The Wraith of Westcombe Park

Kirsty recently arrived 5 mins early for her train at Westcombe Park Station. She tells me that another lady needed the loo,(have you ever never noticed the loos up the Charlton end of the platform? No neither had Kirsty - or, I, for that matter.)

"When she came out, the Southeastern guy asked if she felt she’d been watched," she tells me "He had a rather loud voice and it was such an odd question I just had to listen in… "

No need to apologise, K, ear-wigging is a time-honoured tradition. If people want something to be secret, they whisper, or at least talk out of earshot of Kirstys and Phantoms...

"Anyway, he went on to say that ‘the chaps in there’ (thumb jerked towards office) reckon that WP station is haunted. Apparently a dark figure drifts through. Supposedly a late Victorian (very late – 'scuse the pun) stationmaster who just couldn’t let go. Sadly the train drew in so I didn’t have time to ask any more questions."

Well. I took myself off to Westcombe Park Station, to find these loos for myself. They were locked. No one around, but the ticket machine was vandalised (apparently the local toughs jam-up the credit-card hole so that people are forced to use cash, then jam up the rejected coins slot, so that they think they've lost their money. When the train's been and gone, they un-jam the rejected coins bit and pocket the ill-gotten gains.)

I've tried several times, whilst in the guise of 'buying a ticket' or 'asking for a timetable' to bring the subject round to ghosts, but - well - you know how it is - how do you bring up a delicate subject like that? I mean - you can't just come out with it - "Is your station haunted?," can you - they could be offended or traumatised for months, having to walk round a deserted station with nothing but a spectral Victorian gentleman and the local toughs for company...

So. I've not been able to get anything on this one but if anyone fancies doing a spot of digging (not literally, unless there's something really very wrong at Westcombe Park) I'd love to know more about this local ghost for local people.

Ghostwriter

Ok - so she's not actually from Greenwich - but she lived in Blackheath and then Eltham for 23 years; a mildly scandalous woman for whom I have a lot of time, and of whom virtually nothing remains at her old home...

A few months ago I went for a cup of tea at Well Hall Pleasaunce where I fell in with one of Life's characters, whom I will call Alf. Alf was determined that I shouldn't just see the Pleasaunce as a pretty park, but as the ex-home of Edith Nesbit, one of our greatest children's writers. He virtually frog-marched me round the grounds, pointing out the wiggly wall, heavily buttressed to support its ancient bricks,


the secret pond in the corner,

the formal gardens

...and the fabulous barn itself, but of the actual 18th Century mansion Nesbit lived in between 1899 and 1922, absolutely nothing remains. There's a picture of it here, which shows it as pretty impressive, but I'm still not entirely sure why it was pulled down in 1931 - the closest I can find out is that it was to make way for the current park. I'm guessing local 'politics' - perhaps even a desire by 1930s social climbers to expunge a mildly scandlalous figure from Eltham's genteel history? Who can tell...

There's been loads written about Nesbit's 'unconventional' life - her sort-of open marriage to the Fabian Hubert Bland, who apparently 'could not by any effort of nature leave women alone' and her bringing up of his various children fathered on herself and, ahem, the assistant secretary of the Society, who also moved in. Gregarious and kind, she threw parties at Eltham for political big-hitters of the day - George Bernard Shaw, Annie Besant, Eleanor Marx. She was also the epitome of early 20th Century Bohemian Woman - tall and striking, dressed in trailing gowns of peacock blue satin, dripping with pearls and Indian bangles - and chain-smoking cigarettes from a long holder. And when Hubert died, she married, if memory serves, an engineer on the Woolwich Ferry, one Tommy Tucker, whose name sounds like it's straight out of one of her books.

Doesn't that put a different slant on The Phoenix and the Carpet or The Railway Children? And don't you just love her more for it?

But I'm not writing a biography here - there's plenty about her knocking around. I'm not even writing about the place - I know virtually nothing about Eltham. What I'm writing about today, it being the day before Hallowe'en and all, is the little-known fact that Edith Nesbit was also a horror writer.

I only found this out when I was in New York a few days ago, in Strand Bookshop, looking for something to read on the way home. I was initially drawn to the display because I thought someone had spilled something sticky on it - the imprint of obscure ghost and supernatural writers has a skull marked out in shiny on a matt background. But there, among the Aylmer Vances and the Gertrude Athertons, was The Power of Darkness - Tales of Terror, by Edith Nesbit.

It's of its time. The golden age, some might argue, of of ghost and horror writing - the Victorian/ Edwardian eras. The stories are at once cosy and really rather disturbing, and not all of them follow classic 'story' pattern. Many are more like incidents - statements, even, rather than plots with beginnings, middles and ends. And they are much crueller than I have found other writers to be. The endings are often harsh and dark, though they include the odd practical joke. There's no let-off for her characters - they make one mistake and are doomed for life. Apparently she was taken to visit the mummified corpses of St Michel in Bordeaux as a small child, and she had a relative who was accidentally put in their coffin ready for burying whilst still alive, something that stayed with her for the rest of her life. Both of these incidents clearly influence her work, as does, I'd guess, Poe.

With the best will in the world, I'd say the collection was patchy. When she's good, she's utterly terrifying, but other stories left me a bit bewildered. The most famous, Man-Size In Marble is creepy and atmospheric, something at which she's very good, and yet it, like all the stories, carries an Edwardian patina of snugness that belies the somewhat sudden and pretty grim ending. The Five Senses is bloomin' scary and From the Dead is singularly callous, but other stories, like Uncle Abraham's Romance and the mightily puzzling Power of Darkness left me wondering what to make of them.

Hand on heart, she's no M. R. James. But if you want a shiver for Hallowe'en you could do a lot worse than checking out Edith Nesbit's non-kiddie stories. In the meanwhile one thing at least remains of her at Eltham. The suitably satanic-looking bell hanging from the east end wall of the Tudor Barn comes from her house.

Going Postal

Sorry. Couldn't resist the dreadful local newspaper-worthy title.

Anonymous is wondering:

" If anyone else has experienced postal problems lately in the Greenwich area?

We've had lots and lots of items go astray over the past few weeks (and indeed over the past few years) some of which were rather important.

