our own Chris Roberts in various poses, carefully cut out of Greenwich Time and pasted onto the sugar-paper pages for frenzied perusal after lights-out in the dorm, but I could make a little space for the odd Hollywood star. The best pic of all would be said Hollywood star shaking hands with Chris Roberts, clearly humbled to be in the presence of greatness...

St Andrews Pictures

Yo! For a tiny window of time, I'm assuming, Blogger is allowing me to upload pics before having its next breakdown, so here are a couple of images of the lost St Andrew's Church we were discussing yesterday. We still know very little indeed about it - built in 1900 and demolished around 1986, a sad little unloved building that became redundant within a few years of its erection.

If I'm totally honest, looking at these pics, hand-on-heart, this isn't a completely tragic loss. It looks fairly bog-standard - non-conformist, I'd guess - maybe United Reformed, though to be honest no one seems to know what denomination it was. It's not great architecture, though it's nice enough and certainly no blot. What is sad is that nothing seems to have replaced it.

What this does highlight for me though, is how easily history can be lost - even today, in the days of cheap cameras and easy publication. I don't want to be rude, but these pics aren't exactly of the highest quality - especially the snow one - but they are the best we seem to have (though there is a charming little pic and a tiny snippet of info here courtesy of Kirsty.)

Most of us have some kind of camera these days. IMHO it's almost a duty to record what we have around us - from the extraordinary to the banal - for future generations. I recently spent some time at Greenwich Heritage Centre trying to find photographs of my road. Apart from one picture which had been wrongly labelled and was actually of a building two streets away, there was nothing. Not one single snapshot of a road that must have seen so much.

Get out this Bank Holiday weekend folks, and take a few snaps of your road. Not just the grand stuff; the little, ordinary things that make up the 21st Century. Future generations will thank you...

Mysterious Marquee

In the few hours I've been out and about no fewer than three people, Owen, DeeBee and Anon have all asked the same thing. What is that strange marquee thing going up in between the two main buildings of the Old Royal Naval College?

I've been wondering myself - I had thought that it was perhaps something to do with the new Obsevation Wheel - though it seems a bit early and in the wrong place for that.

Owen wondered if it had something to do with the beer festival, and Anon thought it might be yet another film shoot.

My current best-guess is a temporary visitor centre while they dicker with the new "Discovery Greenwich" building, though why on earth they would think that was a good venue for it is beyond me.

Fear not, though, folks, I have emailed the ORNC - perhaps they'll let us know what's going on...

St Andrews Church

For those of you who may be wondering a) what's happened to all the picture stories and b) why I'm such a grumpy Phantom just now, I am once again battling with Blogger. For the last week or so I've been patiently waiting for it to allow me to load photographs, for the last week or so it has been cocking a cyber snook at me. Bear with me, folks - I have some fantastic pictures that people have sent me and the odd ok-ish sort of pic I've taken myself to go with various things that just wouldn't be the same without illustrations. I have no idea how long Blogger will continue to play silly buggers.

In the meanwhile I have a question for you about a church that used to be on the Peninsula, but which is so now thoroughly lost I can find nothing at all about it. I only found it because I was flicking through a marvellous photo book from the 1980s - Greenwich - A Personal View, by Jon Sturdy and still reasonably available second-hand. Most of Sturdy's book consists of moody pics of the usual Greenwich suspects - the Observatory, the Old Royal Naval College, Cutty Sark etc. but when he comes to the Peninsula, a more poignant story emerges.

A photograph of what was once The Mitre pub then the notorious Tunnel Club (now that nasty nightclub that changes its name every time it has a major glassing, it seems. I think it might be called Da House at the moment - but that could be last month's name) has both gas holders behind it and, next to it on the page (and, I think, in real life) is a fabulously affecting picture of a mouldering church interior.

On the ripped-out floors, rubble collects from falling, dusty masonry; rusting, ancient heaters hang forlornly from crumbling columns. In Sturdy's photograph, bright sunlight streams through high window, giving a feeling of melancholy rather than creepiness. No furnishings, no altar, pews or hangings remain, just an austere brick shell.

It doesn't look an old church - perhaps late 19th, probably early 20th Century, I'd guess from the pic. Little details like the heaters and dead electricity sockets are missed on a first glance. But it's not totally barren. Someone has adorned it at some point with branches of leaves, now dead themselves, tucked into the mouldings at the top of the columns. Who? Why? A flight of fancy on the part of the local youth? A pagan party held at the church's deconsecration? The remains from Greenwich Coven's last Beltane?

By 1986, when Sturdy was writing, the church was already derelict and "probably unsafe, but if you are brave there are still ornate carvings and mouldings to be seen" though he warns would-be explorers to "avoid the large hole in the middle of the floor."

