Phantom Favourite Front Gardens (8)

Alderburgh St, SE10

Right down the bottom of the Peninsula, tucked away between the various industrial estates and the A102 M flyover, two dainty little streets quietly exist in that strange place that is neither Greenwich nor Charlton, but something all of its own. Fearon St and Aldeburgh St could just be tatty little nothings tacked onto an unexciting business area - but they're not. The residents keep them neat and tidy and there are lots of little touches in them that makes me realise that this is a community that likes being where it is, and has a little unique flavour to it.

There are some sweet window boxes and filled tubs, early-days hedges and tidy flowerpots, but my favourite is an unassuming Victorian terraced house on Aldeburgh St with topiary grandeur punching above its weight.

Two great boxes of box, stepped like Aztec pyramids, a pair of square 'braziers' burst with an unfettered 'flame' of tufty growth on top from a simple brick wall. There is nothing else to muddy the view - no extra flowers, ornaments, hanging baskets, gnomes, wishing wells or birdbaths - and that's what makes this statement so bold.

A gardener of taste lives here.

Deer Me

Benedict knows I like a good gulley as much as the next Phantom and kindly sent me this interesting conduit for identification. It's in Greenwich Park, just in that little hollow that comes down from One Tree Hill and just up from the Queen's Oak. I've never been too sure of it myself, but The Friends of Greenwich Park's website came to my rescue.

It's a deer trough, installed in 1858, pretty much where the keeper's cottage stood. He's a very old pic of the place:

A.D. Webster (from whom I culled the pic) reckons it probably dated back to The Commonwealth or just before; I find it a very curious to imagine Greenwich Park with such a large series of buildings in it. So did the Victorians - they demolished it in 1853.

Webster tellls me the first mention of deer in the park is January 1510. A Eustace Browne was paid the princely sum of £13 6s 8d to stock the Park with deer for Henry VIII to chase around. They were clearly not fast enough for Bluff King Hal, as five years later he had some "quick" deer transferred from Eltham (I know, I know, it might have just meant 'not dead' but the thought of extra-speedy deer makes me smile...)

Queen Elizabeth enjoyed hunting there, and Sir Walter Scott (admittedly about as renowned for historical accuracy as I am...) talks of King James hunting in the park too. It must have been one of the only things James did there - he didn't really care for Greenwich - it was too cold and damp for his many ailments.

Everyone had their eye on a quick buck - and during the Commonwealth Cromwell had to set up a special task force to prevent poaching. He eventually got bored and decided to flog the whole park and its contents to one John Parker, though of course on the Restoration Parker lost his prize.

A.D. Webster talks of the pollution that threatened the deer during Victorian times - the factories pumping out smoke caused all manner of "deleterious effects of an impure atmosphere" and nearly did for them. In 1896 they numbered just 47, but the herd had increased to 150 by 1902.

Of course at that time they were allowed to roam all over the park, which delighted visitors. Their keepers were less delighted when the visitors killed them with kindness by feeding them some extraordinary snacks. One poor thing died of eating "too much gooseberry tart;" another's stomach was found to contain "two hatfuls of orange peel," in just two of the fatalities caused by picnickers sharing their lunch - which even included, I'm sad to say, venison. Here's an Edwardian chap sharing his mutton pie, scotch egg, battenburg and cheesy wotsits with a new friend:

With the coming of first the motor car, and then larger volumes of visitors, the deer had to be enclosed. At first it was just at night, but later they were relegated to the enclosure in the South-East corner.

The two herds (red and fallow) are very small indeed now. but they're still lovely to see. There are two places (apart from the little observation hut which isn't often open to the public) where you can get a not-bad view of them. The obvious one is not far from Blackheath gate, with a crazy-paved area and seats. The other, you have to seek out. Go into the Victorian flower garden and keep the thickets on your right (or your left if you're entering from the Maze Hill entrance) There is a little pathway through the trees to another spot with a seat where you can see the wilderness where the deer are. There's a little seat there too.

Sadly they're very well kept-in - two (perhaps three now?) layers of wire mesh, which means getting a good picture is nigh-on impossible. Here's the best I could do a couple of years ago in the snow:

Wisteria Walk

Benedict and I have been discussing the joys of wisteria, and waiting for a good couple of weeks for that spectacular moment when the utterly stunning example of this wonderful climber on the corner Gloucester Circus and Royal Hill is in its full glory.

Well - I got the email entitled "It's out!" this morning - and I now urge you to go and see this mauve monster in all its purple pomposity. Even Benedict himself would admit that mere photography can't do this one justice. My favourite view is from across the road by the shops (Benedict ogles it whilst queuing in Drings) but he got right under it for this shot (and was caught at it by Kirsty...)

Indeed, since we all seem to be whipping ourselves into wisteria-frenzy (well - ok, one or two of you have enjoyed the pics; that's frenzied enough for a poor old Phantom who needs a cup of tea and a sit down at the sight of a bunch of glads...) how about we create ourselves a Wisteria Walk?

For example, in Straightsmouth, a little purple haze goes a long way to softening that building site in the background:

Benedict also points out a rather fab example in Hyde Vale...

...and this splendid fellow in Park Vista:

More will be added as I find 'em, then I'll arrange them into a walk for wispy wisteria womantics... Suggestions welcomed. And don't restrict yourselves here, folks. I'm no Wisteria fascist. I'll take anything interesting - laburnum, clematis - whatever - if it's lovely, wheel it in...

Peninsula Pollution?

P and his mates down the pub have been putting on their conspiracy hats...

"I heard a rumour at the pub the other evening... when talk slid along (as it does) to cover various disjointed yet weighty topics, we entered a residential/environmental phase of the discussion. At which point, one of the group asserted that the B&Q on the Peninsula was having problems with pollution leaching up from underneath.

To support this, they referred to the slightly buckling pavement in front of it. This hardly speaks to a "nice" aspect of Greenwich... but I'm certainly interested to know if it's true or not. I wonder if this is something you might throw out to your wider readership to confirm/deny?"

