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.

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...

The Greenwich Park Bowl?

Fin writes:

I was walking in Greenwich Park today and came across a circular fenced-off area in the south-west corner, just north of the tennis courts. It had a rusty iron fence around it and a locked gate with signs that said 'Hazard - Keep Out'. Naturally curiosity got the better of me and i climbed in, to find a large raised area of grass like an inverted bowl. Steps ran up one side and joined an overgrown row of paving slabs running along the centre of the bowl, with some sort of metal grill right in the centre. This 'path' was also lined with what looked like those hook-shaped ventilation pipes you get on ships. I didn't venture far in case the ground gave way or something, but I am most intrigued. Can you or your readers enlighten me as to what this area is, or was? Unfortunately i didn't have a camera on me otherwise I'd send you a picture.

The Phantom replies:

What is this - Greenwich Enigma Day or something? This seems almost as much of a mystery as Miss Mott.

There is so much to be discovered in that seemingly tiny patch we call Greenwich Park that it doesn't surprise me that there's something new and hitherto undiscovered somewhere off the beaten track. I vaguely know where you're talking about, I think. I wonder - is it in line with the red brick building that's part of the underground water system? It could be part of the notorious tunnels in Greenwich Park which date back several hundred years (see The Greenwich Phantom: Tunnels in Greenwich Park ) but it sounds too recent to really be connected with it. Given the way that the land seems to cave in at a moment's notice round here you were probably wise not to tread any further. It does sound like a reservoir. Something banging at the back of my brain tells me that Greenwich University did some low-level experiments in the park way back, but I thought it was all cleared away. Actually, I may be completely wrong; thinking about it, it could have been the Peninsula. Or somewhere else entirely.

Basically what I'm saying is that I don't know. I'm hoping that someone from the Friends of Greenwich Park will read this and be able to tell you. In the meanwhile, I'll do a spot of digging (not literal.) Watch this space.

When is someone going to write a really in-depth topographical study of Greenwich Park? Or is there already one that I don't know about?

Incidentally, folks, I'm sure Fin wouldn't mind my telling you about his own website that he 'accidentally' left the address of on the bottom of his mail. He's a local playwright and poet and you can find him here http://www.finkennedy.co.uk/

Prior Street - and Allotments

Prior St, SE10

Continuing my look at Greenwich Streets I've turned out of Circus St into Prior St - a short, sweet little road which climbs gently up to meet Royal Hill before theoretically turning into Point Hill.

The houses in this pretty little street are mainly terraced and flat-fronted, with little canopies over the doors, which makes me think, in my untutored way, that they are Georgian rather than Victorian. Some single, some double-fronted, most also have basements. Some have loft conversions, but these look like historic rather than modern affairs. Every so often there are the occasional interesting-looking garage-like doors to what looks like back-entrances built into the terraces.

Once again I don't know anyone in this road - so if you live here or know someone who does, I'd welcome additions and comments about it. Is it a good road to live in? Are the natives friendly?

At the top are some of what must be the poshest allotments in Greenwich. When I was looking for an allotment myself, I came across the Prior St gardens and salivated. They are run by a separate group to the council, but (now) come under its protection. It wasn't always that way.

They're an odd shape because, apparently, they are the site of the old railway line that joined Nunhead to Greenwich which only lasted between 1871 and 1917. I assume it was derelict for a while before becoming briefly a lorry park and a garden centre.

Over the years the allotments have had threats to their existence - not least from when the council wanted to close the allotments to build 23 houses. A splendid campaign was fought and mostly won (the council just took enough land to build two houses in the end.) Huzzah for the people -it proves it can be done occasionally. The other plots are now protected under the Allotment Act, though I doubt I will ever land one of them.

Judging from the number of them (18) and the size of some of the gardens round here (tiny) I should have put my name down at birth for one here and I'd have probably still been waiting even then. The person at the top of the 100-strong waiting list went on in 1998, so that's only nine years so far. So some time to go yet...

Still when allotments are as beautifully kept and enjoyed as these clearly are, it's hard to be anything other than delighted by this place. It even has its own website - http://www.priorstgardens.org.uk/ with some pretty pictures and info about them.

Micro Eco Park on the Peninsula

No - not the "official" one - which I'll come to another day. This tiny little eco park is about a tenth of the size of the 'proper' one and I confess I've walked past it on several occasions without realising what it was or even, if I'm honest, that it was there at all.

It's round the back of the Teletubby Sainsburys - presumably some kind of Section 106 set-aside, and it takes approximately 1 minute to walk round, but it's nevertheless a delight to stumble upon, and once the sundry consortia who have carved up the Peninsula have covered what is green and lovely now with coloured concrete boxes, it will be an even more welcome haven for animals, insects, birds and even the odd walker.

It's basically a couple of wetland-pond-ish-marshy dips, filled with reeds, rushes and, at the moment, some beautiful yellow irises. There are saplings of what look like some sort of willow (?) dotted around and a little fenced area with some young apple trees - I have no idea of the variety, but I'm hoping they're either native or at least heritage breeds.