It's also difficult to ascertain just how much isn't being delivered when you've not actually posted it. Anyone else have the same problem?"

The Phantom replies:

Join the queue, Anon. My mail over the last six months or so has gone from poor to appalling. I've regularly had letters for my next door neighbours (both sides,) letters for my house number in two neighbouring streets, and even totally random mail for different areas of Greenwich. Sometimes it's entire batches of mail, not just single letters. It's clearly been happening the other way round, too, as I get people putting my mail through my door, or even knocking, to let me know it's arrived (and have a moan at the same time.)

I used to have a lovely postie - I knew his name and chatted whenever we met. He gave a great service - to the point where he actually deserved a Christmas box. He got moved because, he told me, that they don't like postmen to get too friendly with customers. Presumably because they'd get to know where people live and actually deliver to the right house - or, heaven help them, stop to chat and add five minutes to the round. Could it be Health & Safety - if the postie actually knows his clients he might stop to help an old lady up the path, slip himself and get a work-related injury? I have no idea - but I bet it's something mad like that.

The latest wheeze seems to be writing out the "while you were out..." forms whilst still in the depot and popping them through the letterbox, saving the bother of having to actually carry a parcel to the door. This has happened to me several times when I was actually in - and once when I was right behind the door, so I KNOW the guy didn't knock, but just walked up and slipped the note through.

Annoyingly, that time, I merely noted that mail had arrived and didn't see the 'while you were out" form or I'd have run down the road and called his bluff. I ended up trekking to the sorting office three times in one week - twice being for someone else as they are just never home when the sorting office is actually open.

No, Anon, it's not just you. It's a rubbish 'service.' And don't even get me started on the post office in Woolwich Road...

Bah.

Wood Wharf Studios and Billy Jenkins

Photo: Simon Thackray

I always find it very illuminating what people seek out on YouTube. I'm guessing that Scared of Chives was not actually looking for "Wharf Studios" when he came across them on a docco about Kate Bush (tee hee, SoC) - but hey - here they are, in misty-moisty, grainy-form, circa - heavens - looking at her in that vid, I'd guess late 70s/early 80s.

Of course I couldn't leave it like that. I had a great deal of trouble finding anything about "Wharf Studios" - well, you try googling anything with the words 'wharf' and 'studios' in the title; all you'll find are microscopic Docklands apartments. But I finally found Wood Wharf Studios, in a Wikipedia article about Billy Jenkins, a name that was clanging enormous bells in my head.

The studios seem to have been at their zenith around 1986, and I found bands such as Mark Knopfler, Iron Maiden and Dire Straits recording there, but as I delved deeper I became more and more interested in their owner, who was variously described as "The Rigsby of Greenwich"(by "Anonymous," very possibly himself, given his evident sense of humour) and "If Clapton is God then Jenkins is the giant turtle upon whose back the entire universe stands," by the Sunday Times. Blimey.

Billy Jenkins sounds like my sort of guy. He's from times when it was possible - and indeed a good thing - to be experimental within music - to move through, in and out of genres to create one's own sound, without reference to besuited record company execs. (Oh yeah - they were around, just largely ignored, before gaining a horrible iron grip on music in the 80s. Perhaps with the advent of the internet and the flux of an established music biz forced to fall back on back-catalogue and boy-band covers as deals go into meltdown we are in for another of those eras. Discuss.) The 60s and 70s saw huge change in music and it seems that Billy Jenkins was right in the middle of it.

I'm not going to reinvent the wheel here. Here's a sharply-written article that gives an overview of the man...

The weird thing is I'm sure that someone was talking to me about him only a couple of months ago. Rod - was it you? I've checked out his excellent website and MySpace - if you do, do listen to the music there. The titles are enough to make you smile - I particularly liked the idea of "Sounds like Bromley" and "Still Sounds like Bromley..."

Take a special listen to "Not Close To You" - a cross between the Carpenters, a light-voiced Tom Waits and Spike Jones. His guitar-playing is clearly superb, but he brings something else with him - a deep humanity and invention. I'm going to be at the next gig he does. Nothing on the date list yet; he seems to be too busy conducting humanist funerals, but fingers crossed...

How wonderful when someone sends you a little YouTube clip, and you end up finding something fantastic. I am a happy Phantom this morning...

East Greenwich Library

Following on from my post earlier today about the turning of Greenwich into a theme park, I've just remembered something chilling that was said to me when I went to the 'consultation' for the Heart of East Greenwich development. I asked what was to become of East Greenwich Library, since it's listed but there's no way it will ever stay as a library once the new development crashes into being.

Now,before I go any further, I don't actually think it's a bad thing to move the library into bigger premises. The one we have is hopelessly inadequate - you try and find anything that isn't a large-print romance or a board book for the under-fives in the current East Greenwich Library - one that's larger and better-equiped can only be a good thing IMHO.

I had assumed that the building itself, though, would be kept for community use - it was, after all, a gift to the people of Greenwich from Andrew Carnegie. Maybe morphed into more of what it already is - a music centre for Greenwich Community College, which seems like a good idea to me. But the just-out-of-short-trousers youth who had been assigned to field questions like mine, merely grinned and told me, pretty much as a matter of pride, that only the facade of the building is listed and that they can do what they like with the interior.

I asked him what sort of thing they had in mind, but he just shrugged and grinned some more. Personally, if I had been the people who were putting forward the 'consultation,' I'd have told him to be a little less smug and a little more vague, but perhaps that shows the contempt they have for local people and, of course, the little farce called 'consultation' the developers have to go through in the name of 'public involvement.'

Luxury flats, anyone?

Hidden Victim - or Good Riddance

Today, folks, I bring you some modest little buildings. They're not the grand stuff of Georgian Greenwich, they're not fabulous architecture, but I'm arguing that they say just as much about Greenwich's history as some of the grander places around here.

Something of which we are guilty in this town is that in preserving our pomp, in bigging-up our Royal and nationally-significant history, we overlook what really made Greenwich tick - the ordinary people, the industry and the day-to-day running of the place. In the couple of years I've been writing this blog, I have found it far more difficult to find anything out about working or middle class Greenwich - virtually every history book and most of the documents I've seen have referred to its glamorous side (with the honorable exception of Mary Mills and the sterling work of the Industrial History Society).