The Phantom is largely unconvinced. Certainly it all sits on top of a load of ex-industrial nastiness and there is only a 'cap' on top of it, but I would really assume (or maybe I should say 'hope') that it's pretty thick (the peninsula doesn't seem to be any higher than anywhere else but it is build on marshland, so maybe it all evens out.) Those giant retail sheds can't have much in the way of foundations; I would have thought that the pollution just couldn't get through there.

I suspect the buckling of the pavement is just down to bad building - and very annoying it is too, if you're trying to push an already recalcitrant trolley along it. Blackheath Bugle went over just now to see what all the fuss is about and took some pics of the pavement, which Blogger won't let me upload. Grrr. BB asked in B&Q what was going on with the pavement:

"I asked the cashier about the paving outside, and he said that it was about to be renovated, but he didn't say why. It's not just B&Q -all the paving next to the shops there is wonky, and also the tarmacby the bus stops has warped leaving large puddles next to the seats."

Now, If you'd asked me about the high-rise flats I might be a tiny little more concerned. They must have to have quite deep foundations and I can't see that the 'cap' can be very thick underneath them. But I'm no engineer and my physics sucks. Maybe someone else here has more of a grasp than me (not hard...)

I wouldn't put it beyond being true. I have an engineer friend who was brought in as an expert on a project up north which was going to build houses on an ex-landfill site that had been landscaped. He refused to sign it off because he was concerned of methane leaks and shifting soil as stuff decomposed, and got sacked from the project. Another 'expert' was brought in to rubber-stamp it. If there is something nasty going on there, then I doubt anyone in charge is keen to advertise it, but in the case of B&Q at least, I think we're pretty safe.

Phantom Favourite Front Gardens (8)

Trinity Grove, SE10

We haven't had a fave front garden for ages - mainly because nobody's place looks much cop in the winter months, but now the sun is beginning to peep shyly from behind the black clouds, The Phantom is once again on the rove, looking for things to delight a jaded eye...

Trinity Grove is less a favourite front garden than a favourite front street of mine. This is clearly a road whose residents not only adore living there, but actually like living with each other. Virtually every house has something outside it - a pot, a window box, a tub, a trough. And what's so great about it is that this is despite not one of those little houses actually having a front garden to decorate.

Perhaps it's the very narrowness of the street (cars could go down it, and it has yellow lines that imply that they do - but it really isn't wide enough), perhaps it's the fact that there's only a handful of the tiny Georgian/early Victorian terraces left clinging to the rock of West Greenwich's extraordinary topography, the rest having been cleared for flats further down the hill, that promotes the impression I get that this street really is a little self-contained neighbourhood.

If you walk round the back of the western ones, their back gardens just drop away down Greenwich's equivalent of Cheddar Gorge (we are, after all, in Maidenstone Hill/ Blackheath Cavern territory here) so the front gardens take on an even more important aspect as outdoor spaces. I imagine neighbours sitting out here together with a glass of wine or a giant bowl of rich pasta of a summer evening, gathred around the bench by the little street goddess on the corner, chewing the fat, gossiping about the antics of the Big Town far away down the hill.

And my absolute favourite bit? This old claw-and-ball-foot bath, filled to the brim with whatever's in season and surrounded by honesuckle. It's not quite up to speed yet, but visit it in the summer and you'll be enchanted.

I've wanted to feature Trinity Grove for ages, but because it's such a narrow street and because I'm such a rubbish photographer, I was totally unable to get any kind of pic that did it justice. Happily Benedict has come to my rescue with these fabbo shots.

More Fave Front Gardens to come, but in the meanwhile I'd say Trinity Grove really merits a walk one warm summer evening. Enjoy...

Little Green Space

Now as you know, I'm not in the habit of doing promotions for companies - old or new - I consider that to be the job of the free mags - but I'm making an exception just this once, not least because the founder, Richard Campbell, has come up with an offer I can't refuse, neatly circumventing my 'no ads' rule...

Little Green Space is just two days old - a local company that plants up lovely window boxes for instant Spring loveliness. I am a big fan of fab front gardens (as you may have noticed) and anything that makes Greenwich look nicer as I walk through it is good by me. It doesn't matter whether you've got a giant front garden or no garden at all, I am yet to find someone who doesn't have windows...

They deliver ready-planted window boxes, (or a colourful tub) so even if your fingers are any shade of the rainbow except green, you too can have a place that would be worthy of a Phantom Favourite Front Garden...

So - to Richard Campbell's idea. He's offered to give a window box away free to a local place that needs cheering up - a charity, group, elderly folks' home - that sort of thing.

So I thought I'd ask you - do you have any ideas for somewhere that would like such a sweet gift? Check out their website www.littlegreenspace.com and let me know...

The Best Shed in Greenwich...

...has to be this one at Ballast Quay. I've written about this fabulous little garden before - mainly the very odd little memorial to the animal victims of foot & mouth dying "not of the disease, but of the cure..."

If I'm honest I know virtually nothing about this lovely little rural corner of the city riverside, but there is something wonderfully bucolic about the simple tree, the ivy-covered memorial, those terracotta jars, crumbling stone steps - and, of course that shed. I love the fact that it has city railings one side, the river Thames the other, yet its low-lying black-shiplap walls and lichen-covered roof are straight out of deepest Dorset.

I imagine the inside, neat rows of ancient terracotta pots, regimented in musty wooden seed trays; the slightly musty, earthy odour mingling with faint reminders of creosote and linseed oil.

In the corner, I see a battered leather armchair, moulded to a half-century's worth of backsides, aged stuffing bursting from cat-clawed arms.

There are, of course, a couple of chipped mugs, a much-used Thermos and a packet of Rich Teas, nestled in a rusty biscuit tin behind a propped-up spade and a pile of seed catalogues. By the window in the roof, a few small seedlings enjoy what little watery warmth the March sun can afford.

I have never seen anyone in this garden, not even perched on the little green-painted cast-iron seat outside my dream shed enjoying a cup of PG Tipps in the setting sun. Someone told me that it's looked after by a lady who lives opposite - presumably in those cute brick houses with the little lattice arches, but anything more - well - my imagination has to fill in the rest.

