Ding Dong Merrily On High

Merry Christmas, Phantom Friends! I'm going to be taking a break from the blog after this post for a couple of days, enjoying the many delights of the season, but I wanted to get you mulling over the wine on a fun little poll while I'm away - on the festive joys of the many bells of Greenwich.

There are at least four peals in the town centre and I thought we could discuss our favourites.

I've been collecting them over the past week or so, standing around in a suspicious manner with my Walkman in sub-zero conditions waiting to catch them ringing (I had a couple of false attempts - it's only when you're actually trying to record them that you realise that they're not always in sync either with their own clocks or , indeed, anyone else's...) and thanks to the Phantom Webmaster, I've got some recordings to play you here. The poll will be at the end.





Let's start with Christ Church, out on Trafalgar Road, and work our way in.

I'm pretty sure these bells are recordings, though they're nice and clear and still a welcome sound - loud enough to be heard from a fair old distance. The old clock used to be kept in a glass window in the Forum, but the mechanisms disappeared a couple of years ago - I understand it was given away, which is a real shame. The window looks very empty now.



Moving along, the melancholy chimes of Trinity Almshouses on the river. I'm always reminded of the bells in Mission chapels in Hollywood westerns by this eerie little sound, or perhaps of ships' bells on foggy nights - appropriate, I guess, being a cough and a spit from the Thames.


The next bell is probably the loudest of the lot - and not where I expected it to be. The chapel of St Peter and St Paul - better known as the Old Royal Naval College Chapel, has a magnificent bell-tower, but as I recorded the bells on Sunday morning, at around ten to eleven, calling the faithful to church, I realised that the bell being rung - I could even see it vibrating - was in one of the little Hawksmoor towers; the one closest to the church, not the domed bell tower.




It rings for about 15 minutes on Sunday mornings and on the hour the rest of the time. A clear clang, it gives a wonderfully timeless feel to the ORNC - especially if you're the only one around...

Last, but not least, the parish church itself, St Alfeges.




This was the one that gave me the biggest headache to record - and I'm not even convinced that I've got it now. It's the most elaborate of the peals - playing the Westminster Chimes before the hour-markers - but the whole thing is so quiet that it almost feels as though it's coming from another church, even though I was right underneath the bell tower as I recorded it. It's almost as if they've been muffled or something. Maybe so as not to disturb the neighbours. The other odd thing is that the Westminster Chimes seem to be out of sync - we get the three-quarter, followed by the first, then the second, then the third again - then instead of playing the last bit, it goes straight to the bongs.

I know that it still has all 10 bells and there are real bellringers - though I guess it's mostly automatic nowadays. I'm told part of the mechanism is the medieval original, but I don't know much more. Maybe someone can tell me if this (very bad - sorry I had a lot of extraneous noise and I had to turn the levels up to get the bells) recording is actually of St Alfege's bells. Even having stood beneath them I'm still not sure.

And so to the poll...

Which of these bells is YOUR favourite? Vote here.

If you fancy hearing a really festive peal, get all the recordings playing at once.

Thank you for keeping me company during 2009, for all your questions, tips, news and comments - stay warm, safe and happy over the festive period, eh...

Merry Christmas, One and All!

Dream Home By The Dome

Dazza saw this in Friday's Metro and thought it might raise a giggle. He says:

"Don't know how long Tarves Way has been 'next to the O2 Arena' or 'Two minutes from Canary Wharf on the Jubilee Line' or indeed 'Next to North Greenwich Station'. Funnily enough, when I checked their website, they have nothing listed for Greenwich. Maybe it's listed under Wandsworth!"

In case you're still puzzled, Tarves Way is here. BTW I'm assuming that the headline should have an 'if' at the beginning - unless the Greenwich Peninsula really is that exclusive...

Where To Find A Policeman (1879)

The ever-entertaining Transpontine has a marvellous snippet from Charles Dickens(Jnr)'s Dictionary of London which lists "fixed points where police constable is to be permanently stationed from 9 to 1 am. In the event of any person springing a rattle, or persistently ringing a bell in the street or in an area, the police will at once proceed to the spot and render assistance..."

I won't reinvent the wheel here by relisting all of Transpontine's hard graft - but don't you just love the idea of 'springing a rattle' or 'persistently ringing a bell' around St Alfege's Church at 1.00am of a Sunday morning and enjoying the permanently-stationed bobbie's rendered assistance..?