So. Where actually are these buildings? Round the back of the market, slotted in between the 1830s fronts and the hastily-erected 70s nightmares that actually line the business area. I bet you didn't know it was actually called Durnford Street. They are described as "storage" in the only reference to them in the Greenwich Market Consultation.

"The building to the west of the market will be built further back, into the car park yard beside Durnford Street, which is currently used for storage."

Now. I'm not arguing that these are gems of architectural history. They're functional, sturdy (if you ignore the scaffolding, presumably left up because they're being nixed) and rather pretty - who puts little curly pinnacles and roundy leaded lights with little corbels on a back-building or gives a garage door a little brick arch and curved windows these days? I can hardly stand on a soap box, hand on phantasmagorical heart and say these are either architecturally meritorious or even particularly rare as the country goes. But they are a link with what the market was really about, as opposed to what it will become.

I am sure that the market in its new form will continue to be a draw - and attract thousands of tourists to buy sandals made out of car tyres or rude-shaped candles every weekend. But I somehow mourn the loss (for I am sure that these sweet little outbuildings will be lost, given the plans available and the fact that they're playing that area down, hoping no one notices, and let's face it, perhaps no one has...) of harmless buildings that could present a solid link with the Victorian aspect of the market (which will be totally lost - Georgian, and Williamsian (is that how you call it?) yes, Victorian, no) and keep a little of Greenwich's industrial soul.

More and more in London I see the facades of buildings preserved (because developers are forced to,) painstakingly held up with scaffolding while a modern building is slotted in behind, and I guess it's a move in the direction towards keeping at least some of our history. I certainly don't want to live in aspic. But I do wonder whether if that's exactly what we're doing with the market - keeping the 'look' of the place, with the Georgian facades acting like stage flats but actually chucking out the gritty reality of our past, to be replaced by GreenwichLand Theme Park, forever doomed to play the part of 'anywhere' in Hollywood movies?

So - what do you think? Am I being a Sad Old Luddite, clinging onto the past here, spectral nails scraping down the blackboard of change? Or am I not the only one who rather likes this little jumble of Victoriana?

As a PS to this post, Rob has sent me a link to his website, which has a feature by Andrew Gilligan, where he discusses the bloody awful mess that Nelson Road's turned into recently...

Rhodes Prices

Margaret says:

"Was shocked and taken aback to find the new Coffee/bread shop, Rhodes, in Greenwich town centre charging an extra 70p to put a slither of butter - which was actually soft margarine - on my 80p scone. On complaining about this,assistant said couldn't do anything about it, down to the owner!! Told them not a very clever thing to do,especially local residents!! Has anyone else had any bad experiences there??"

The Phantom replies:

I think they're still playing with their prices. When I went in there in the first couple of days, I had a pleasant chat with the American guy who seems to be in charge of the actual shop, and he asked me what I thought of the 'then' prices, saying that they didn't really know what to charge - I guess because there isn't a comparable outlet in the area - an actual shop rather than a stall, artisanal baked goods and a small sit-down area, though I was mildly surprised they hadn't visited other similar places in the capital to check out their prices, which, I'm guessing they have done now.

The thing is, is that this IS a tourist area, and the CAN get that sort of money for a scone and butter (are you sure it was marg?) when people are expecting to pay for a day out. I also suspect that the shop is not a cheap place to rent and the good old fashioned 'overheads' are kicking in. It's probably not just representing the price of the spread, but also the fact that you'll be sitting down' to consume it. I'm not sure if there are different tax prices if a scone stops being a 'raw material' and becomes in the government's eyes 'a sit down meal.' Maybe someone can enlighten me?

BUT. In the winter months especially, when the tourists aren't forthcoming and they rely on us locals, especially with the looming recession, 70p for a scrape of butter does seem a bit excessive, even if you're paying realistic wages to your staff (you are paying realistic wages to your staff, guys, now, aren't you..?)

Here's a thought, Rhodes guys. Why not do a residents' discount - I don't know - free butter on your bun or something - easy enough created by talking to the GreenwichCard department at the Council. Giving us locals a discount will create a hell of a lot more goodwill than it will cost you in butter, and it will keep us coming through thick and thin.

Or maybe a loyalty card? I have about four of them for Beehive, as I keep forgetting to bring them with me, but I'm determined that one day I'll bring them all together and get myself a free flat white.

I still love Rhodes. I'm not quite so fond of their brownies as their other stuff - mine was really rather dry and sugary but those raspberry custard tarts, the giant meringues and, yes - those scones - are fab. IMHO it's a massive contribution to Greenwich Town centre, and not just because it's a proper bakery where we only had Greggs before. It sends out a signal to other high quality shops that don't exclusively pander to the tourist trade that Greenwich is ready for nice food, friendly service and attractive surroundings. I'm a regular, so I'd most definitely appreciate a loyalty card system/Greenwichcard Discount/ both.

So what do you think? Is Rhodes losing it's shine, or do we need to be a little indulgent of a new, high quality business?

Festival New Orleans

I meant to remind you guys about this, and forgot, but since there's still a day to go, I'm doing it now.

Festival New Orleans appears to be a bid by the city - and the entire state of Louisiana - to bump up its tourism by letting us know what a cool place it is, as if we needed to be reminded, bless. I'm guessing they organised it before the credit crunch and that it's hurting a bit now, but that's no reason not to go along and enjoy it. In fact it's all the more reason - to let them know we love 'em.

I went along this evening. I'm not promising anything sparkling in the way of reviews here - aw, c'mon - it's Friday night and I've just got back from a festival for heaven's sake.

It's basically a bunch of really rather excellent bands in various locations that aren't the main arena, Indigo 2 or the very yuckky Bodyworlds. There are apparently cookery demonstrations but I've not seen any.

Not to be missed is the fabulous Cajun fiddle player Michael Doucet, who I've loved for some time despite (well, actually because of) the fact that he has no voice whatsoever and gives the impression of being out-of-his-head. He still sounds great. Bonjour, Bonne Annee is a classic in the Phantom household around Christmas time. Curiously he didn't sing it tonight. Can't think why.