You know what? Just like that roof garden on the peninsula, I don't want to know what's really in that shed. I could only be disappointed. But I will always stop a moment as I pass that place, poke my nose through the railings and wonder...

Echoes of Forgotten Gardens - Or Nature's Reclamation Yard?

Something I love about the Peninsula as it stands is the fallow land waiting to be developed. Where once was marsh, then was life and industry, now is a tapestry of brown and green, with flashes of pinks and yellows as the grasses and sedges cover the soil, dappled from time to time with the odd iris or mallow flower.

All this will go soon, the backdrop of the aggregates yard carefully hidden behind, I presume, the 'affordable'-end of the sundry housing schemes, but for now it's a little breath of countryside behind the chainlink Fence Of Doom, guarded by men in dayglo vests and the odd scary dog.

Dotted around, though, flourishing in the poor soil, defiantly waving cream, fluffy heads above tattered newspapers and discarded plastic cups, clumps of what looks remarkably like Pampas Grass still stand as proud as though it were 1976.

A native of the South American Plains and suburban gardens of the 1970s, pampas grass (Cortaderia Selloana if you're being picky) is tough as old boots, which is probably why it survives where no no other domestic plant does. Because it's so inextricably linked with the Margot Leadbetter end of the 70s, it's generally thought a bit naff these days, but somehow it manages to look not just elegant, but even native on that Peninsula.

Is it what's left of the various 'dirty' businesses that once inhabited the area? Perhaps long-lost handkerchiefs of green outside the boss's office of some dead factory - once manicured to high heaven; now left to take off its corsets and spread out. The entire ex-contents of some relocated worker's front garden? To be honest it's so long ago now, I can't quite remember what was where any more.

Of course the other explanation for the sudden clumps of giant sedges is less fanciful, but no less romantic. That this is Nature reclaiming what's hers and seeding once-contaminated land with her own native species; thumbing a disdainful nose at Progress.

Just outside the entrance to the Eco Park, right in among the carefully-planted, tastefully-planned landscape, one of these plants lurks, triffid-like, hoping no one will notice it. I don't know whether it was allowed to stay there, whether it seeded itself or just whether no one else actually ever marked it, but every time I catch sight of it, I rejoice that a little bit of unconventionality still festers just below ground level...


Let's hope that nothing else under the ground there ever surfaces...

A Murder of Crows

Benedict's Murder of Crows...

Benedict points out the sudden onslaught of Spring:

I'm often suprised to see a murder of crows on the clock tower, usually in the autumn, but the unseasonaly early spring weather has instigated an unprecidented conflagration. Any ideas?

The Phantom replies:

That is one enigmatically highbrow epistle, Benedict. Did you actually mean to write to The Times? The Phantom is currently donning tweeds and a deerstalker to pen a worthy reply ;-)

Indeed Spring is portentiously early this year, perhaps, one might suppose, to render some recompense for the failure last year, of Primavera to peer in April's front at all...

...Phew - I can't keep that up for much longer. By the way, I love the collective noun. Did you know that, according to Wikipedia (which is never wrong, of course) you could also have used cauldron, caucus, congress, cowardice, hover, murder, muster, parcel, or storytelling when referring to crows?

But back to Spring. I did notice the daffs were fully in bloom in the National Maritime Museum yesterday, and that a pair of blackbirds are getting it together behind my gaff, warm spring days replacing the need for flowers, chocolates and Barry White Albums.

Any more springlike indcations folks? Sightings of yellowhammers or recordings of the first cuckoo should be addressed to The Editor...

Phantom Favourite Front Gardens (7)

Greenwich Millennium Village

Front gardens are a state of mind. Sometimes they're not actually on ground level. Or classically laid-out. Or even at the front. My favourites are not always bursting over with flowers (that one in Whitworth St, for example, full of plastic gnomes, plaster fairies and faux wishing wells lifts my heart every time I walk past) but they all have that something that makes me look twice. That makes my imagination work. In the case of this particular roof garden on the Peninsula my delight is in what I can't see.

What's up there? It's clearly a terrace to be used. A combination of evergreens and palms, chosen for architectural restraint and ease of upkeep provides an elegant basic backdrop for whatever the owners want to do up there. I'll wager it's not gardening. And that's absolutely fine. If I had the view that they must have, I'd want to use the area for parties, swanky events and get-togethers. It's a social space. I like to think parasols and sun-loungers. Hell - for all I know there could be a swimming pool up there.

I love it for the way it teases my imagination. I have images of a mini Kensington Roof Gardens up there, of fairy-lit champgane soirees and secluded romantic moments. Those wooden fences could hide anything. Even the brutalist air vent-y thing works against this restrained, carefully chosen garden.

There's a well-worn rule in garden design that dictates the maker should ensure the viewer never sees everything. That they are left to always imagine there's more, to force them to use their fantasies. This garden succeeds in spades. I have no idea what's up there and I don't want to know.

Oh and by the way I especially don't want to know if it's really full of kiddies' sand pits, paddling pools and rotary clothes-dryers, like everyone else's. Let a Phantom dream on this sunny Friday morning...

Greenwich Gardeners' World

Jen asks:

I can't wait for Spring when I can get out into the garden and see green again. I'd thought it would be nice to try making a 'Greenwich Garden' with influences from the area's history. Any suggestions?

The Phantom rubs hands with glee and replies:

What a great question. Spring is definitely champing at the bit now, isn't it. I like the idea of a themed garden. Hope you put one in the front too so we can all enjoy it. If it's especially good, I'll feature it as one of the Phantom's Favourite Gardens...

You don't say how large your space is. For pure fantasy reasons I'm going to assume it's huge; you can always scale-down if yours is more of the average size in Greenwich - i.e. tiny.

