Last Sunday I finally made it to the Planetarium. I know, I know, it’s been what – five years and I live – what – twenty minute’s lazy walk away? But yeah, it’s very easy to live near things people travel across the world to see and just never get around to actually going.

I was quite surprised by the price – £6.50 for adults. For some reason I had thought it was much more than that – my memory tells me around the £12.50 rate, but hey – I wasn’t complaining, and since I’d mentally already spent that, I decided to go to see both shows, back to back.

I don’t know whether it was because it was a rainy Sunday but the place was really quite busy. I’d been told to turn up about ten minutes before the show started to get a good seat, but by that time the queue outside was already snaking around itself several times. It wasn’t an issue – there was plenty of space, although I’m not convinced that with the configuration they’ve chosen – a conventional cinema style, with all the seats facing in one direction rather than the traditional rows in a circle round the edge – you’d get much of a view from the front. Maybe I’ll try it some time.

I confess I find that cinema-style seating a bit offputting. I loved the old fashioned circle-rows they used to have in the cute little planetarium upstairs and it just feels a bit odd to have a 360°, domed screen with directional seating. I was to find out later why they’ve gone for that style, but I’m still not convinced it works.

Still, it’s fresh and modern and they have saved what is to my mind the most important thing about the Royal Observatory Planetarium, the thing which made it stand out from the other, more commercial versions (including the much-missed London Planetarium – my, how the mighty have fallen there…) and makes Greenwich special.

And that thing?

Live commentary from real astronomers who will guide you through the sky and then answer questions afterwards. The first Greenwich Planetarium show I ever went to, there was a guy who looked like he had stepped off the set of Apollo 13 – short sleeved shirt, knitted tie, black-rimmed glasses –  and I thought he was great. I couldn’t believe that someone that important had taken time off from being a scientist to talk to me.

I was a weird kid.*

These days the astronomers are much younger – and cooler. So trendy, in fact, that at first I did wonder whether they’d just got an all-purpose tour guide to run the show, but the fact that he was prepared to answer questions afterwards made me think they do still employ people who know what they’re talking about.

So – I was in for the long haul. Two shows.

The Sky Tonight Live is pretty much what you’d expect it to be, a guided tour round what you might be able to see if you go outside at about 9.00pm on the day you go to the show (if there’s no cloud and the light pollution’s not too bad). I love the immediacy of that – that it’s been tailored for ‘tonight’ (though obviously the night sky only changes slowly, so they do have time to change the spiel). I really loved the way it starts out with a projection of the Observatory during the day and gradually gets darker; it  felt very specific to me and where I live. In fact the whole talk – clear, simple enough for everyone to understand but still with a nice amount of stuff I didn’t know (I was particularly impressed to know that Saturn’s rings are only about the size of a four-storey building) – and was specific to Greenwich – fair enough for tourists, lovely for locals.

The astronomer was personable, engaging and, if his gags were clearly of the variety he uses every show, why not. There aren’t going to be many people who do what I did, and, as they exit, immediately join the queue for the next show.

The next show was a new one (though since I didn’t know the old ones, I hadn’t been aware of that.)

Across the Universe is the story of the Voyager probes – sent to investigate the Sun’s planets and though now, having finished their mission, are spinning out into deep space still sending back fascinating data. This is more like a conventional movie. The resident astronomer is pretty much a glorifed usherette here – explaining the fire regulations and telling people not to turn off their mobile phones (“we’re underneath 45 tonnes of bronze here…”) so it’s a bit jarring, after having been used to human-level volume, when he turns on the film and a giant recorded voice booms out.

This is where the forward-facing seats come in as although they use the whole dome in an IMAX-y sort of way, it’s mainly stuff you look straight ahead to.

For me the strength of this show is the subject matter. I enjoyed it all because it really is amazing stuff, the figures, data and images are jaw-dropping – and, okay, I admit it, I like looking at big pictures, which is why I went to see Mission Impossible III at the Waterloo IMAX. But it didn’t engage me the way the live presentation did, and some of the CGI looked a bit like the sort of thing you’d see on a teenage Sci-fi fan’s bedroom wall circa 1980.

I guess that’s always going to be the problem with recorded shows – the human interaction just isn’t there. All the way through, despite the fascinating information, I was aware that there was a real live astronomer sitting behind me, twiddling his thumbs when he could be talking to us.