He's in the very ugly new Matter nightclub - decor courtesy of NCP. I daresay they call it 'neo-brutalist' or 'post industrial' or something equally up itself (read 'cheap') and I guess at least it doesn't show if beer gets spilled all over it. A quick sloosh down with an industrial car wash and you're laughing. There's an enormous plastic lean-to in the middle for the sound man, and the one thing I'll give it is good acoustics, which is more than I can say for the main 'Louisiana' stage.

I'm sure it's Health & Safety that means that the glaring industrial arc-lamps are left on throughout the performance of even the headliners, but that, combined with the appalling, booming sound, made the ever-fantastic Allen Toussaint sound like he was playing - well - in a great big soulless tent, funnily enough. There were a lot of people there, and he was playing like a demon, but the atmosphere was flat as shortnin' bread.

The effervescent marching band, and the very strange characters dressed in feathers had the same problem - the atmosphere, and especially the godawful overhead halogen lights that light "Entertainment Avenue" did their best to kill them stone dead. Luckily, the place was heaving - and not just with tinies who had gone to see Finding Nemo on Ice. It's the people who are playing and the people who visit it that make this festival. The venue itself is a dead fish for this kind of thing.

Go and see it though. The acts are great (Dr John's on tomorrow) and if you can get into the spirit despite the best efforts of the O2, you'll have a ball. Get your timings here.

Fat Boy's Diner

Continuing in my not-really-in-Greenwich-but well-worth-a try series, Fat Boy's Diner could actually be in the American Mid-West, the amount of trouble it takes to get to, despite the fact that it's only a couple of hundred metres from The O2 as the crow flies. As the Phantom trudges, it's a good three-quarters of an hour, but the kitsch-value alone makes the trip worthwhile.

There's no information about the history of how this 1940s American diner, complete with aluminium cladding, Formica tables, slightly ageing red vinyl bench seats and twirly bar stools at the counter actually made it over to Blighty, but you know, I'm sure I remember it around Liverpool Street in the late 1980s (Am I mistaken? Or was that a different Fat Boy's Diner? Maybe they're all over the place - two-a-penny - and I just haven't noticed them...)

Maybe it got too pricey to keep a what is essentially a posh caravan selling burgers in the City, but it's found its spiritual home now, nestled among dead lighthouses, weird installations and container studios of Trinity Buoy Wharf, beloved by the artists who live there and their visitors alike.

How to describe it? Well - just think of practically any Hollywood movie that has pretensions to nostalgia and you've got it. Plastic sauce bottles (sadly not in the shape of tomatoes or hot dogs but you can't have everything) Venetian blinds that make me think of that sinister scene in Goodfellas where Robert de Niro meets Ray Liotta 'with intent' (yeah, yeah, that wasn't a trailer, but it was still damn creepy) black and white tiles and tabletop juke boxes. I once found a job lot of over 70 of those babies for just under thirty quid each, but I couldn't even lift one of them, let alone get it in my suitcase, chiz.

Outside, they've plonked a few tables and some Yuccas. I don't recommend them just at the moment, but they're lovely in summer.

I'd say, to be absolutely honest, that the setting and the fabulous, fabulous decor are the real reasons to make a pilgrimage to this place. The food is predictable - burgers, hot dogs, fries (not chips, obviously) with shakes and Cokes, followed by pies and sundaes. And so it should be - it would be just wrong to eat anything else in such a venue. As it goes, it's well-cooked and cheerfully served. But don't expect anything more than that. It's fun food, not gourmet, like most caffs, really.

The joy is in just being able to sit in a backwater in East London and pretend you're in The Last Picture Show or Back to the Future or American Graffiti (even if their diners aren't caravans either) Or maybe one of those really terrifying Films Noirs that aren't set in the night or the city, but which usually involve deranged hitchhikers and escaped criminals kidnapping travelling salesmen in the scorching desert sun. Or maybe Sliding Doors, which was apparently actually filmed there, not that I remember anything about that movie save that the film makers clearly thought it was possible for John Hannah to run from the Albert Bridge to the City, via what looked suspiciously like Battersea, in ten minutes, and that no one would notice that the Waterloo-City Line doesn't go to Upminster...

OK, so here's the snag. Getting there. Normally, you're going to have to either drive round via the Blackwall Tunnel or get a DLR to East India Dock from which it takes about 15 minutes to walk.

Every once in a while, on high days and holidays, Thames Clippers take pity on us and run a free shuttle boat from the 02 to Trinity Buoy Wharf. Keep an eye out for such events here and take advantage of them, because it will mean that everything else is open as well - artists' studios, installations, etc. And the first weekend of every month, the very-odd-indeed tinging and bonging sound installation Longplayer by Jem Finer gives you the excuse to get inside the historic lighthouse. But that's for another day...

Cromwell's Independent Traders and Commonwealth Custard Creams

I've been trying to find out about Greenwich during Cromwell's time. I mean, I know that he took over the place and tried to sell it, without much real luck. I know that he and his cronies stripped the old palace of Placentia of all its trimmings and generally bashed it about so much that by the time the Restoration took place it was only fit to be pulled down. But I've been having difficulty finding much detail.Perhaps most of the records got lost in the Restoration...

Mostly it seems to have been run over by roundheads, kicking out 'malignant and disaffected persons' (read "the king's hangers-on and servants")and swiping as much stuff as possible to flog off. They bundled it all up into a yellow Reliant Regal van, and took themselves off to Peckham for the nearest boot sale.

The Kings's paintings were the first for the chop (after himself, of course...) and the whole of Europe bowled up for the party. Cardinal Mazarin was at the front of the queue, in his sheepskin car coat and slip-on shoes, eager to get his paws on some knocked-off furniture for his Paris gaff. His shopping list included some nice secondhand beds, a couple of carpets and a hanging or two for his walls.

Queen Christina of Sweden was more interested in the jewellery stall. She fancied some jewels and medals, though once she was there, she couldn't resist a few paintings either. She'd had to elbow the King of Spain out of the way, clearly the type that starts trying to handle the goods before they're even out of the boot of the hatchback.