For a really large garden (and I know some people do have them - my greedy eye lasciviously sweeps the property sections every week - the words "120-ft garden" makes my heart leap...) a sweet chestnut would be a wonderful thing, reminiscent of the fabulous old trees planted by Le Notre (well, one of his flunkys, obviously) during the redesign of Greenwich Park in the 17th Century. These beautiful trees were a passion, nay, an obsession with John Evelyn, who used to take them round to friends houses in his one-man campaign to get a chestnut in every garden.

A friend of mine (with no previous gardening experience, and who lives in a high-rise) has recently heavily got into bonsai which got me to thinking about trying to create a compromise with trees for people who like trees but only have handkerchief gardens. A giant flower pot, a small tree and some careful pruning of both roots and branches each year could surely create a lovely specimen plant - fine for a centerpiece. If you don't fancy chestnuts, perhaps a grand old oak, like the one Elizabeth I sat and Henry VIII frolicked under.

If you want fruit, how about a medlar or a mulberry tree? These wonderful old plants can both be found in the back garden at Trinity Almshouses, and there are mulberries in Sayes Park (the sorry site of John Evelyn's gaff) and right by Inigo Jones's loo at Charlton House. You can't eat medlars until they're 'bletted,' (read 'rotten') by which point you wouldn't actually want to eat them but they make tasty jam and pie fillings. Mulberries are fiddly to pick but also make good preserves and tarts.

Right. Onto flowers. Some tulips, perhaps, to remind us of the Tulip Staircase at The Queen's House? Or daffodils, for the yellow carpets of them that grow in stiff rows outside the house in spring? My faves are the ones that grow up the hill leading to the Observatory, though I'm also rather fond of the handful of naturalised crocuses that spatter the grass near the Pepys Centre.

Bela Court was originally part of Duke Humphrey's masculine stronghold, but it was made all pretty and girly by Margeurite of Anjou who decorated everything from stained glass windows to tiles with daisies (her flower) and planted bowers of various blooms. She begrudgingly included a few hawthorn buds for her estranged husband.

Henry VIII liked masques. On one occasion, he used a dancefloor which had a cloth lain on it embroidered with gold lilies. Other popular medieval/ Tudor flowers you could consider are gillyflowers, or "Sops-in-wine," used to flavour drinks with their clove-like perfume. They're better known to us as carnations. There exists a charming painting of Elizabeth Woodville surrounded by gillyflowers and the ubiquitous roses.

On the subject of roses - you could always go to Rangers House for inspiration:

or get a variety with a good name. Rosa Christopher Marlowe might be a nice choice if you're more over the Deptford side.

Georgian Greenwich is a bit more difficult. Rococo in small gardens has to be done with care or it starts to look cheap, however much cash you lay out. In the meanwhile, take a peek at the back of the Fan Museum for a very English take on the Oriental style which was also popular. I love the detail which isn't always obvious at first. There's an even more impressive one at the Pagoda in Blackheath which opens for charity occasionally. But by then, it was nudging into the Regency, and everything had softened a bit so you can get away with a lots of flowers too.

If your place is Victorian (and odds-on in Greenwich it will be) you can have great fun. They went absolutely berserk. The fabulous formal beds at the top of Greenwich Park are almost certainly toned-down for the modern eye - nineteenth century fashions were definitely on the gaudy side. They loved bright, acidic colours which to us are frankly a bit much. Bedding's a bit outre these days, but done well it can still be a great look expecially in front gardens which can get neglected. I'm sure the wheelbarrow of fortune will turn soon and formal beds will be back. If you fancied, you could have a fernery, or shrubbery, like the path up the west side of Greenwich Park, or even have a nice greenhouse like Colonel North's Winter Gardens at Eltham.

When it comes down to it, virtually everywhere you go in Greenwich you can be inspired by wonderful greenery. Keep an eye out and visit widely on Open Gardens Days. When you've done your Greenwich garden, do make sure you open it for charity on an occasional basis too, like this one I visited at the top of Crooms Hill last year...

New Lamps for Old!!

So - it's not quite the end of panto season after all. Wicked Abanazar (well, wicked Uncle Ken, actually) is out peddling his wares at B&Q this weekend, inviting all you Aladdins out there to swap your new lamps for old.

Basically you take two of your old ordinary light bulbs to B&Q(they don't have to be working - but let's face it - who hoards dead light bulbs?) where they exchange them for low-energy versions. I did it this morning, and even though I've been rubbing my new lamps as hard as I can and I still can't make a genie appear, it still seems like a good trade to me.

I'm curious to know what the deal between Ken and B&Q is - presumably not everyone was like me and left with just the light bulbs - it must be quite a money spinner for B&Q.

Oh well - still worth a go. Get on over there - maybe yours will be the lucky lamp and Robin Williams will grant you three wishes...

The Herb Garden, Greenwich Park

Warning:

If you're ScaredofChives, or of a similarly delicate constitution, look away now. We are about to enter Herb County...

Tucked away in the North-west corner of Greenwich Park lies a little garden. Behind low, dainty railings, and separated by parterres of box, a modern Tudor-knot contains herbs for every sense, billowing out their frond-y, frothy abundance in a heady green-and-yellow haze, a gentle breeze rustling the ferny leaves in a soft murmur.

Well. Ok. maybe not just at the moment. It's more like a bunch of dark green boxes full of dead brown-and-black stalks and grizzled old earth, scoured by a howling gale. But in these dark January days a Phantom needs a few memories of long, hot summers and long, fragrance-filled evenings to light the way through to Spring.

Memories, for example, of that little fountain in the middle - I think it's supposed to be a thistle - but it could be a tulip or even a pineapple. No matter. The tinkle from that tiny pond twinkles in my mind and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my back, even if it's actually just my cardi, an extra blanket and a fan heater.

It's not that old (the herb garden, of course, not the fan heater, which is antediluvian.) There's precious little written about it anywhere - naturally - I'm beginning to get used to a total blank-er-oo whenever I try to find anything out about stuff in Greenwich. It's as though just putting something lovely somewhere is enough - when surely part of charm of a thing, whether a statue, sculpture, street furniture - or a garden - is in its history?

