Another day, another St Alfege Anniversary. I guess there were so many other anniversaries going on in 2011 when it was the anniversary of an incendiary bomb lodging itself in the rafters of the church, setting fire to the roof, which collapsed into the nave, causing the mess in the picture above that it’s understandable they’ve chosen to acknowledge the restoration date instead.

Somewhere in that lot is the organ – which had just been restored – and which still had the original pipes that Thomas Tallis would have known when he was organist. It must have been a fair old shock for the poor Greenwich folk who were underneath the rubble in the photo, though thankfully also under another layer – sheltering in the crypt while the air raid was happening.

The church stayed a burned out shell until the war ended when the War Damage Commission was allocated £8,000 to restore it. If you think that’s low, £5,000 of that money was ring-fenced for the organ…

The work, led by Albert Edward Richardson, a Georgian architecture nut who was to go on to become president of the RA and founder of the Georgian Group. He was an ideal choice at a time when to be into 18th Century Architecture was rare – many historic buildings were merely being torn down and rebuilt in modern style. St Alfege escaped that fate and was restored, as far as possible, to Hawksmoor’s design and using, wherever Richardson could, the original materials, reinstated and blended with the new – again, not something common in the mid 20th Century.

The present congration are probably grateful for the little concession to modernity that Richardson did allow – underfloor heating. The only thing that just couldn’t be replicated in its original intricacy was the pulpit – but then it was by Grinling Gibbons who was a genius and you can’t replicate genius.

All the time that the church was being restored, one aisle under the North Gallery was partitioned off to become a ‘church within a church’. It was used for services, weddings, baptisms, funerals – everything – until the Bishop of Southwark rededicated the church of St Alfege on 18th April 1953. The church was originally dedicated on the 29th September and the current parishioners are using the period in between the two dates to create a collection of memories and memorabilia of the time.

They’re looking for people with memories, anecdotes, photos – anything to do with the Blitz and its aftermath. From anyone who might remember sheltering in the crypt while the bombs whistled overhead, to people who might have been christened, got married or worshipped in the church within a church, whose relatives or friends might have worked on the restoration or even gone to the rededication ceremony.

If you’ve got any info, Jenny Bracey, the church administrator, would love to hear from you. Email her at
jenny.bracey@st-alfege.org.uk, telephone at 020 8853 0687 or write to St Alfege Church, Greenwich Church Street, London SE10 9BJ.

While we’re on the subject, I notice that Stephen of Blitzwalkers is running another of his hugely popular walks on Sunday 19th May. The usual rules apply – meet at All Saints Church at 11 a.m., and finish at St Alfege’s Church two and a half hours later. Pre-booking at www.blitzwalkers.co.uk or you can simply bowl up on the day. The cost is £9 per head.

This dashing chap is Flt Lt Richard Carew Reynell, an Australian WWII fighter pilot who fought – and died – on the 7^th September 1940, the first day of the London Blitz over Greenwich.

I’m talking about him today because one of our furthest-flung phantophiles, Andrew Rennie, over in Australia himself, is in the process of writing a book about Richard Reynell and he’s hoping some people here might be able to help him with a little background research.

There’s no point in reinventing the wheel, so I’m going to let Andrew tell you about  Richard ‘Dickie’ Reynell himself:

Richard Reynell was an Australian born at Reynella South Australia, where his family owned large winery estates. Richard came to Britain in 1929 to study at Oxford, but ended up joining the RAF.

On the 7th September 1940 Richard Reynell was stationed with No 43 Squadron flying Hawker Hurricanes from RAF Tangmere near Chichester. Richard was a pre war pilot with No 43 Squadron and at this time was employed as a test pilot by Hawker Aircraft. He had come back to the squadron two weeks previously to look at the attributes of the Hawker Hurricane in combat conditions and had shot down an enemy aircraft by this time and a number of probables.

Richard attacked the bombers with his Squadron Leader all the way from Beachy Head to London. At approximately 5.00 PM he was shot down over Greenwich. Dickie Reynell did not bale out but was blown out of his hurricane. The Hurricane (V7257) itself was blown into three pieces with the engine going through the roof of St Ursula’s Convent which set the building on fire.

Andrew’s been aided in his research by Dickie’s granddaughter,  niece and cousin, with whom he grew up. They have lent him hundreds of photographs from all phases of Dick’s life and many documents. These include, amongst others, the diaries of Dick’s father who was killed at Gallipoli and Dick’s own Pilot’s Logbook.