"Honest" Archduke Leopold was into buying in bulk and made an offer for a job lot, before getting a white van to cart them off to Belgium and Germany. It's not clear how some of the paintings ended up in Wilton House in Wiltshire, but I'd put money on the van driver being slipped a few groats...

I'm not sure who would have wanted to be seen by Mr Cromwell buying a giant marble statue of the ex-king, but someone did. Other sculptures of The Headless One had been bundled up into a big cardboard box by accident and sold by mistake. One, which had stood in Covent Garden, was later the subject of an inquiry, where it turned out that the individual, who could only have been called Trotter, who had bought it "to melt down," had really buried it, to sell later when times got better. "This time in ten years we'll be milyonnaires..." In the meanwhile he made a tidy sum selling trashy souvenirs supposedly made out of the molten king...

But back to the palace. The innards had been well and truly dispersed, but they didn't know what to do with the bricks and mortar. Some people suggested that's exactly what they should be used as - second-hand building materials. The Lord Protector looks as though he had his eye on the place for himself, though, and although they trashed it, they didn't actually pull it down, temporarily using it for storage instead.

Every so often I find little allusions, always in a single sentence, that the palace was turned into a biscuit factory.

A Biscuit Factory? You can't just leave it at that. What kind of biscuits? Pink Wafers? Digestive? Rich Tea? Iced Gems, perhaps, to stand for the lost jewels of Placentia?

I'm voting for Jammie Dodgers. After all, Greenwich was one of the last strongholds of Charles I before they cut off his head. Maybe the face-shaped biscuits represent the old king, and the jam his oozing gore. I daresay the flowing locks and the goatee got lost in the baking process during the Victorian times.

The truth is, as boringly-usual, much more prosaic. Ship's Biscuit, of course, which as every schoolkid knows, made up the protein part of a sailor's diet in the form of maggots and weevils, the forerunner of today's Garibaldi. During the Armada, everyone got a pound of biscuits and a gallon of beer a day to live on. I'm surprised that on that diet Sir Francis Drake could actually bowl straight...

Here's a recipe for Ships Biscuit, though apparently none of the flour you can get now is nearly as rank as the original stuff would have been:

Ingredients:

1lb Flour, the roughest you can find. Grind your own out of roots or something.
1/4 oz salt. The nice gritty variety.
Water to bind. Preferably stagnant
Weevils (optional) A generous handful per sailor.

Method:

Mix all ingredients together to form a paste and roll into a thick slab. Cut out biscuits. Stars are a nice shape. Bake in a hot oven for half an hour then leave to get really hard.

Best before: 10 years after being cooked.
Use By: no special time.

According to the Royal Naval Museum the MOD still buys ships biscuits to pop in operational packs (lunch boxes to you and me) but doesn't give them out 'for general messing.' Phew.

So. The question for today. If Greenwich had a National Biscuit, what would it be?

Nekkid! Nekkid, I Tell You!!!

Heavens to Murgatroyd! David's just been swimming at our beloved Arches and he's in a bit of a lather over the facilities...

"I went to the Arches in Maze Hill for a swim the other day, the first time in absolutely ages. After a suitably invigorating number of lengths, I popped myself into the gents' poolside showers. As I hung my towel up I was rather shocked by the note that hung under the peg, which read (and I paraphrase), "Due to child heath issues, no [-] showering here. If you wish to take a shower [-] please use the dry-side changing rooms".

The Phantom interjects here. Normally I would edit out the next paragraph because it's pertinent only to being in an email - but it made me laugh, so it stays...

"The blank in the sentence above [-] was, if I remember correctly, a common word for being sans trunks (or any clothes at all) -- n*k*d. I don't want to spell the word out as I'm sure as using it in the same email as the word "child" is at best likely to put this email into your spam folder, at worst get the police round.

Which is in a roundabout way what I'm getting at with this email. I don't want to embark on a Daily Mail-style "PC gone mad" rant but what's this about? How long has it been there? Is it in response to an actual event, or is it one of those typically hysterical responses to a non-existent problem?

I'm not going to go on the streets to protest my rights to shower sans trunks, but this seems pretty crazy -- after all the showers are suitably separated from the pool, so you wouldn't be "exposed" to anything by accident. I'm going to write to the manager about this to get the "official" view (I would have written something on the suggestion forms by the entrance but I had no pen, and there weren't any available by the forms, helpfully enough). Oh, and I guess it goes without saying that (according to my partner who
came swimming with me) there was no such sign in the ladies."

You know what? I'm with David here. I can't see the harm in this - it's not as though the place is unattended. Any man caught waving his willy at minors would soon be caught and exposed. But I don't have kids. All you parents - would you be disturbed to see a man with no clothes on in a shower? Could it affect your child's health? Or are we demonising half the population?

Sorry - no pics to go with this one ;-)

Greenwich Reach

Henrik asks:

"Does anyone know the time schedule for this project, and is it possible to see how the completed property will look like?After more than a year, in spite of all the noise, all there is to see are piles of soil being moved around by a few workers.I understand Dean & Dyball had to finish the river wall, but that was completed long time ago. Isn't it about time to actually start building something?!?Compared to how quick properties are erected in Canary Wharf, this project seems to be run by a bunch of amateurs.I live in a river facing apartment in St. Davids Square, so I am sick and tired of the noise and view of the ugly building site."

The Phantom replies:

Hmm. I was only wandering past there a couple of days ago and wondering much the same thing. I would blame it on the credit crunch - except that work appeared to grind to a halt on this ages ago. I have no idea what's going on - does anyone else?

All the original links I was given seem to be dead now, but I found this which has one of those artists impressions on it. The Broadway Malyan website logs today's date and tells us consent was granted in 2006 - but doesn't have a proposed finish date or any extra news.

...And Mellow Fungifulness...

Further to my post last week about Lovely Autumn, I'm getting soppy again today. Scared of Chives has sent me some fab pictures of the park all dressed up in its golden finery and the suns's shining. I love Greenwich Park all year round but there's something special about it now that's truly glorious.