Trev And Simon's Ninja Day Off.

Don't ask me what Captain Manbaps was doing trawling YouTube for Trevor + Simon + Greenwich. That's worrying enough as it is. What's even more disturbing is that he actually got a result.

For those fortunate enough not to remember Trevor and Simon, they were an astoundingly unfunny but curiously successful Saturday Morning TV comedy duo, specialising in laugh-free sketches.

Ninja Day Off has them arsing around in Greenwich as two Ninjas living next door to each other.

Good bits:

• Fabbo 1970s-style soundtrack
• The Picturehouse in its previous incarnation
• The duck
• The foot tunnel
• The bandstand
• Stilted, cod-kung-fu dialogue after the final confrontation
• No Swinging of Pants.

Bad bits:

• Everything else.

It's nine minutes of your life you won't get back, but as the Captain says, it does show tiny snippets of Greenwich 20 years ago...

Wood Wharf Revisited

Wood Wharf seems to be in the air at the moment. It seems virtually every other mail I get seems to be about that area of Greenwich. Today, I have a little film Roger made for us from the foreshore, mainly because he was trying to find any trace of Wood Wharf Studios run by Billy Jenkins in the 1980s.

You can see Roger's little film here.

We can see more signs of the new Bar and Grill being constructed, but almost as interesting are the boats that are still on the riverfront - I tend to think of them as being gone from there, but still they cling on.

Some rather wonderful pics of Wood Wharf to come another day - from a totally different angle.

In the meanwhile, for all of you who were disappointed when the site hosting Billy Jenkins's very silly version of Sweet Georgia Brown went down, it's up again. Enjoy it here.

Move Over, Bishop's Avenue...

Dazza is very worried about the recent rise in rental prices around Greenwich. Take those charming "Homes" we were talking about last week, along Woolwich Road.

Struck by their sheer beauty and build-quality, as, surely, would anyone clapping eyes on such architectural excellence, he thought he'd just peek - just see how much they're asking - just in case he might one day aspire to live in one. We all have our little fantasies.

His hopes were dashed when he looked at this site and realised that at that kind of weekly rental, only the likes of Arpad Busson can afford somewhere on the luxurious Woolwich Road these days.

Grinnidge

"Be not afraid of Greenwich, some are born Greenwich, some achieve Greenwich and others have Greenwich thrust upon them..." *

Sue and I have been discussing ways to tell if someone is a true Greenwichian or a happy incomer who has found Paradise in the Land of a Thousand Domes...

I guess you could say you were Greenwichian if you were born within the sound of St Alfege's Bells, but they don't ring very often. It would be most inconvenient to be born at a time there's no campanological practice. Christ Church's always-slightly-late chimes, then? Hmm. Maybe.

Sue reckons there's an easy way to tell a Born-Greenwichian. She says:

"Locals (including me) call it “Grinnidge” but immigrants to the fair borough and the people who make the announcements on the train and the DLR pronounce it “Grenitch”.

I am in accord. My elderly uncle always used to call it Grinnidge. (He also had a sweet tooth and enjoyed a nice slab of 'nuggit' from time to time.) I, neither to my shame nor otherwise, have always called it Grenitch (and enjoyed the occasional nugget of noogar.) Both are wrong, considering its spelling - even my pagan pals don't call it green-witch.

Sue continues:

"The other thing about the local accent is the aaaaas. My north London friend is fascinated by the number of “as” I can place in the middle of a word. He says it sounds like hay without the h."

Interesting that many Greenwichian accents seem to owe more to rural Kent than Sarf London. Some people say they can tell the difference between accents from Greenwich, Charlton, Woolwich etc. I confess I wouldn't be able to but Sue says that a few trips to the terraces at The Valley should help me out. And I do intend to put my aversion to all kinds of sport to one side next season and actually attend a Charlton match, just so I can say I've done it. Oh - and listen to all those different accents, of course.

Thing is, I'm not totally convinced that you actually need to be born in Greenwich to be a true Greenwichian. In fact it's entirely possible you don't even need to live here. Like the rest of London, Greenwich is now a cosmopolitan place. Being born here is cool - but that isn't the only way. I am coming to the opinion that Greenwich, like New York, is a State of Mind. You merely have to allow Greenwich into your heart (ooh - that sounds a bit creepy and evangelical...nah, I'll let it go...) to be a True Greenwichian.