Andrew’s also contacted members of Dick’s ground crew who served with him at No. 43 Squadron at Tangmere and says he has  also ‘had the pleasure to talk to Sgt. Charles Pallsier (as he was then), who put down his survival of the Battle of Britain to the training in the flying of the Hurricane, that Dick gave him when he arrived at No. 43 Squadron.’

What he’s think on the ground for though, is eye witness accounts of the night itself, from Greenwich locals, and he’s hoping that somebody here may have witnessed the astonishing events of September 7th, or have family stories that have been passed down about it. Perhaps some old convent girls?

If you do and you’d like to talk to Andrew, drop me a line and I’ll pass you on to him. I look forward to seeing the results.

I’ve recently been going though all 14,000-odd comments from the old blog, which got ‘lost’ when I moved to WordPress last year (now viewable only from the moderator’s dashboard in Blogger), to see if there’s a way I might be able to make the really excellent ones accessible again (there’s no way I’m individually putting every single one onto the new platform, so there. Especially the flaming. Oh, the flaming…)

I’ve been re-struck by just how many brilliant comments there are (even some of the flames are funny). I have 108 pages of the ones I’d like to do something with – that’s a good couple of thousand. Opinions, research where someone’s continued poking after I’ve part-dug-up something odd, a couple of hundred of the ‘I think you’ll find…’ variety and memories. Some fascinating, some illuminating, some revealing and some – well, some are just plain charming.

I want to start the Christmas week by sharing one of my favourites with you – a seasonal memory from Marion, who as a very small, frightened child worried about her father, who was a policeman in R (Greenwich) Division during the dark days of the Blitz.

One of his less-enjoyable duties was to stand overnight guard at Greenwich Observatory watching for Bad People, most, but not all of whom, involved the Luftwaffe. Apart from the constant danger of air raids, solitude and the sheer creepy, spookiness of Greenwich Park in the middle of the night, what bothered young Marion most was the weather her daddy would have to stand outside in – the icy wind, the freezing snow, the frosty air.

So, to put her mind at rest her dad told her how, on the coldest night of the year, when he was standing all alone at the top of the hill, General Wolfe clambered down from his plinth and said

“Here, Jack. It’s perishing cold. Take my cloak.”

Marion remembers that she utterly believed him.

And so do I…

David says:

I live in Maze Hill (specifically around Tuskar/Frobisher Street). Every now and then I get woken at 7am in the week by what I can only describe as a WW2 air raid siren.

Ive gone through the possibilities in my head….Maybe a novelty alarm clock in the flat above; maybe post traumatic stress disorder passed down through 2 generations to me, and my clear favourite; that someone actually has a WW2 air raid siren in their back garden….

Could it be a factory alarm or something? I need to know if anyone else hears it….I need to know what it is…. You may be able to tell it’s driving me a little bit mad!!!

The Phantom replies:

You’re not going mad, David, I’ve heard it too, though until you mentioned it I thought I was going doolally as no one else admitted to hearing it. I have no idea what it is, but it does sound exactly like a WWII warning siren. Here it is for anyone who doesn’t know what I mean:

Now I know I’m not imagining things and it must be real I can’t help feeling it must give a few local pensioners a bit of a scare. There’s never an all-clear…

Anyone know what this siren is? Blitzwalker Stephen, perhaps? (whose latest walk is Bank Holiday Monday, btw – see Parish News for details…)

In the meanwhile, you know the drill. Do not rush, take cover quietly then others will do the same.

June asks:

I was born in Greenwich and grew up in Circus Street. I now live down on the coast near Dungeness. I remember my Dad telling me about a tunnel that went from somewhere near the swing park up to Blackheath. It was supposedly used during the war. I have searched on the net but can find nothing about it. Do you know of it at all?

Jack asks:

I have tried everywhere for info about the Greenwich Hospital in Greenwich Park     During the war it was used as an air raid shelter by the local residents my wife being one of those.    Can you help  me please?

I think it’s time to discuss the role of Greenwich Park in the war again… Happily I had a good chat with Dominic of the exemplary Subterranean Greenwich And Kent some time ago about this very subject, and, as luck would have it, Stephen of Blitzwalkers (next Greenwich at Warwalk Sat 18th September, btw) and I were going against Basil Fawlty’s advice and talking about the war just yesterday.