The new Greenwich Park walks leaflet (which I will be reviewing as soon as I've had the chance to try out one or two of the suggested route-marches) comes to the rescue - a bit. The garden was first planted in 1969 but tarted up in 1993, with 30 herbs. That fountain, designed by (and yea! - we have a sculptor) Kate Malone, was added in 2000.

The Phantom is in reflective mood today, swaddled in blankets and thick socks, leaving you with a lovely photo to remind you that Spring's not that far away now. Honest.

Christmas Tree Disposal

Sue asks:

As the Council are collecting trees AFTER 21st Jan (when most people will take them down this weekend!) where is the nearest place to take them for recycling, as I don't have a garden to leave it in. Is it in Plumstead?

The Phantom replies:

Hmm that does seem rather late - I'm sure it was earlier last year. It could have something to do with them being really busy this year implementing the new general collection arrangements (of which I thoroughly approve even it is a teensy bit more work) but it certainly makes it awkward for people with flats or no gardens.

Your best bet is either the Re-use and Recycling site in Nathan Way (quite an interesting experience if you're not there at a busy time - I would avoid Saturday and Sunday mornings if at all possible - best weekend time is during a major sporting event or a Charlton match) or, if you're near Thompsons Garden Centre in Welling you can dump it in a special area there (I would turn down/off your sound before going onto this particular website if I were you.)

Good luck - and Happy Twelfth Night!

The Phantom's Favourite Front Gardens (6)

The Fan Museum, Crooms Hill, SE10

Ok, folks, I'm being all fluffy again today and waxing lyrical about a lovely little secret corner of Greenwich which many pass by (its being slightly set away from the road) and yet adds, in its quiet way, a little moment of happiness for me - and, I hope, others who pass by. Aaahhh...

After yesterday's entry which is more likely to be seen by locals than tourists, todays, I'll bet, gets viewed by visitors and the rest of us only notice it when our mums are visiting...

As you will probably know by now I'm most impressed by front yards that have very little obvious potential, but which their owners have not given up on - the one in Angerstein Lane that has virtually no light, for example - or the tiny one in Maze Hill that most would think was far too small for a formal landscape - or even the one at St Alfege's Passage that has no 'garden' at all.

Basements - however pretty the houses themselves might be - can be excuses for doing nothing - no one's going to notice so why bother? So it's double joy when someone does something good with one.

Now, admittedly, if you're going to have a basement front garden, Crooms Hill ain't a bad place to have it - but I always get a little frisson of pleasure whenever I pass the Fan Museum and look down. Giant sword ferns and potted evergreens jostle with hanging baskets of annuals and what looks suspiciously like an overgrown house plant. The little cast iron table and chairs(which may or may not belong to the people next door - I don't care - it's the overall effect through that arch that counts and if neighbours can co-operate to create a nice view for the rest of us I'm not complaining) looks wonderfully inviting even if no one ever sits in it and even practical things like the security bars at the window, the floodlight and the rolled hose are part of the pleasure of this place.

The Phantom smiles serenely.

Favourite Front Gardens (4)

St Alfege's Guesthouse, 16, St Alfege's Passage SE10

I've been a bit of a grumpy old phantom of late so I thought I'd cheer myself up with a favourite front garden. This one's at St Alfege's Guesthouse, which still has to be the funkiest place to stay in Greenwich. One day I'll actually make it inside (so difficult to be a tourist in your own town...) but if the pics on the website and this garden are anything to go by, it must be cool indeed.

What I love about this place is that they 'officially' have no garden at all to speak of. The rest of the places in that particular bit of passage open out onto the street, but Number 16 has no intention whatsoever of being without greenery. A little area has been created using the natural street furniture - railings and the lamp post, a collection of giant pots and a tempting-looking bench.

Inside, there's not an inch of space between the plants - save for another, hidden little bench. Tropical - date palms and banana plants - and classic evergreens, they may be mixed in 'climate' but they do keep to a palette - just green - and very cool it is too. It's ever-so slightly jumbled and bohemian-looking with the odd weed tolerated rather than ripped out, which keeps it from looking prissy, and I enjoy it every time I walk past.

My heart gives a little leap whenever I'm staying somewhere in the world, am searching for my hotel and I see an entrance like this. It's a sign that I have made the right choice.

In this particular case I can't tell you whether you have made the 'right choice' if you have chosen to stay at St Alfege's - I have never stayed there myself. But all the signs are that it will be fab - and you can guarantee that if you choose one of the faceless multinational business-hotel alternatives, you will have made the wrong choice.

There is, of course, an opportunity to get a sneaky peek into the Guesthouse on, I believe, Monday, when it will be part of a fly-on-the-wall documentary The Hotel Inspectors. In the meanwhile, enjoy another example of an interesting and quirky Greenwich Front Garden...

Glenister Green Revisited (well - sort of...)

A few months ago I was convinced that Glenister Green - the dull bit of land in between the old folks homes and Mister Fast Fry on Woolwich Road - was actually a cheap holographic image created to cover the tracks of an alien space ship, and that any unsuspecting fool who set foot within those sinister gates would be swallowed up and experimented on (see "Open Spaces")in horrifc fashion.

There is still something very sinister about this scrap of land, especially at night, when although completely visible from the road, the lonely pools of light and the paths that lead round and round lend it an otherworldly atmosphere. I won't go on about all that again - but I have, in the past couple of weeks, noticed that it's not quite as horrid as it has been.

Leaves on the trees have made a big difference, of course, but some man-made improvements have helped too. The mural that used to be outside the hospital has been spruced up (though the tiles are still too far apart, making it look like it used to be somewhere else...) and it now has a plaque (not that I've actually looked at it of course - I'm still not actually setting foot in there. The aliens still loom large in my imagination.) The grass (well, weeds, but it's all green, isn't it) gets the occasional cut and some of the low shrubs that were planted when the place got its 'redesign' have bushed out a bit. It's not enhanced by the giant monstrosity that is the extension of Mister Fast Fry - easily the same size again as the original building and the most uninspired design imaginable, but that's a Planning thing, not Parks.