That’s not to say this isn’t a good show. I did enjoy it and I’d take someone else. But for my money if you’re only going to one show at the Planetarium, go to the Sky Tonight Live.

I have one last suggestion for the planetarium guys on the Sky Tonight Live. Given we live in such a badly light-polluted area, rather than just telling us that fewer stars will be able to be seen, perhaps you could show us, at the end,  what we REALLY might see in the sky (if it’s cloudless), complete with sodium-orange glow, so that we can mentally eliminate what we won’t be seeing and concentrate on what we will?

Tell you what, though. The Planetarium is still really excellent entertainment, especially for a rainy afternoon and given the weather forecast for the foreseeable future, I highly recommend you take a trip, it’s not just for kids. Details here.

*I felt the same sort of awe when I went to the Kennedy Space Centre and was shown round by a real, live astronaut. No one I’d heard of, obviously, but an astronaut…

Rod's lovely pic of St Alfege again...

They probably could have had better weather for the Big Day, but at least at the moment it’s not raining and hopefully it shouldn’t bog down all weekend for the St Alfege commemoration events.

Yes, folks – one thousand years today since our own local saint for local people was martyred. There’s much going on, including a sell-out service (bet they can’t say that phrase too often…) with the outgoing Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, who will, presumably be keeping a beady eye on the living history Viking Camp (complete with longboat) in the park. Should be quite an eyeful.

Full details on the St Alfege Church website and I am sure there will be photographs a-go-go on the usual sites – keep a particular lookout on Greenwich dotcodotuk and IanVisitswho I’m sure will both get there before me…

I’ve been meaning to talk about this at-first-rather-dull-looking building for some time. It is, of course, the church hall of St Alfege, and anyone who’s been inside will recognise the classic traditional British church hall as seen up and down the country. Slightly scruffy cream walls? Check. Low stage, filled with sundry stored stuff? Check. Old fashioned loos? Check. Noticeboard for sundry Stuff Going On? Check. Comforting, lingering aroma of tea urn and custard creams? Check.

But unlike most church halls, this one has a whole previous history of its own, and much as with the delightful transformation of the Old Brewery (not much younger) into – well, a brewery, actually, the old place is just being used again for purposes not a million miles from its original concept.

We need to go back much further than 1815, though, when the building was first opened, to find its source.

1640, actually, when a dashing Cavalier (‘wrong but romantic,’ if I recall, from my copy of 1066 And All That…)  John Roan (yeah, him – we’ll actually get to him one day…) was caught red handed recruiting soldiers for the King’s Army by Oliver Cromwell’s lot (‘right but rotten…’), flung in jail and ’stripped of all he had and in great necessity and want, ready to starve’. His brother refused to have anything to do with him, so it was up to his mate Richard Wakeham, to bust him out of stir (well, okay, ‘obtain his release…’)

When he died, he didn’t forget Wakeham, and being childless himself, he left his cash to his wife and Wakeham’s daughters, and to set up a fund to educate poor children of Greenwich.

Of course, ‘children’ in those days meant ‘boys’ and although the fund snowballed into a charity that every Greenwich person of quality wanted to be seen to support, the school that was set up in Roan’s name was very much single-sex.

It took until 1814 for the vicar, George Matthew, presumably bearing in mind Roan’s bequest to Wakeham’s daughters, suggested the radical idea of educating poor girls too. I guess it’s a sign of the go-for-it  times that it only took a year to find £130 from the Roan Estate and open the National School of Industry and Excellence for Girls – what was to eventually become the Roan School for Girls.

If you look a little closer at the church hall, it begins to become clearer that at least part of it is is Georgian. Plain Georgian, I’ll agree – no Regency stucco or elegant columns here – but honest, solid Georgian nonetheless.

Obviously no one expected girls to be able to understand complicated things like boys could, which is where the ‘industry and excellence’ bit comes in. Poor girls were taught the sort of things they needed to work for a living – which in this case, mainly meant needlework. I am told that that’s the reason why there are so many large windows in the place – to allow natural light to enter.

The Roan Schools went from strength to strength. Sheer numbers soon outgrew the original building, and were moved to new premises. By 1653 there were 630 boys and girls being educated by Roan.