I managed to miss out on the chestnuts this year - by the time I got there, they were plump and ripe - but mainly gone - perhaps it's the credit crunch that has made us begin to remember that age-old source of food, wildlife (though no one seems to have tucked into the hundreds of squirrels yet... )

The collection of sweet chestnuts by locals has been going on in Greenwich Park for centuries - though the park keepers now frown on the other age-old tradition of beating the trees 'to encourage growth.' I reckon the second week of October is optimum time for nuts being just about ripe but not already harvested by armies of enterprising Chinese grannies. Better put a note to myself in next year's diary...

But there are other foods to be found in the hedgerows around here (and yes, there are a few still left.) Elderberries have been amazing this year, as have rowans. And the wet weather has brought out the funghi. Dave spotted this strange specimen:

and though I wouldn't be too keen to try it, you never know. I once watched on in horror as someone harvested a giant growth on the side of an oak tree that my mum would have given me a smack for if I'd touched as a child, pronounced it a 'chicken-of-the-woods' and pan-fried it with garlic. It looked far scarier than the above, but you never can tell. And yes - it did taste just like chicken.

To be honest I'm too much of a wuss to take on funghi - there are too many varieties on the wrong end of the yummy/belly-ache scale, but people who would know their chanterelles and ceps from their fly agaric and their death caps are the curious London Foragers who I have written about before. I admire their style, (roast chestnut ice cream - mmmm...) but I'm still not touching any toadstools. Especially not the ones that appeared in my, ahem, rather ancient doormat last week (ick.)

A very good guide to dull-but-tasty versus pretty-but-deadly mushrooms is the UK Safari page, though for clarity I prefer the Northern Ireland Fungus Group's site, which also has good tips for harvesting - I'm guessing the main species will be the same. Cheaper, though perhaps a tad riskier, than the stall on Blackheath Farmers Market...

As Scared of Chives's pic below shows - we have short, crisp days with bright, low sun and breath-catchingly cold walks to look forward to. And they don't cost anything, either...

Children's Parties

Sam asks:

"Do you know any good venues for a kid's party?
We have tried The Forum (too small) and Shrewsbury House (bit out of the way and only available in the afternoons)We need to fit 60+ in the venue."

The Phantom replies:

The very thought of 60+ children in one room chills me to the very bones, Sam - you're a brave woman indeed. But this is also a timely reminder that my Phantom Shindigs page is a little light on the old Kiddies Parties. and could definitely use some expansion.

My first suggestion, the Secret Garden Wildlife Centre in Greenwich Park, is out because of numbers, but Mycenae House might just do you. I've also been thinking about Greenwich West Community Centre , which I believe is bigger than the Forum.

But I'm not well-up on children's party venues and would welcome additions to the page so please chime-in if you have any great ideas.

Good luck with that one, Sam; let me know how you get on. In the meanwhile, I believe ear-plugs are available in most good pharmacies...

Banksy-Lite

Harriet asks:

"Do you know anything about the Banksy style "rat" stencils which appeared a few months ago in East Greenwich? I'm not convinced they're genuine as Banksy doesn't usually put writing on his stuff and they say "Dicky Jones" on them.

Perhaps you put them there. Are you Dicky Jones? There are a couple of rats coming out of the North exit of Maze Hill train station on the brickwork, and there is one on the corner of Old Woolwich Road and East Street...."

The Phantom replies:

Me? Certainly not. If I were going to daub the walls of East Greenwich with derivative art it would be with little baby Phantoms, obviously.

Yeah - these little critters have been popping up all over town, but I confess that I've not been wildly impressed with them. Banksy hit the zeitgeist because he came up with, and continues to come up with witty, fresh material - witness the very fabulous Chicken Nuggets exhibit in Greenwich Village. Anyone doing stencils these days and not coming up with something utterly amazing (rats on street corners? Who'd have thought it...) should be looking for a more original way to express themselves, IMHO. They don't offend me, but neither are they great art.

Of course - if it is Banksy - well, if I were his school art teacher I'd give him 4 out of 10 and write 'must try harder' on his report card...

The Best Nameplate in Greenwich?

Just get this:


It's outside the Greenwich Dance Agency, and a wonderful curiosity. Benedict spotted it and I love it. Who made it? Heven knows? When? ditto. Why? ditto.

Find it on the left hand corner as you face the GDA...

Season Of Mists...

We don't have much of it left, but we have had an amazing Autumn, haven't we, folks. I've tried to get out as much as possible in the last couple of weeks - tried to treat every nice day as if it was the last good day of the year, (one for all you Cousteau* fans there...) - but I suspect our luck is on the edge of running out now.

What I've really noticed this year is that the leaves stayed green for ages (all that rain in Spring and Summer, I guess) but have suddenly turned. Above is a pic I took last Saturday of the lime avenue that runs directly from Rangers House to the Tea Hut, so that the sundry Lord Chesterfields could get themselves a nice cup 'a tea without getting wet...

The mornings are getting mistier, too. This was taken about 10.30am Sunday morning and gives us a glimpse of days to come:

But whatever dank and dark days there may be ahead, we still have the really glorious colour to look forward to. Here's one of Benedict's from last year that I just love:

I know. I'm being a Soppy Old Phantom today. So shoot me...

*not the official video...

Comedy Small Ads

I've long wondered about Sabo, the strange shop-with-nothing-in that lies next door to The Spread Eagle, and which I'm assuming Greenwich Inc. must be desperate to get their paws on, but I'm glad to see is holding out. That particular section of building, with its wonderful pink peeling paintwork, is entitled Albion House for no reason that I can find (like so many of our buildings - no one ever records why things are done.) If anyone knows why this building is called that, I'd love to know.

It's really rather elegant in spite - or perhaps because - of its slightly scruffy look. Neat, sophisticated windows, cute little shop front, odd contents. What more could you ask? How about a little snigger too?

It's ostensibly a newsagents, with odd displays in the window, of single magazines such as Homes and Interiors and Private Eye, and fading local greetings cards, backed by a display of gift wrap on clothes airers. Inside, there are more dusty racks of cards and more mags, and although they're current, they give the impression that this shop has been there since the Ark and probably hasn't changed since antediluvian times, either.