The biggest difference is that I have actually seen people in there. Granted it's nearly always slack-jawed teenagers loitering round the bins, who have kindly added some enhancements of their own in the form of art-free grafitti but it is Life. And that encourages me. Unless, of course, the aliens have invented a cunning patch for their hologram program that populates their creepy dimensional timeshift gate thingy...

Ruxley Manor Garden Centre

I have been looking for a fabulous garden centre for some time now. Given the price of land around Greenwich it's hardly surprising that there isn't much more than the piss-poor garden section of B&Q (Homebase is slightly better) but if you go out just a few miles there are quite a lot of them, some more impressive than others. There is one near the M25 which will remain nameless which didn't seem to have a plant in it that wasn't diseased when I visited, but others are at least clean and have a reasonable selection.

But I wasn't prepared for the sheer size of Ruxley Manor Garden Centre. Lovely Anita from House of Beauty told me about it and I thought I'd give it a try. The website looks nice enough but can't show just how big this place is. As you go in, you pass what turns out to be the overflow car park (the 'proper' one is next to the entrance.) What I like is that they have made an effort everywhere. Most garden centres have plenty of plants and then might do one or two displays, the rest being -well - a bit scruffy, really. This place, from the moment you go in. has well-cared for beds and smart displays. Presumably you pay for it in the prices, but I didn't notice many stupidly expensive items (and you know what a skinflint I am...)

If it goes outdoors, Ruxley will have it. There are huge sections of different kinds of plants - palms and ferns, fruit bushes, architectural talking points, perennials, annuals - you name it, they've got it. There are all manner of hard landscape-y things, outbuildings, summer houses, interesting ideas for back gardens from Japanese minimalism to country cottage charm. I particularly liked the dancing teddy bear topiary.

Indoors, every garden tool, accessory and frivolity jostles outdoor wear, conservatory furniture, kitchen stuff and dining clutter. There's a big aquatic and pets department I didn't go into - not my kind of thing, but I'm sure it's the same quality as the rest.

Plenty of loos, a cafe (Anita recommends the panini) and an intriguing-looking Italian Restaurant, which is open not just for lunch but evening too, implying that it's a proper restaurant - we'll see - it's now on my long and growing list of eateries for review.

The old manor itself (more like a lovely farmhouse than a traditional 'manor') isn't open to the public, but is a pretty place, and its attendant chapel, now totally dead, its windows covered in chicken wire to prevent bird damage, is also worth a look - it has a curious ruined tower next door.

I reckon this place is well worth a visit (if you're into gardens of course - if you're not, I'd give it a wide berth...) It's about 20 minutes from Greenwich by car, but much better than the same old, same old (and the horrid queues) at B&Q...

www.ruxley-manor.co.uk

Hortus

Blackheath Village, SE3

This is the kind of yummy, rather posh gardening shop that it's unlikely we'll see in Greenwich just at the moment, the nearest equivalent being the lovely florist in Royal Hill, though it's not quite the same. It is extremely tasteful in every respect ( a tad too tasteful, possibly?) and I wander around it like a little girl in Claire's Accessories, dazzled by all the finery but wondering whether my pocket money will actually stretch to anything at all.

To be honest that's not a very good analogy at all. Claire's Accessories sells cheap tat and even the poorest little ballerina can normally afford something. But cheap - in any sense of the word - is not what Hortus is about. Quality is the name of the game here, and though you'll pay for it, there is no doubt that whatever you pick up here will last longer than one party for under-10s. (That's enough dodgy analogies - Ed.)

OK, back to the gardening. Outside Hortus sits a selection of beautiful, fashionable plants, ranging from the simple to the exotic, and another selection of lovely, lovely pots to put them in. I am always particularly taken with the blue-and-white ceramic pots that come pre-weathered. I WILL buy one of those at some point.

Inside, there are lots of gardening accessories that I would say are intended more as presents - either for friends or as a personal treat - than as basics. Gorgeous gloves, pastel tools, curious ornaments and objets d'art. Not sure about the terracotta 'slug catcher' (because if it works, at some point it needs to be emptied - yeuch) but all the unusual gadgets and pretty versions of old Victorian curios are perfect for a gardening friend.

If you're not into gardens but you like being IN gardens, there is loads of 'outdoor living' stuff - barbecues, picnic gear and dozens and dozens of candles and candle holders. Once again, this is no bargain basement, but it's all LOVELY and lovely has to be paid for.

Out back there's a tiny gravel area with all the architectural plants, fibreclay and cast iron planters in traditional and contemporary designs and curious ornaments. I particularly like the potting bench (obviously not for sale) which really feels like it gets used.

Back inside again, they have a little selection of cheese and wine accessories - like labels for cellars, decanters and cheese knives. There's a small selection of books and other gifty-type things - everything beautifully and tastefully displayed. It's somewhere to visit for birthday presents. And one day I will actually buy something for me...

Apparently they also do floristry, landscaping and garden maintenance, though the website is a bit minimal on detail...

www.hortus-blackheath.co.uk

Favourite Front Gardens (3)

A totally different favourite today. I always adore walking past number 39 Whitworth St for its sheer exuberance. There's no fancy topiary shapes, no gorgeous country cottage charm, no formal splendour. Instead, behind the neat picket fence and fancy edging over a gravel base, bursts a veritable explosion of artificial flowers, jolly statuettes of animals, scarecrows, windmills and, of course, the nigh-on obligatory garden gnomes.

I am sure it's not everyone's cup of tea, but for me this is an expression of someone's personality that is just as exciting and valid as some of my other favourite gardens in Greenwich. This is a person who knows their own taste and is confident enough to absolutely go with it. No wishy-washy single gnomes or discreet plastic flowers masquerading as the real thing. The owner of this front garden likes the colour and vibrancy of artificiality and clearly gets a lot of pleasure from the concentration of baskets, pots and novelty boots full of giant faux-flowers, something I would argue is probably the only way to really 'get away' with such a look. The window box is crammed full of colour, and every corner of this minute space gleams with the zing of perky blooms.