The building, being so close to the church, made an ideal church hall, and thus it has been ever since, serving the parish when needed and being hired out at other times.

And now, they have a new hirer. Sewing Time will be there every Tuesday, teaching if not the same, very similar skills – sewing, knitting, crochet and embroidery – to all comers (men included this time) on a pay as you go club every Tuesday.

So the wheel turns. It just leaves me with one question.

National?

Local – of course. But what part of the Greenwich National School of Industry and Excellence for Girls was national?

In the virtual mail this morning I learned a little more about Greenwich Mural Workshop’s latest project – not made from paint or mosaic this time, but of memories. The Charlton Parks Reminiscence Project has been going for some months now, and since it’s about half-way through, they’re holding a special open day to share what they’ve found out so far.

They’re especially keen to talk with people who have lived in the area for many years and they’ve already unearthed some great stories, maps, history – and ‘new’ old photos of the area, including the opening of Maryon Park in 1909. This is clearly not it (you’ll have to go to the open day to see that) but who can resist country dancing?

There’s still lots of time to get involved, whether you’re interested in training as a volunteer archivist/interviewer/recorder/editor, helping to create an interactive website or just telling people about some of the things that happened in Charlton to you. Perhaps you’re one of the kiddies in this picture of the doughty Mrs Etherington, her tubby chum and the Exmoor ponies…

…or you remember a time when Charlton Lido was actually open.

Whichever, the open day looks like a fascinating experience. It’s on Saturday, 1st October, in the old library at Charlton House itself, between 1-4pm.

While you’re there, make sure you pick up a copy of what I received in the real post this morning, sent by Steve (thanks, Steve – and a doff of the tricorn to the Phantom Webmaster for forwarding it…), a handy little colour booklet, The Gardens at Charlton House which, had I had a copy back in July, I wouldn’t have publicly made an ass of myself by not knowing that the strange Mystery Obelisk in Charlton House’s back yard is actually a real ancient Roman stone, the sole survivor of a whole garden full of ornaments, presumably also looted from Sir Thomas Maryon Wilson’s Grand Tour, and somewhat arcanely decorated with a lizard, scorpion, two snakes, a crab and an urn. D’oh… Why didn’t I get it? The laurel tree next to it should have a clue.

Ah, well. I no longer need to be a Charlton ignoramus. I can go to the Charlton Parks Reminiscence Project’s Open Day, pore over maps, listen to interviews and see newly-discovered photos –  and pick up a spare copy of The Gardens at Charlton House. Both, I understand are free.

A brief one today and something that by rights should go in the Parish News but over the past week I’ve come across three local groups I like the look of, so, given the nights are drawing in and it’s the time for starting new hobbies, making your own fun or just consuming hot food with friends, I’m going to talk about them today.

Okay – first of all Magnetic North. Everyone has a novel in them. Some actually get down to writing them. And Magnetic North is our friendly local writers group. They don’t just cover novels, of course. Poetry and non-fic are welcome too – and they get results.

I heard about it from Elizabeth, whose travelogue Travels in Blood and Honey; becoming a beekeeper in Kosovo has just been published by Signal Books.

It’s her account of two and a half years living in Kosovo, apprenticed to a beekeeper, working with and learning from apiarists in projects ranging from resettled guerilla fighters to trafficked women. Sounds like someone Robert should be interviewing in his Full English to me…

Magnetic North was instrumental in Elizabeth’s writing process. She says “every week I took the latest chapter along to the group and they ripped it to pieces and helped me put it back together again,” which sounds like the sort of feedback you need when you’re writing a book.

So here’s the deal. Elizabeth says

“Magnetic North is open to new members and no, there is no entry requirement. It’s a very welcoming and unintimidating space for writers old and new. We have students from Greenwich University, a number of people doing MAs in creative writing, retired people, men and women with years of writing experience and those just starting out. The genres are equally diverse. We’ve had some erotic fiction, a lot of poetry, quite a few travel writers, some short stories, full-length fiction, screen plays… pretty much everything. Our quorum is 4 and we have a changing membership list currently standing at sixteen. People bring something to read and then receive very honest feedback from the others. We meet at 7.30 for a couple of hours every Monday.”