So today, I would like suggestions for what makes someone 'a true Greenwichian.' And, indeed, ideas for a Person-of-Greenwich noun less wanky than 'Greenwichian...'


* from the First Folio edition of "Twelfth Night." Censored by the Lord Chamberlain as being 'offensive to people not from Greenwich,' it was replaced in later editions by the synonym "greatness."

Allegro Tractorato

Rod has kindly forwarded a priceless jazz gem courtesy of Greenwich Treasure, Billy Jenkins. This appears to be the first outing of the Tractor Quartet, but the drummer's timekeeping has a consistency of which many bands can only dream.

Sadly you will probably not be hearing it exactly as I did - with the addition of a fifth band member - a percussionist in the form of a smoke alarm whose batteries are running down, punctuating the stops rather perfectly.

Take A Seat...

I know finding a seat outside the Cutty Sark pub can be tough in sunny weather, but this is ridiculous.

Jo snapped this last Thursday. Presumably she captured the moment when Old Father Thames had just nipped indoors to purchase a swift pint for enjoying later in his slightly-seaweedy comfy throne.

Jo says it stayed just a few hours before floating majestically away upstream as the tide came in. Wonder which pub he's drinking in now...

Home Is Where The Heart Is

In celebration of St Valentine's Day, I thought I'd show you the result of some plastering I'm having done chez Phantom.

As the plaster dries, it's revealing this romantic image.

Love is in the air.

So is an awful lot of dust...

Free The Pingu One!

Today, I have to bring to your attention a disgraceful matter.

A violation of Basic Penguin Rights, happening under our very noses, as the seeming 'charity shop' on the corner of Blackwall Lane and Pelton Road subjects this poor pantomime penguin to living in a freezing back yard, with just a stripy scarf to protect him against the cruelty of the elements and a mere wheelie bin to sleep in.

His crime? As yet unproven - but he is incarcerated under suspicion of being 'the wrong kind of penguin suit.'

It's understandable how it happened. The shop specialises in evening wear.

Clearly whoever donated him to the store thought that he would find a decent home there, maybe a family who would love and cherish him. Instead he is forced to live in the yard, abandoned, frightened and alone. A poster-chick who screams:

"A Penguin Outfit is for life, not just your store's promotion..."

As he pitifully peers through his prison bars, I urge you to join me in a letter-writing campaign to release this poor creature.* Or maybe you could go one better and adopt him. He'll need a fair bit of wringing-out after yesterday's cruel rainstorms, but a rescue-penguin can give years of joy.

I have a friend who once rescued a pantomime duck. I leave you to fill in the obvious puns...

*It's possible that this penguin isn't an outfit at all, but another persecuted minority, the Giant-Fairground-Stuffed-Toy. This does nothing to alleviate the situation. Carney-Penguins have rights too.

Why the Phantom's Identity Must Never Be Revealed...

I tried to contact Lady, that's My Skull, who created this, to see if I could reproduce it here, but no joy. I can't even seem to imbed it into a proper link. But it made me smile so do take a peek. While you're there, have a look around - it's one weird site...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/dlanod/601723709/

Which Way Up?

So - the burning question of the day is:

Are the Trafalgar Road Christmas lights upside-down this year?

This simple poser caused something of a heated discussion last night and we ended up fifty-fifty on it. Should the stars be at the bottom or the top, with the squirly bits under or over them?

So. I think, that like all really important questions regarding Greenwich, we need a poll...

The Femur of Doom

You know I've walked past this funny little building hundreds of times - but it was only - well July, actually (I'm a bit behind...) that I stopped to actually look at it and wonder what the hell it is.

It looks like some kind of porter's lodge - but it's a real fur-coat-and-no-knickers kind of a place. A fantastic facade with strong pillars either side and a studded arched doorway - but as soon as you're not looking at it completely head-on, it goes back to being good old-fashioned bricks. There's an unexciting window at the back, through which you can just about make out the back of a wooden piece of furniture.

But it can't be a porter's lodge. It's nowhere near the entrances - which have their own lodges (with inexplicably-placed chimneys - but we'll come onto that another day.) It's definitely seen a LOT of use - just look at that entrance step - that stone's had a lot of footfall. And it's near the old brewery - but not near enough, I'd guess, for it to have been connected. It also has its own TV security camera. Someone is watching...