I just love this place. And Benedict points out that although there always seem to be different people in the shop, there are always a pair of them. Two young ladies, two middle-aged men, two elderly ladies...

He also pointed out something that I hadn't noticed before, but now stop to enjoy every time I go by. I am pleased to pass the experience on to you...

That section of postcard small ads in the window. Looks pretty standard, doesn't it. But take another look. Nestled in amongst the real advertisements for second hand guitars and holiday cottages, some wag has tucked in others. Take the top line, for example (you'll probably have to click on this image to see it properly.)

The parachute is marvellous, but don't miss the one to the right - a scratchy, blotchy ad for an ink pen. They carry on down the board, and I like to enjoy one or two every time I stop to look. I don't want to over-gorge on them all at once. I particularly like the ad for the fried egg (ideal for use as a book mark) and the second hand trophy (perfect for anyone called Dave Smith, if memory serves...)

I guess it's one way to make people look at a postcard display. They're a bit faded now, but I would love it if new ones were added occasionally.

Let me know your faves...

The Sammy Ofer Wing

Has anyone made it up to the E-library at the Maritime Museum to see the plans for the new Sammy Ofer Wing? They're requesting feedback, so I dutifully went a few weeks ago. It's taken me a long time to write about it here because I've been trying to work out something really fundamental about the project - its point.

From the exhibition, there is much to be read between the lines. They are clearly on the defensive about the demolition of the old Victorian building that would have to go to make way for the wing. It's an 1870s school kitchen wing, not the most exciting building in the world, but as far as I can see perfectly serviceable.

They make great noise about the new wing being lower-rise than the old, though frankly, in many respects surely that's not the point. You can have a one-storey building that looks less 'in place' than something four stories high if it feels wrong.

So does this new wing 'feel' wrong? Not as architecture, I'd say. It's ok - a perfectly standard modern design. Nothing exciting, nothing offensive. What feels wrong to me is something completely different.

I've been trying to work out what real benefit the museum is going to get from this project. I can't help feeling that they've been given a load of cash, which has to be spent on a 'prestigious' project that can be named after the benefactor, when it might well have been spent more wisely in other, probably less glamorous areas.

Being given £20m by a modern day philanthropist can be a curse as well as a blessing. Sammy Ofer's hardly going to say "Do what you like with this - why don't you make those dodgy warehouses in the backwoods a little bigger and with better facilities? Or you could put on some excellent temporary exhibitions instead of those cheap ones you've had to do recently? Or what about getting a decent screen for the planetarium?" He wants to see something specific - and big - done with his money.

Now, I will admit that there are going to be some new archive facilities in the new wing. But they seem to have been slipped in quietly by people who care, around the circus of visitor 'facilities' that the new build is really about.

I'm not going to be at the barricades over the demolition of slightly (romantically) labyrinthine Victorian building. But I do wonder just how much good the Sammy Ofer Gift Shop, the Sammy Ofer Cafe or even the Sammy Ofer Foyer is really going to do for the presentation of Britain's maritime history. It's already dumbed-down - do we really need a "treasures room" so that people too lazy to see the rest of the exhibits can spend five minutes looking at the highlights?

If you haven't made it to the E-Library yet, you can check out the website here - don't forget to leave your comments.

My own thoughts are that the money is being spent politically rather than practically. That the NMM don't really want a new wing - they'd far rather pay the staff more, shore-up their real archiving facilities and put on exhibitions that are actually good - but what do you when a billionaire wants to give you huge sums of cash?

But maybe I'm being harsh here. What do you think?

Watering Holes (1)

These two items, at the top of Conduit Vale, have always intrigued me - one of the many cattle troughs provided in the 1870s by The Metropolitan Drinking Fountain and Cattle Trough Association for the cows and horses, and a fountain for their drivers.

It seems fairly obvious that they would have been built at the same time, but one of them has weathered a lot better than the other, giving the impression at least that the drinking fountain (which no longer has any taps or plumbing on view) is much older. The funny little iron cross thing (did it hold a lamp, perhaps?) on top has also lost anything that would make it look like it used to be useful.

I'm sure the two are from the same time and that the stones have weathered at different rates, and Neil Rhind in The Heath, implies that they were both erected in 1871. But I can find nothing more about what it would have looked like when it was in use. There are several drinking fountains on the heath, and this one's not nearly as well-preserved as, say, the one at the top of Tranquil Vale.

A few metres away to the east, lies another of those funny

boundary stones which, apparently Neil Rhind discusses in his revised 2002 version of the Heath. Sadly I only have a 1987 copy. I guess I need to get the new one...

Changing Places

From the lunchtime news, and from this article Russell sent me it would seem cash-strapped 2012 officials are considering moving some of the Olympic venues in Greenwich.

But before the park protestors pop any champagne corks, perhaps I should point out that it's the benign gymnastics and badminton tent that's being given the boot - the one that practically no one objected to, not the events that could potentially cause Greenwich park some damage.

The badminton and gym were to have been held in a temporary arena beside the 02 (why aren't they using the 02 itself?) It would have been pretty good - a currently unused site with good transport links and in an area where they couldn't do much more damage to it if they tried. I was actually looking forward to that bit of the London Olympics.

These events are not relocating inside the O2, which would keep it all in the area originally intended, but to Wembley.

Call me a cynic, but this couldn't possibly be because the back of a tent on Greenwich Peninsula wouldn't have made much of a TV backdrop and "saving money" (which is admittedly about forty million) by going to glamorous Wembley will please the world's media, could it? By that jaundiced view, I guess if they were to save some real cash by relocating the Equestrian events to somewhere actually set up for them, they'd have to answer to the TV companies...

The one interesting thing that comes out of this is that when LOCOG tell us that since venues were 'promised' at the Olympic bid, they're somehow set in stone and cannot be changed, they're just not telling the truth...

Deptford X

Robert's asked me to remind you about Deptford X, an art festival going on around Deptford and which is ending soon. I confess I found the publicity, though plentiful, very confusing, until I got hold of a programme, which finally told me what the hell was going on. The Ghost Trade leaflets, which seemed to be everywhere, told me practically nothing, and the website left me puzzled - in it's keeness to tell us about prestigious sponsors it seemed to leave out that vital clue that tells the novice (i.e. me) what it's all about, which is a great shame. I was almost put off going at all.