How much more do I like this kind of thing than the garden that says nothing at all. The person who doesn't give a stuff about what they look like; the owner who leaves a pile of old fridges and broken armchairs in the front; the one who seems to think that leaving last year's hanging basket half-full of dead flowers will do; the person who makes a bit of effort but is so timid they end up saying very little.

I love all gardens that have had some thought. They might not be what I would have chosen - but they're not my space, they are someone else's and that person has had the courage to make a statement. And it is in the collection and variety of these individual statements that we find Community...

Favourite Phantom Front Gardens (2)

Maze Hill, SE10

This is about half way down Maze Hill (I couldn't see a number for all the greenery...)

Whoever lives here must spend half their life out the front - the garden is tiny - a few square feet at best -but this hasn't prevented the owners from treating it like some kind of stately home.

On the adjoining side of the semi, well-managed trees create a frame - I'm sure there's a eucalyptus in there, but it's kept under tight control and adds a wispy curtain in front of a maple(?) that's also been heavily-clipped. A date palm and cyprus give it a lush depth which only a serious plantsman would know how to create. At the centre, topiary pom-poms shoot up like a sort of mad green fountain and by the drive there are more well-clipped shrubs. The whole thing is softened by a cascade of annuals and a background of climbing roses and I love it.

It's worth walking past this house for no other reason than its sheer exuberance. These people have not let the fact that they only have a garden the size of a (ladies) handkerchief in which to express themselves get in the way of putting on a display for passers-by that puts the owners of far bigger places to shame. Not a blade of grass is left to chance, not a leaf is out of place, not a rose left un-deadheaded. The colours are restrained, but exquisite and the whole is a country house garden in miniature. It's a complete opposite to the fabulous cottage garden up at St Johns, Favourite Front Gardens (1) but nevertheless a brilliant gem to stumble upon.

I can only guess what the back garden is like, but in the meanwhile, how generous of the owners to give the rest of us a free show...

MRF Recycling Plant

The trash from a small part of one morning's collection

Nathan Way, SE28

Don't you wonder what happens to all your recycling once it goes into that blue-topped bin? It just doesn't feel right that it all goes in one bin, unsorted. How do they do it? I had imagined a little team of Ooompa Loompas sorting it all out, then wondered whether they used convicts from Belmarsh (complete with stripy outfits and balls & chains around their ankles...) Someone told me that they shipped it all to China - you know the sort of rumours that go round.

Then I heard that you could put your name down to go on a tour around the MRF plant (Materials Recycling Facility) and - well - who could resist? It took over a year for my name to turn up on the list, but it really is worth doing.

It is actually like some alternate universe version of the chocolate factory - what Willy Wonka would have built if he was into waste management. As you go in, the are lorries bringing the contents of Greenwich's blue bins - a gigantic mountain of the stuff every day. The sheer size of that mountain is extraordinary - and a sobering thought.

First of all it's fed into a terrifying-looking machine called a bag-splitter. This is something out of a cartoon - giant revolving knives ripping and shredding the sacks that we put our stuff into and loosening the contents. The sort of thing that Roger Rabbit would be straining with hands, feet and ears to avoid being pushed into by Judge Doom.

It all then goes into what looks like a gigantic tumble dryer, a Trommel Screen - it's full of gusts of air which blows out all the loose paper and light bits of plastic, sending the heavier stuff along on a conveyor belt past a massive magnet, which picks up all the ferrous metal - tin cans etc. The heavy stuff goes onto the Ballistic Separator (I forgot to say that all the machines have James Bond villain-type names) which sorts out aluminium - which is bounced off the magnet into another box. All that's left is glass and plastic.

Next comes the Piercer-Crusher Unit (see what I mean about the names) which does exactly that - pierces the plastic and crushes the glass, which is sieved out into vats below. The plastic goes onto a 21st Century piece of kit which identifies densities of plastic using infra-red beams.

Anything that's left over trundles along on a conveyor belt for the only humans in the place to check over manually. Frankly there's not much left. Everything gets baled up and sold - which helps to keep the costs down. Another thing that keeps down rates is that the plant takes in recycling from other boroughs at commercial rates.

And what does it go to?

Cardboard - corrugated card for packaging

Newspaper - reused as newspaper

Other paper - recycled as - you've guessed it - paper

Metals - can be many things such as aeroplane and car parts

Glass - crushed and used for road building in South East London

Plastics - fleece fabric, CD cases, work surfaces and, in a pleasingly cyclical twist, wheelie bins

After you've handed in your hard hat and come back for a cup of tea and a biscuit the guy talks about all the new moves and things they're planning and answers questions, more candidly than I had expected. We were given nice notebooks made out of recycled paper, pencils made out of old CDs and a splendid pencil sharpener in the shape of a wheelie bin which is the envy of all who see it.

I heartily recommend a visit - a most unusual day out - but utterly fascinating. You'll have to wait - stick your name on the list and you will get there eventually. The place doesn't smell, by the way - that's mixed dry recyclables for you. It's quite dusty - you come out wanting a shower - but not horrid.

You can put your name on the list by emailing recycling@greenwich.gov.uk

Preview: Open Gardens Day

The Pagoda, Pagoda Gardens, SE3
28, Granville Park SE13
12, Eliot Vale, SE3

15th June 6.00pm - 9.00pm

I'm sure that many people will know about this already, but I thought I'd give the rest of you a heads-up on one of the great opportunities-to-be-nosey of the year. Part of the National Gardens Scheme, three of the best private gardens in Blackheath are open for one evening only for the public to enjoy, the proceeds going to various good causes. It's an evening that I normally would not miss, though sadly I can't make it this year.

The great thing about these particular gardens is that the owners have got together and made them open on the same evening at the same time, so that, in a very civilised move, you can wander between the three of them, enjoying a glass of wine at each as the sun sets. So very civilised...

The Pagoda is probably the most famous of the three. I will come to the house itself another day - it warrants an entry on its own - but the garden is wonderful - totally in keeping with the house's history. An English interpretation of an oriental fantasy, the half-acre includes shady walks, a water garden with a suitably red lattice pergola and some truly lovely country-style planting. There is some fabulous old stonework, and a great mix of jungly/tropical and old English plants.