And here is why.

It's actually been deliberately designed to be so exposed that no one actually sees it - we all gaily walk past on our way to bigger and seemingly better things - when this is the real heart of the Old Royal Naval College.

If the uninitiated were to walk in - a lost tourist, for example - they would see nothing but an empty room. But woggle the door studs in the correct order to unlock the secret code and upon opening the door, the member of the Secret Order of The Unholy Ox-Bone, dedicated to the unwholesome worship of the viking that slew St Alfege, will see a trapdoor open to reveal a series of ancient stone steps leading into the bowels of the old palace of Placentia.

A long, perilously dark and dank passageway leads to the ancient Great Hall, rediscovered by members of the Order in 1852, and used for secret rituals invoking the spirit of the Great Trog to help retrieve the terrifying Femur of Doom, which, according to legend, has the power to bring forth the Apocalypse. It was also used for office Christmas parties during the Blitz.

Of course I'm fantasising. What it really is is the portal to Town Centre headquarters of the Greenwich branch of Torchwood.

Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Chalk Me Up, Scottie

Spotted by Benedict, a sort of cubist Scottie dog chalked into the path near Princess Caroline's Bath. IMHO much more fun than those tedious Banksy-Lite spraycan rats that appear from time to time, but probably less durable...

Greenwich Baby Bin

Joe has brought to my attention a shocking development in Greenwich Council's policy on children. I know that providing nursery care and school facilities are getting more expensive, and that young people are a drain on council resources, but do they really have to resort to the kind of desperate tactics that encourage vulnerable people to dispose of their babies in a seedy underground toilet?

Greenwich Council's solution to the ever-burgeoning population problem is the deeply sinister "Baby Bin," as seen in the picture above, with its disarmingly 'cute' outline of a chubby little bairn in a nappy, which has been installed in the Gents in King William Walk, with strict - and distressing for some - instructions. No general rubbish to be put in this receptacle; it's clearly intended for alternative 'disposal.'

Brings a whole new meaning to the term 'lavatory cleaner.'

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...

Slick Toads...

Following Benedict's charming portraits of the Lucky Gnomes of Greenwich Park Drains and delightful coverage of Toadhog Day today I bring you this pair of splendid fellows, spotted in Goucester Circus.

The meeting of Gnome and Toad is rarely witnessed by humans, so it is especially important that Benedict not only saw it, but managed to capture this moment on film.

And what emotion is caught in this image. The elderly gnome, clearly trying to read his book in this quiet spot, is irritated to be interrupted by the dapper young toad, all dressed up in his finery in the fernery. Mr Gnome is pretending he hasn't noticed the amphibious gentleman, but it's not working.

There's nothing for it - the aquaintance cannot be avoided now. He'll just have to make polite conversation about the weather - and the sagacity of Mr Toad's remembering to bring a brolly in weather as changeable as this, and hope the guy goes away and leaves him in peace as soon as possible.

It is, of course, depicting the wise old country saying: "Cross roads at slick toads."

As true today as ever.

A lesson, I think, for us all.

My Ad Here

Following my post earlier today, Andy's very kindly donated the wherewithal for The Greenwich Phantom site to get its very first ad - just to prove to Greenwich Foundation how tasteful the commercialisation of Greenwich could be.


See? It's charming, isn't it. Now imagine YOUR company there. I'm sure the World Heritage Site committee would have no reservations whatsoever about This Kind of Thing...

The Deadly Kacia Tree Of Olde Greenwich Towne...

Benedict, you were moaning that there haven't been enough pictures recently, so this one's for you...

I was sent this fabbo comic a short while ago, (among others, all of which are wonderful) and I was put in mind of it when I was walking down Old Woolwich Road one darkening evening. There, peeping out from behind a high wall, was - OMG - surely not? The deadly Kacia Tree of Bandar!

Could it be that those lethal smells we've been blaming on the drains in Lassell St are actually - heavens - the Kacia tree itself? Or are they merely portents of what is to come when the poisonous purple plant finally blooms.

Will the vicious vegetable murder us all? Can the Peninsula Pong be traced to a backstreet in Greenwich? And does the Phantom actually wear a mauve all-in-one ensemble? Tune in next week, folks, to find out...