If your creativity is in a different thread, someone told me about the Pelton Arms knitting group while I was at a Los Dawsons gig (watch out for them this weekend at The British Oak Saturday, Chu and Cho, Sunday.)

I love this pub. It is a fabulous example of a grubby old boozer that by sheer dint of hard work and imagination on the part of the guvnor is now a magnet for the local community. It has a PROPER pub garden with greenery and niceness rather than some nasty concrete back yard full of cig butts, it has a cosy interior and Good Stuff going on practically every day, ranging from quizzes and bands to poker nights and DJs.

The knitters (I am very glad to see they don’t call themselves ‘Stitch and Bitch’ – a vile name) rather handily meet on ‘Pay What You Think It’s Worth’ night – Wednesdays where you eat your meal then just pay…well the title says it all.) All welcome, even beginners, help available with casting on purling and knitting, knitting and purling and whatever else knitting involves.

Finally, Greenwich Curry Club. It’s really a review blog for Indian restaurants, which has expanded way beyond the realms of Greenwich itself and has an archive almost as arcane as my own (you need to type the name of the restaurant into the search function, rather than click on it down the sidebar) but the original club still meets regularly and welcomes new members as long as they love curry and don’t do a runner before the bill’s paid.

They’re currently running a poll for the Greenwich Curry Club Awards (there’s a link from the front page of the website) and although none of my favourite Greenwich curry houses have made the shortlist I have dutifully voted for what’s there…

So – no complaining you have nothing to do this autumn, okay…

Can’t wait for the Cable Car and the Sky Walk? Look no further than these virtural tours. They made me feel a bit queasy, m’self especially on the descent from the cable car, and with all the virtual skyscrapers they’ve included I find myself thinking that if you wanted a really high view you’d be better off chatting up the owner of one of the penthouses, but hey – I’m still going to give ‘em a try…

For some reason they are failing to arrive as embedded vids, so here they are in good old web-address form:

Cable Car Virtual trip:

http://www.youtube.com/user/HattonAssociates

O2 Skywalk Virtual trip:

http://www.youtube.com/user/HattonAssociates#p/a/u/0/a7dop8gBNQI

A post of bits today, folks.  Stuff’s going on just now, and while none of it really seems worth a post on its own, it’s all mildly interesting. I warn you now I am in a ridiculously optimistic mood.

The Greenwich Book Time remaindered bookshop, for example. It  really has closed now, after months of threatening to do so. But there are guys busy-beevering away in there, so my money’s on them re-opening after a refit – I hope so, otherwise what are legions of us to do before we go to the Picturehouse of an evening? I also notice that there are people hard at work in the old Sonia’s deli-cafe down Traf Road, dunno what that will be. And I still haven’t made it into L’Artisan French deli a few doors down, shame on me, since I’ve had good reports. I’ve just also had the Real Work piling up.

Next I notice that the Squeeze plaque on the side of the Borough Hall has disappeared again. What’s gone on there? Does anyone know? I thought they’d dealt with the listing/permission issue. But my obscenely cheerful mood is telling me that I’m sure it’s just gone for polishing or something.

There’s something on the air at the moment, and for once, given that this is Greenwich, traditionally associated with horrid odours, it’s heavenly. I always assumed that roses or something similarly gardenish created the best perfume in the world, but I have come to regard the blossom of the lime trees lining pretty much every street in Greenwich as being my own personal favourite – sweet but not cloying, heady but not overpowering. And this year, it’s intoxicating. You can smell it all over the place just now, it’s hanging on the air, but among the best places I’ve found for just standing underneath and breathing in are:

• The tree at the St Mary’s Gate entrance of Greenwich Park (pictured)
• Outside the flats on the Trafalgar Estate (must make the apartments very dark, but they’ll smell fabulous)
• Along the gates to Devonport House, near the Grisly Altar of Doom (avert your eyes – however shocking that such heavenly perfume should be,  pervading such utter evil…)
• And, of course, along by the Maritime Museum and elsewhere in the park. Stand beneath these trees and love Greenwich. You’ll have the added benefit today of staying dry.