As we discussed a few months ago, Greenwich Park saw its fair share of action during WWII – and not all of it of the blast variety – the lower part near the Queen’s House was actually rather lovely, turned into allotments. But there were also several buildings in there – could they be used for air-raid shelters?

I guess we have to know a little about the underground geography around the west end of the Park, and even though Dominic has carefully explained it all, I’m still not sure I totally have it. The issue is that there are only so many words for ‘reservoir’ and ‘conduit’ and there appear to be several candidates for their use on the west side of the park (and not a few on the east…)

Dominic and his partner in cavery, Per, have inspected a highly detailed 1700-ish plan of the Standard Reservoir house,  and the underground reservoir immediately behind it. Now I think that that’s what I’ve always thought was the Conduit House, the dour little Hawksmoor building halfway up the hill. This one (as photographed by Stephen):

Dominic says “the building itself is empty and featureless, though under the floor is a reservoir fed by a lead pipe.

A few yards uphill from the building is a very large underground reservoir, which heads across towards the observatory for about 20 yards – it was opened during the war for assessment as a possible air raid shelter (I’ve seen a photo that proves that unequivocally).” I think Dominic means the big round reservoir, which, thinking about its underground nature probably would have been ideal. Apparently the Park’s a bit of a Swiss Cheese at that point, with plenty of tunnels and even another (now lost) conduit building.

It seems, though, that the wartime authorities actually decided on the Hawksmoor building, reinforcing it for use as Public Air Raid Shelter No. 4,  and though Stephens’s not sure where the other three were, (certainly from the Subterranean Greenwich guys’ account of visiting the “hobbit hole” near the children’s playground, that one would have been far too teeny – not to mention wet - to get panicky people inside) he tells me “There were also Trench Shelters over near the Park Vista entrance but given the reputation of these – one in Kennington Park collapsed after a near miss early in the Blitz with over 50 being killed – I shouldn’t think these were used much. As far as I know these were daytime-only shelters – i.e. for use of the public when the park was open – local residents in Crooms Hill for example would all have had Anderson shelters in their gardens.”

So, I’m pretty convinced that the air raid shelter that Jack’s wife and June’s dad remember is the Hawksmoor building – it even has ‘Greenwich Hospital’ carved on the outside. Happily, it never got a direct hit, though it had a very near miss on the night of 21st October 1940 when a bomb fell 25 yards from the entrance…

The picture at the top, by the way, is a total cheat. It’s a Faded Greenwich photo sent to me by Frank, of a fabulous Air Raid Shelter signpost – but it’s nowhere near Greenwich Park, or even Greenwich, though I’m sure we had them all over the place at the time. This splendid example is actually in Deptford High Street.

Sorry – still on historical stuff today – I’ll move onto other things soon, promise! Following on from yesterday’s Stockwell Street post,Steve sent me a couple of pictures of the immediately-surrounding area, in 1944, which shows the kind of bomb damage we were discussing. The originals can both be found at Greenwich Heritage Centre, a very, very interesting place.

The first picture could even be the V2 rocket we were talking about. It fell on 1st July 1944. It looks a bit close to Greenwich Station to be the one on the Stockwell Street drawing – but I find perspective in old pics hard to work out, and though you’d really need another photo taken from the other direction to be sure, it’s entirely possible it’s the same fellow.

Whatever, this is pretty serious stuff. An army of flat-capped workers are trying to clear the rubble, watched by what looks like the men from the ministry – or at least the council. I’m guessing the uniformed chap is the stationmaster.

The second is Burney Street, just across from Stockwell St. If you need to get your bearings, look in the top left hand corner – there’s (what’s left of) the Observatory. Presumably the row of buildings at the back is what’s left of the North side of Gloucester Circus. That bomb had fallen a few days earlier, on 27th June. You can always tell where bombs fell in the war as you walk around Greenwich, as the old houses suddenly stop and modern buildings suddenly begin. In Burney Street’s case, that’s a block of flats and a police station today – perhaps the police station was to replace the one in Park Row…

Steve is a Battlefield Guide – just about to join the Guild and everything (I didn’t even know there was a Guild of Battlefield Guides) and he’s just about to do a series of Blitz-related South East London Walks. The first takes in Blackheath and Greenwich on Good Friday, April 2nd. If you’re interested in touring the bombed-to-buggery sites of Greenwich, meet at All Saints Church, Blackheath, at 11.00am and be prepared to be walking for about two and three quarter hours. The cost is £6 per head.