In vain I have searched for anything at all on this now long-lost church. I can find nothing on the net, or in any of my books - if it is in Mary Mills's excellent Greenwich Marsh - The 300 Years Before the Dome, I haven't found it yet. And to my shame, I don't remember it at all.

So I'm asking you. What was this spectre in Jon Sturdy's picture? Who built it? When? Why? When did it finally die?

I can't reproduce it here (Blogger won't let me, and besides, it's not mine to publish) but maybe someone else has a picture? Does anyone have anything about this most lost of lost churches?

Oh, The Shame...

My name is Greenwich Phantom and I am a trash-o-holic.

It all started innocently enough. I had a Green Bin and a Blue Bin and bought a supply of black bags. I put the organic stuff in the Green Bin. I put the recycling in the Blue Bin and the Bad, Evil Stuff in the black bag. I was a Good Phantom. Honest.

But then it started. I didn't notice at first, but then came The Smell. I looked in the bottom of my blue top bin in search of the source of said whiff, and there it was - a single, super-dooper-cost-a-packet Bio-Groove-Deluxe-O-Matic bag full of potato peelings and cabbage leaves, sitting forlornly cooking in its own heat long after all the other, good little bags, had been collected. I had been missed out.

So I called the council. I had to give my address and house number. Ah yes. They have us all on file. And the answer? My innocent-looking little bag was, according to their records,

CONTAMINATED

Oh My God. What on earth had I done? Had I deposited nuclear waste into the food chain? Secretly slipped a dead dog into my bin? Cleaned it out with Cilit Bang?

No. My super-duper bio-groove-deluxe-o-matic liner was merely the wrong kind of bag.

I had stupidly seen the words "bio" and "degradable" and assumed that biodegradable was good. I should have chosen "compostable." The difference? That would be an ecumenical matter.

Of course, I did know about the compostable thing and I've always made an effort to get the right bags (I just can't face putting slimy food remains directly in the bin and there's only so much you can wrap in old copies of Greenwich Time.) But I blew it. One second's loss of concentration in Sainsbury's (I long ago gave up trying to buy any from the council) can lead to misery and rejection. My super-duper-bio-groove-deluxe-O-matic bags aren't even black so the council won't take them as non-recyclable bags.

Oh why didn't I see it? Why didn't I notice before I went on the Council blacklist (which must be gigantic by now) as being The Evil Household That Doesn't Recycle? The villainous Phantom determined to CONTAMINATE the world because I just don't care if we all go to hell in a handcart...

I should have noticed the second I got the bag out of the little green bin and it wasn't dripping with goo (That's the real difference between compostable and bio-degradable, btw - 'compostable' is little better at keeping-in slime than a string bag...) Now I have the indignity of an uncollected bin and I will be marked for life. How will I bear the shame?

Folks. Learn from one who has been there. Shop wisely for your compostables. You never know who's watching...

All Quiet On The Stockwell Front

Sheila asks:

I've been trying to find the most up to date version of the Stockwell Street Development plans online, but can't find them anywhere. The information I've got is:

- Sidell Gibson Architects
- Capital & Counties Properties UK Ltd
- Revised application was submitted to Greenwich Council in April 2008

The Phantom's scratching a spectral head. I confess I haven't spent an awful lot of time on this - but I agree - it's all gone very quiet. Does anyone out there have any links for Sheila?

On another matter, I notice that the buildings along the outside of the market on the North side of King William Walk are all under scaffold. Have they actually started building this hotel? I thought it was still under "consultation..."

Scaremongering - or Real Threat?

Jonathan has sent me this link to the News Shopper's take on an issue that Pablito first brought to my attention from the Telegraph about Greenwich Park just being too damn small for the Equestrian events at the Olympics. Do read them if you can, but what the articles boil down to is

• Greenwich Park is too small. Full Stop.
  This isn't from locals like us, this is from the riders who'll have to use it.
• Nothing will be left afterwards - it will all be removed.(not necessarily a bad thing in my humble opinion - TGP)
• Sadly much of Greenwich Park's infrastructures - paths, flowerbeds; possibly ancient trees - will have to be removed to take the temporary stuff.
• The Park may have to close for a year.
• Friends of Greenwich Park haven't heard anything about this.
• We're promised a "consultation."

Now. Is this a spot of scaremongering on the part of those who don't want the events to take place at Greenwich ('those' being - well, practically everyone except the Olympic committee, it seems - many local people who can't see how it can all be fitted in without massive congestion, damage to the park and loss of important facilities and important historic sites AND the bloomin' riders themselves who don't want to have to turn on a sixpence just to get out of their horseboxes) - or is it a real possibility?

Could we actually lose the use of our beloved park for a whole year leading up to the event, and god-knows-how-long after the games with only the assurances of the Olympic Committee (who, let's face it don't give a damn what happens after those few weeks in 2012; they're certainly not planning on using any of the £24m allocated to create any kind of 'legacy') that they won't have trashed it permanently.