I am very excited about Rob’s news that The O2 could get its own skywalk. I’ll be first up there. And although Darryl is right to worry that the Thames Path will be closed yet again for the cable car, despite the funding not being there yet, I am in a merry mood today and I am therefore assuming they know something we don’t and that August 1st will see not only the path closed but work beginning on the super-fast erection of a cable car that will, apparently whip us to Albert Dock in an instant (they’re even saying that they’ll let bikes on, Darryl, though someone I know ‘in the transport world’ sniffed cynically when I mentioned this to him. But Boris has said bikes, and I always believe everything he says, so pah to nay-sayers.) We should be able to do three high East London things in a day – the skywalk, followed by the cable car, followed by the mad Hubble Bubble tower in the Olympics. Yo!

And – heavens to Murgatroyd! Look at this. From the surroundings, I think Tony took this at Westcombe Park – but could it be that Southeastern have actually done something about the suggestion I made a couple of months ago about notifying passengers about train lengths?

One last observation. Doesn’t the Mitre look good at the moment? I began to worry when the squirly topiary went brown, but they’ve done themselves proud with the flowers:

Apologies for the cheerfulness. My medication is late this morning.

Okay – this is an example of a press release being its own worst enemy. It was also the moment when the term ‘pop-up’ became officially overused.

What’s so annoying is that this doesn’t need to call itself anything ‘cool’ to get attention.  It’s an absolutely brilliant idea that stands by itself without gimmicks.

*

Right, so we need to take ourselves back three hundred and eight  wibbly-wobbly years to November 1703 and the worst storm the British Isles has ever seen. Entire forests were destroyed, ships were sunk, the Eddystone Lighthouse blown down entirely and John Evelyn’s garden left  in a right old mess.

The country was in mourning at the loss of life – and none more than the good citizens of Greenwich, Deptford and Woolwich who had not only seen the products of their shipbuilding labour sent to Davy Jones’s locker, but many of their own, gone for sailors and fishermen.

1707 saw further misery. The Woolwich-built Devonshire was blown up by the dastardly French, losing many local sailors. Then,just  two weeks later,  Sir Cloudesley Shovell lost, with in minutes, three ships on the rocks in the Scilly Isles. Yet more local bereavement.

It took a further four years of misery before the final insult. At 4.00am on the 29th November 1710, the roof of St Alphege’s church caved in without warning,  no doubt  aided by the storms, though it would seem a faulty pillar in the middle was the ultimate culprit. Monuments were smashed, graves ruined and the walls broken beyond repair.

It was going to cost six thousand pounds to fix the mess. Greenwich was a poor town ever since being abandoned by the court.  There was nothing for it. The people decided to go, cap in hand, to Parliament. What resulted was better than they could have imagined.

February 1711 saw the start of A Case of the Inhabitants of Greenwich, where they lay out their case.

They told Parliament how the wealthy residents of old had pretty much abandoned them when the court moved, and those who remained had places elsewhere and no real love for the town. Nine-tenths of the population lived off the river, and the tradesmen left in the town had been ground down from years of giving credit to the rich guys who’d now scarpered. With the recent shipwrecks there were now over 3,000 widows and children dependent on the Parish. Where were they going to get six grand from?

Parliament listened. And then some. On the 12th June, 1711, Parliament passed an Act for the building of not just one but fifty new churches in London. That only a fraction of that number actually got built should not detract from the vision, though how much the good burghers of Greenwich appreciated the new Coal Tax that was going to pay for it is not recorded.

But – huzzah – St Alphege was to be the first. I’m not going to go into the whole Hawksmoor thing now, because this post isn’t about that, it’s about a fantastic idea for a new walk. The fact that I cannot find any way to deem it ‘pop-up’ ( I just don’t buy any of the arguments on the website, especially the ‘you choose how to follow it’ one – that’s a fancy word for ‘self-guided’)  doesn’t take away from the great idea.

Basically, the 1711 is eleven short strolls combined into  One Walk to Rule Them All, following, over fifteen and a half miles, only routes available in that year, and encompassing all twelve of the churches built as a result of the Act (well, eleven and a ruin).  It was devised by barrister Peter Dodge and it’s in aid of a new ring-fenced fund to preserve the churches as a group – or at least the nine still being used for worship (I don’t know if the other three have to fend for themselves?)