28 Granville Park is a long, narrow garden with separate 'rooms' - right next to the house there is a sunken area with giant ferns and palms. My overwhelming memory is of a splendid circular lawn and intense planting. There's a pond and, right at the far end, a dry garden. Plenty of shady nooks and interesting corners.

12 Eliot Vale is completely different. Designed for access (presumably there's someone with disabilities in the family) the paths are long, wide and winding, and the planting is low. The pond is raised - I assume to avoid accidents, and there's an enchanting little summerhouse in the centre. It's an odd shape - just when you think you've got to the end, it turns a corner in an extra bit that they presumably bought off the neighbours. Lovely and shady. This garden seems younger than the others to me - an extra year on, it may well have established much more. The sculptures that are dotted around may not be to everyone's taste, but it's certainly a bold idea and they add interest, mingling in with the plants.

On the surface, it's not a 'cheap' evening. Each garden costs £ 3.50 entrance fee, which notches up if you have a family, but if memory serves, this includes a glass of wine, and, let's face it, it's all for charity and it's a lovely evening. Somewhere in my mind it costs less if you go to all three. My suggestion would be to give up on the savings front and book a nice restaurant in Blackheath Village afterwards.

Enjoy - let me know what you think if you go.

BTW, I'll be coming onto the other Open Gardens - for Bexley Cottage Hospice, and in the centre of Greenwich for GreenwichAlive another day...

Favourite Phantom Front Gardens (1)

Angerstein Lane, SE3

After yesterday's agonies, I thought I go totally fluffy on you today and share one of my favourite secret local corners. It may be cheesy, but sometime's CheddarVision's just not enough...

Angerstein Lane (no prizes for guessing the provenance of that name) is one of those places that no one who stumbles upon it can quite believe is in London. A straight passageway behind the posh bit of Vanbrugh Park that curves round the edge of Blackheath - linking St John's Park and Shooters Hill Road (ok, the A2, go ahead, smash my rustic fantasies) it is merely a dotted line on the map, but a delightful leafy retreat, complete with postbox set into ancient wall, lamp posts and overarching trees straight out of one of those postcards of 'Old Blackheath' you can buy in libraries. I would turn this picture into sepia except it's so bloomin' small already it would end up fuzzy...




Much of the back of it is garages and back entrances for the big houses on Vanbrugh Park, delightfully neglected in many cases, and there is a secret little path of modern houses (Langton Way) which is so embedded that you don't notice it until it's right upon you. But the rest of this path is totally empty - save for one tiny little roses-round-the-door cottage, Number 5, nestled in the only bit of clearing that the sun manages to break through. I can't work out what happened to Numbers 1,2,3 and 4 - there is no sign that there was ever any other habitation.

At first it looks like it might be part of the giant Victorian building towering among the foliage behind it, and maybe once it was an outhouse, but it is very much a little cottage now. A low, white-walled building, it is cute in itself, but what really makes it is one of the loveliest cottage gardens I have seen in a long while. 'Designed' in that wonderfully hap-hazard style of the classic country garden, it has been clothed in traditional flowers and plants by someone who clearly spends a lot of his time out there - and who cares passionately about the bit of land that he's reclaimed from the lane at the front of his house.

It's clear the guy's grown a lot of things from seed and cuttings, supplementing with bought specialities. The first time I walked past, he was out working and I spent some time chatting to him. A very friendly soul, he happily discussed planting ideas and pointed out his favourite bits (as gardeners usually do.)He is particularly proud of a peony he's just acquired at great expense.

Though I would suspect this is not a totally new garden, it's going to take a few years to fill out, but it's already one of The Phantom's Favourite Haunts. He's created a tiny hawthorn hedge around it, though of course it will take years to get above knee height, and I suspect that he will always be delighted for fellow enthusiasts to enjoy it. And in the tradition of the true cottage gardeners, he's generous too, leaving surplus plants at the gate with a note for anyone to take them.

I thoroughly recommend this little haven as a way to feel good about the world again after yesterday's misery. Forget Chelsea Flower Show. This is real.

Reuse and Recycling Centre

Nathan Way, Plumstead, SE28

This is the bit of the Council's refuse site that we used to call "going down the dump." A few years ago it was changed to being slightly more recycling-friendly, but it has had quite a facelift recently and though not quite perfect yet, is definitely going the right way for my money.

Firstly, you now drive up onto a ramp and drop your waste into the various skips rather than risking life and limb climbing those slippery metal steps with giant bin bags. Secondly, they've designed it for fewer hold-ups (though there were still a few traffic jams when I was there.) Thirdly, they've got more different sections so that more things can be separated, which is A Good Thing. Everything from household batteries to paint and household chemicals can now be separated - which means that toxins don't leach out into the water supply whilst they're in landfill.

The big change is that they're introducing a new bit which is not dissimilar to Greenwatch, but for household items rather than office furniture. There's a new area for unwanted white goods, furniture etc, which will be reconditioned - either just cleaned if they're still working or mended if they're repairable - by young people who are being NVQ trained in this field and then either used by the council for helping needy people or young families or re-sold to the public.

I understand that goods will be on sale at the reuse and recycling centre itself, but I've also heard rumour that there will be a dedicated shop at the industrial estate in Bugsby's Way on the Peninusula. Goods will be very cheap (naturally) and if you have a Greenwich Card, they will be subject to further discounts. I think this is a great idea - and can only hope that they will expand the project to other, smaller items that might turn up in the "household waste" bins which still go to landfill. I still weep when I see what is being thrown in them. The other day I saw huge planters (the sort that cost a fair whack in B&Q,) a not-unsalvageable bicycle and some good-looking plastic boxes, all of which, given a hose-down, would have gone very happily if they were placed on Freecycle.

I totally applaud Greenwich Council for introducing all this. I believe it's a good move - especially since any money raised from the sale of these goods will go to