Most of me is staying perfectly calm here. It's a good rallying call for people who care about the history, wildlife, trees, layout and sheer joy that Greenwich Park can give, and giving us a kick up the proverbial backside with a shock is a good thing. But a small part of me is beginning to worry even more about these Equestrian events than I was before. Those trees have survived over three hundred years. They were planted by Charles II. They've survived horticultural fashion trends, the arrival of Science and TWO-BLOOMIN'-WORLD WARS. If they don't have to actually cut them down to get the horses past them, the thundering of hooves will compact the ground to the point where they die anyway.

THERE JUST ISN'T ROOM. For heaven's sake, Olympic Committee, if you won't listen to local people, listen to your own athletes. They want to use Badminton or Lee Valley - to create a spacious, purpose built course for huge crowds. They know what's best for them to win medals. Do you really want the whole of the International Equestrian World grumbling about our rubbish facilities, just so the TV cameras get a nice picture in the background? Shame on you.

There's one thought I've been having whilst writing this, which I wonder whether anyone has actually considered yet. I began to wonder why the games couldn't just shift a little over onto Blackheath - big open space, lots of room, yada-yada. Then I thought. Of course - they can't use Blackheath because it's riddled with holes - as we've discussed on numerous occasions - great chalk caverns just beneath the surface that could fall in at a moment's notice - at the instant of hoof upon ground. A thoroughbred eventer could end up 20ft under the earth's crust, creating at best An Embarrassing International Incident.

Bet you can guess where this one's going.

Greenwich Park, too, is full of holes. Many of them man-made, but holes all the same. Those medieval passages may be brick-lined (and of historic value, incidentally) but they are, nevertheless, medieval and possibly not at their strongest any more. Even the youngest are 300-odd years old. And there may be a wall separating the park from the heath but I can't imagine that the chalk caverns finish at that wall. If the committee insist on Greenwich Park as a venue for pretty's sake, could they end up with a horse and rider in a hole deeper than Princess Caroline's bath?

Just a thought. In the meanwhile, I'm taking deep breaths, sticking with the Friends of Greenwich Park's circumspection, and assuming that this is a story cooked up to fire-up people like me. I confess I have no faith in that weasel-word "consultation." All it means is that they ask us what we think, we tell them and they ignore us. If it comes down to it, and our Park is either going to be mutilated - or closed for a year or more, I shall be first at the barricades, cloak swirling, pistols blazing and swash buckling...

Helicopters Again

Russ asks:

"Did someone start a war over Blackheath and Greenwich? There's a sudden influx of military helicopters regularly flying overhead, are the US invading us soon or what?Your answer would be appreciated."

The Phantom replies:

This is a constant occupational hazard, living here. We're directly beneath the holding pattern for light helicopters waiting permission to enter London airspace - but in comparison to those massive Chinooks, who are a law unto themselves, the commercial craft pale into the soft humming sounds of summer alongside the purring engines of a distant petrol mower and the crack of leather against willow.

I have to say that most of the time it doesn't really bother me too much, but this weekend it did get quite heavy-going. At one point a helicopter flew so low that I actually thought it was in trouble.

Whatever, at some point, we may be able to do about commercial flights, I'm guessing there's nothing can be done about the military stuff - we're stuck with them. They do what they damn please.

On a slightly different note, maybe someone can help me out with a small physics question. The blades on a Chinook. DO they go round in opposite directions to each other (they appear to) and how does that work, then?

Open Gardens - On or Off?

Green-fingered Phantom-readers may remember the discussion about The Pagoda a couple of months back. At the time I promised to let you know the one night of the year it's open for charity as part of the National Gardens Scheme. If you recall, three gardens in close proximity to each other open on the same evening, and a very civilised event it is too, as you quaff a glass or two of wine on a warm June night, drinking in the atmosphere and the perfumed lushness, slowly slipping into quiet oblivion as the 'charitable donations' mount up...

Well, as usual, I've bought the deeply user-unfriendly Yellow Book, but Horrors! There's only one listed in there.

28, Granville Park, SE13, in between Lewisham and Blackheath was the furthest of the three, but no great distance to walk from one to the other. It's a charming garden on several levels with different 'rooms' - lovely indeed. I remember a lovely round lawn and a sweet terrace with palms, as well as a crazy-paved secret bit at the end. It will be open on Friday 13th June from 6.00pm until 9.00pm, price £3.50.

But of 12, Eliot Vale, SE3 (a wheelchair-friendly garden that weaves the visitor in and out of different styles of plants and a high-level pond) and the Pagoda itself, both usually open on those nights, there is no mention.