It’s being launched on the 12th June, the exact anniversary of the passing of the Act, after an 8.00am service at St Alphege. No one’s going to marshall it, but presumably there will be a whole bunch of people doing the walk so you can probably just join in with them.

What you’ll need to do is purchase a specially-created, destined-for-instant-collectableship, Guide, which is designed in 18th Century style using the original street names and sounds utterly amazing – it’s only £2.95+ P&P and the money goes to the fund. Bargain – but be quick, there are only going to be 500 of them and Boris is already first in the queue.

So, folks – 12th June in your diaries, now, okay. Though of course, it’s being ‘pop-up’ means you can do it any time you like…

Lynne asks:

Wondered if you could recommend any boats that go from Greenwich for a 3-4hr evening cruise.  Looking to organise a summer works ‘do’ for around 80 people – exclusive hire would be too much i think, so would be looking for a joint or shared option.  Preferably with the option of food and dancing.  Have had a quick search but there seems to be so many companies/boats i was hoping a recommendation or two would cut down the search a bit!!

Definitely one to throw open to the floor here. Disco cruises are not my cup of tea at all,  so I need your help on this. I did once have a very civilized meal on the Silver Sturgeon, and the entire Silver Fleet seems to be around the top end of the market (hence my never getting to try it again…) but you’re right, there are dozens of cruises available (I didn’t realise just how many until I looked just now), absolutely none of which I’ve tried.

The Dixie Queen with its jolly faux-riverboat brassiness is at least recogniseable, the others I can’t even bring to mind. In cases like this I often fall back on Trip Advisor, which does appear to have some discussions in its forums about river cruises, though I didn’t see one specifically about food and dancing.

But I know what Lynne means – getting a recommendation from a Phantophile who’s been there, danced that, got the glitter ball, will be the best thing.

Or you could just get a Rover ticket on the Clipper and bring a ghetto blaster…

BTW apparently the world’s largest private cruise ship, appropriately-named The World, will be docking at Greenwich between 4-8th June. The cruisers live on board for a whole year in their own apartments. Paydirt for market stallholders, then.

I always forget we’ve got our very own camera obscura here in Greenwich. There aren’t many of them in London (though I discovered whilst looking up stuff for this post that there’s one in the playground at the Michael Faraday primary school in Elephant & Castle, which makes a change from the manky painted football pitch at my own school…) though if you’re going to have one, the Observatory seems like the obvious place.

Perhaps the reason why there aren’t that many around in England is that there aren’t too days on which they actually work very well. To get the most out of one you need a really sunny day and a really dark room, and in Greenwich it’s hard to get either, or at least together.

In the summer there’s plenty of sun, but there’s also plenty of tourists, flapping in and out of the place, which means it never gets dark enough. In the winter there’s fewer people barging in, but there’s also less sun.

But I guess our camera obscura’s biggest weakness is also a strength if it goes some way to showing us the sort of conditions great painters like Vermeer and Canaletto had to put up with when creating their masterpieces of London (the NMM website tells me that Canaletto used such a device to get the perspective right when he painted Greenwich Hospital.)

They work in a simple but clever way. The term literally means “darkened chamber” and if you ever did that thing with a shoebox and a pinhole when you were a kid it works in exactly the same way – only the Greenwich ‘shoebox’ was clearly for seven-league boots, has the pinhole in the roof and projects the image onto a big table via a mirror:

You have to wait for your eyes to adjust to get the image, even on a bright day, even without people swooshing in and out (the double curtain just doesn’t work very well) but you do get an eerie panorama of the Queen’s House if you stand there long enough:

The building the device lives in is worth a mention – it’s a lovely little summer house, which, I suspect, was used to entertain bigwig visitors in days of yore. It forms part of the ‘cute’ bit of the Observatory, right on the Northern edge by the railings, (next to the ghastly grey snack van, which is still parked in the best viewing position, tut…) Just outside, on one of the walls, lives Halley’s tombstone, nicked from St Mary’s church in Lee (the one in the graveyard is a fake.)

Don’t know about you, but I hardly ever make it to the Observatory in the summer, but one of the joys of living here is that when the winter months arrive and the visitor numbers reach more manageable levels, crunching through the fallen leaves on a sparkling Autumn day is a special pleasure. And if the day is bright enough you might even see something in the camera obscura…