But I did go and as soon as I hit the first venue and they gave me an actual programme, it was suddenly obvious. I saw about three quarters of it all, and plan to see the rest before it goes.

The best day to do it on is Saturday, because there's an opportunity to climb the extremely narrow and steep stone spiral staircase up St Nicholas Church to view Yinka Shonibare's White Flag at Half Mast. It loses a tiny something in that poor old St Nick's flagpole isn't quite tall enough so it's really White Flag at Full Mast, but I'm not sure I got it anyway, and let's face it, it's worth it just for the view. The people there are very sweet indeed. Down in the crypt there is a brilliant little film - Matt Stokes's Cipher, where two pipe organists play some truly creepy and exciting modern compositions; an example of art and place melding perfectly. I sat for a full minute in silence afterwards - a first for me.

I was also taken by the Dead Art (I'd tell you who did it if I could find it again on the website) and, once I had the programme, by the fun attitude of the organisers. They're having a funeral for it this weekend.

It's been a successful festival, and the great Deptford Project train cafe has somehow managed to polarise it. I managed to eat there three times last week.

But Deptford X have to do something about their publicity. To me - no art critic, but someone who likes to see art - it was confusing and difficult to work out when and how to see it. Frankly the irony of the The Ding Dong Twist Club which "gently mocks the elitism of art fairs with its inhospitable Hospitality Complex," was that I couldn't work out how to bloomin' get there and missed out entirely on being treated inhospitably.

This must sound like I didn't like it. That's so not true. The actual art is great. I just couldn't work out the publicity. Maybe I'm just getting old. But do try to get to see it. Go to one venue, and all will be revealed.

Plane Speaking

Sonya's been kept awake by plane noise and wonders if everyone else is too. She writes:

"As a home owner in Greenwich, I am surprised and troubled by the plane noise over our lovely part of London. I have searched online and have registered my protest on HACAN, Plane Stupid etc. but searching on the internet I cannot find a Greenwich group that are protesting and putting forward the views of residents who strongly oppose the current noise pollution from planes overhead and any increase in the aircraft over Greenwich. Currently the planes start approx 04.30am and last until approx 11.45pm.

LCY now have the go ahead to increase their flights as do Stansted. LHR have proposed a 3rd runway but what could be even worse for Greenwich is the proposed 'all day take off and landing' on each of the 2 existing runways at LHR, which is expected to increase capacity for LHR to an extra 60,000 flights per year! And guess what - when you look at the proposed flight path for this new all day flight plan on the 2 existing runways it means of the additional 60,000 flights in and out..... 30,000 flights extra will be over Greenwich!

I am left to wonder if residents here are even bothered as I did mention to one resident a couple of streets away from me (West Greenwich) that I needed double glazing to cope with the plane noise as we are under a flight path.... he looked at me and said seriously 'what do you mean we are under a flight path'??? Like hello!

Are there any local govt representatives who are fighting this cause? Other councils such as Wandsworth for example have dedicated pages on their website to protest against any increase in plane noise over their Wandsworth residents... http://www.wandsworth.gov.uk/Home/MyWandsworth/Newsextra/2mgroup.htm#yoursay Why don't we have the same?

We are a world heritage site, one that is being widely promoted for the 2012 Olympics, surely our area should not be subjected to the constant onslaught of plane noise?"

We have discussed aircraft noise several times before - and I know a lot of people do get upset about the din - especially helicopters that use us as a holding pattern before getting permission to fly over Canary Wharf and into central London.

I confess that apart from one particular night when what sounded like a chinook but was probably just a police chopper targeting some ne'er-do-well hovered over what was probably Blackheath Standard but might have been Charlton or East Greenwich for what seemed like an hour, I don't get particularly upset by aircraft noise. I tend to think that if I choose to live in London, within a couple of miles of an airport, what can I expect...

Would I like less noise? Of course. Am I going to fight for it? Probably not. Everyone has a button which brings them out in a red mist, and though I don't specially care for the racket, my particular buttons are probably more with other aspects of 2012.

But I'm guessing I'm pretty much alone here. I suspect that most people are with Sonya. If my suspicions are correct and I am a lone Phantom, is there such a plane-noise abatement group round here?

I'd be really interested to know just how much of an issue this is for people. Don't be shy, guys, give it to me straight...

Monsters Of The Deep.

I know this looks like the world's crappiest photo - and yes, I guess it nearly is - except that I took three more that were all worse than this. There is a reason for it though, honest...

I don't often go off-topic and write about things other than Greenwich - and even if I do, they usually have a Greenwich theme or are great 'days out.' I have no real excuse for including this other than it's fantastic, Thames-ish and there's only a week left of it. And since our trains go there, and lots of people work around London Bridge, I'm sort-of counting it as a Lovely Thing to see on your way home...

Drift is the first annual art exhibition on the Thames - large-scale projects free for all to view. It's been on a couple of weeks but I hadn't been wildly impressed with most of the exhibits I'd seen up to Friday. They weren't bad art (there is a lot of Bad Art about), just not exciting. There was a shiny wavery board floating by the Millennium Bridge, and some sounds played on the bridge (when I was there, the 'seagulls' meant to "disorientate passers-by" were drowned out by the real thing. Now if there had been cows mooing and pastural sounds of goatherds yodelling through the mountains - now then I'd have been disoriented..) a decorated buoy and a rather nice, but slightly promising-more-than-it-delivered laser 'bridge' reaching across those ghost piers by the modern Blackfriars one. I liked it all well enough but not enough to break Greenwich rank and write about it.

That was before I saw the monsters.

Walk to the north end of London Bridge and look over the western edge at dusk. I got there around 6.30pm and it was a bit early, the sun wasn't quite down yet, but I like to think that part of the art is staring into the murk and thinking you can see sea monsters.

As it gets darker, a series of projectors start to show CGI mythical creatures of the deep swimming around 'under' the water, diving, coming to the surface, intertwining with each other, racing each other, then disappearing down agai