Why? I have no idea. Maybe they're not exhibiting this year. Perhaps the owners have moved. Or - and this is a wild guess - it could be that they ARE still open, but not part of NGS. I note in the Yellow Book from last year that 12 Eliot Vale were giving part of their funds to a different charity than the official NGS causes. I wonder whether they've decided to donate all their money to the other causes this year and thus made themselves ineligible for the NGS?

Does anyone know? Are these gardens all going to be open on June 13th? Or any other time? I'd miss my annual fix of floral fun...

There's one more garden listed that's not a million miles away - the Hither Green end of Blackheath. 41 Southbrook Road SE12, open Sunday 8th June 2-5pm. I've not been so I have no idea what it's like. Oh - and I'll be looking out for the Bexley Cottage Hospice events too - though they are even further afield...

Greenwich Time

I hadn't intended starting the week with a grumble, but the fluffy piece I was working on has proved to be, ahem, A Bit Long, and, given that Real Work awaits, it will have to hang on until tomorrow.

So in the meanwhile, I'd like to ask your thoughts on this.

Lord knows, I didn't vote for Boris Johnson. And yes, I'm scared. Really quite scared. But there's one thing I applaud him for. He's axed that godawful waste of innocent trees, The Londoner.

A grotesque puff-piece that gave virtually no information worth having and acted merely as one big photo-opportunity for Ken to show off, it is, IMHO, a good saving. I just hope he puts the money to good use.

But of course, this brings me to our own local waste of innocent trees. What on earth is Greenwich Time good for? Photos of Chris Roberts posing with a piece of litter over a waste bin. Photos of Chris Roberts with a group of schoolchildren tidying an old person's garden. Photos of Chris Roberts handing over a giant cheque to some charity. Photos of Chris Roberts shaking hands with some obscure 'community leader.' Photos of Chris Roberts on his own.

What does it actually do? What purpose does it serve that taking out a couple of pages in the News Shopper couldn't? There's no actual news. The features smack of 'filler;' the list of available council houses only goes to show how few there are and how needy you have to be to actually qualify to get one.

Even the addition of Tony Lord (I like reading Tony Lord and have missed him since I don't get The Mercury any more) smacks of desperation. Greenwich Council needs to face up to the fact that they don't have enough to say to warrant what I swear is a now-weekly paper (and if it isn't, it feels like it.)

Greenwich Time is an irrelevant waste of money, paper and Tony Lord. I would happily see it go and the money spent on something worthwhile. I don't care what. Something that would actually benefit the community.

What do you think? Do you agree? Is it an easily expendable extravagance?

But maybe you actually like it? Maybe you wait by the door for your regular fix of Chris Roberts piccies, ready to cut out and paste into your fan-album? Tell The Phantom...

BTW, as I was writing this I thought "I bet GreenwichWatch have something to say about this." And they do. Check it out here

Stuff Going On

I've been sent a whole bunch of stuff going on over the next little while - and have put much of it up on the Parish News section - not in much detail I confess - time has got the better of me. But take a peek -everything from fairs to exhibitions, telly programmes and beer festivals is there.

If I've forgotten anything, do let me know - especially if you sent me stuff and I've missed it out - I'm a bit scatty just now.

As a quick note, if you're sending me something, please do try not to send it in PDF form. It's not just that I hate PDFs (though I do) but more that Googlemail doesn't open them properly and leaves stuff out or claims that the files are corrupted. Cut-and paste jobs or simple Word docs are best.

Happy stuff-doing this wet-looking weekend...

Voltaire, The Saucy Wenches of Greenwich Park and the Unfortunate Admiral Byng

The more I dig around into the past, the more I realise that nothing stands alone - everything bounces off everything else. Things are going on at the same time as other, seemingly unrelated, things, fun mingles with tragedy, national events mingle with personal moments; celebrities mingle with those whose names are lost forever.

So, in trying to investigate what made the French philosopher and satirist Voltaire come to Greenwich in May 1726, I found myself trudging old ground with new boots.

Voltaire, in exile from France while his candid writing continued to smart among certain influential parties, managed to arrive at what must have been a truly surreal moment. He stepped off the boat on a cloudless Greenwich day, a gentle west wind playing at his periwig, and immediately found himself surrounded by hundreds of fabulously-dressed, sparkling, beautiful people. The young maidens, in particular, entranced him with their elegant cotton gowns, running pell-mell across the grass, and dazzling young men on horseback. All along the the Thames merchant vessels were bedecked with bunting, and a gilded barge twinkled with the sound of musicians and laughter. Everyone made him welcome, finding him a good place to view the races and getting him to join in.

"I fancied that I was transported to the Olympian games, but the beauty of the Thames, the crowds of vessels, and the vast size of the city of London soon made me blush for having dared to liken Elis to England."

What is this Arcadian Elysium he's describing with such rapture? Greenwich Fair, of course. Sadly he was relieved of his moment of bliss later when he me