A little (pretty-accessible) path winds its way around the site - it takes a couple of minutes to march around it, slightly longer to wander. There are no signs, plaques or even gates - but it's such a welcome corner, tucked behind a shopping centre and surrounded by a hedge of mixed British plants - even the back of Sainsburys itself doesn't 'loom' over the area (and presumably provides a nice place for employees to enjoy a quiet fag) that it's worth seeking out as a five minute excursion of peace from the madness that is that sodding Peninsula car park.

Winter Gardens

Avery Hill Park, Eltham

Ok - so it's not actually Greenwich - so shoot me - it's in the borough and everyone needs to get out occasionally...


The Winter Gardens at Eltham are one of those surprising little places which make being a tourist in your own borough worthwhile. Clearly with a name like that, I waited until deepest January to visit, picking a bright, clear and bloomin' freezing afternoon to pack up a flask and buns and head off towards the Eltham Campus of Greenwich University.

It's not a generally exciting building complex, Greenwich University's Eltham Campus now occupying what's left of self-made millionaire 'Colonel' John Thomas North's mansion - which is why when you do discover the hothouse it's all the more delightful.

It was built during the 1830s but not an awful lot happened to it until the colourful 'Colonel' bought it in 1888.

North had started out, it is said, as a gun runner in South America where he'd gone to build railways (it's amazing how one can get sidetracked, isn't it...) but eventually found his fortune in seagull guano, wich any fule no makes great fertiliser.

But being a shit importer has never guaranteed success on the social ladder, and though North had made a pile Oop North on the where-there's-muck-there's-brass ticket, and though he had heaped largesse on the good folk of Leeds he still just didn't seem to get invited to the right parties.

He decided to buy Avery Hill and do it up so that he could have a swanky London pad. He had the main road moved to Bexley so that he wouldn't actually have to come in contact with the South London riffraff and spent over £ 200,000 on the interior design alone. He commissioned TW Cutler to remodel it in the popular Italianate style, but Cutler went overbudget even for the likes of North and was sacked; his assitant promoted in his place.

North was responsible for the fabulous hothouse, which he presumably fertilised with his own imports, but at the time it wasn't the hothouse which was the star of the show. Instead an outrageous three-roomed Turkish bath took pride of place - with tiled walls, marble floors and silver fittings, it outshone the other big Turkish baths at the time and the architectural critics were agog.

His home complete, North was made an honourary Colonel in Tower Hamlets but what he really wanted was a knighthood.

He invited the Prince of Wales to tea, but it would seem that Bertie wasn't overawed by the experience. North never did get his knighthood. He lived only another five years in his creation before his death in 1896.

His family, unimpressed with the extravagance, immediately put Avery Hill on the market. It took two years to sell, and even then it went for considerably less than North paid for it. The new owner never moved in.

It's been in the hands of the council since 1902 - they bought it and the park for £ 25,000 - a bit of a bargain even then. What's left of the house is now part of the uni but the hothouses and park are open to the public - and a splendid job they have done too, maintaining it - it can't be a cheap thing to do.

If you're driving, you enter through the grounds of the uni, you can park in what must have once been a walled kitchen garden (well, I did, anyway...) and walk around to the astonishingly large palm house, heated even in the darkest, dankest of winter months to house the exotic plants so fashionable amongst wealthy Victorians and Edwardians.

In the centre, a giant Norfolk Pine dominates the view, and to either side of the red-brick glasshouses are smaller, delicate little rooms. The one to the left provides a great place to sit and contemplate on a late winter afternoon as it makes the most of what watery sun there is, the only interruption the odd university group using it as a film location or for a botany lesson. The one to the right has a replica of a beautiful marble fountain (the original was half-inched) playing over cyclamen and fernery.

The greenery of the park tumbles away down the hill towards football pitches and dull suburban housing, but here is a little corner which will be forever Victorian splendour. Enjoy...


BTW. Sadly, the Turkish baths were bombed to buggery in WWII, but there is a fantastic account of them by Victorian Turkish Bath specialist Malcolm Shifrin at

http://www.victorianturkishbath.org/6DIRECTORY/AtoZEstab/Houses/Avery/AverySF.htm

Glenister Green

Woolwich Road

This has to be one of the wierdest open spaces in the area. Surrounded on three sides by housing, edged by the "iconic" (ahem) Mr Fast Fry and every inch of it clearly visible from the road, it is, inexplicably, one of the creepiest parks I know of.

I have definitely never ventured in, for a very good reason, which I will explain in a moment, but I walk past it on a regular basis and I can now confirm that I have NEVER SEEN ANYONE ELSE IN THERE EITHER. I have a theory about that too.

Could it be because it's poorly lit? Certainly not. It was part of the grand "improvements" of East Greenwich which I suspect somebody's Section 106 paid for, and which gave it random paths (I went to the "consultation - ha-bloody-ha - and listened to the "consultant" who designed it talking about what the paths all meant - the usual arty bullshit which makes you nod in puzzled agreement at the time and think "what the bloody hell was that all about" later.) As far as I can make out, the paths make people walk in specific directions which deliberately avoid the quickest route so they can enjoy the open space, which frankly gives more of a labyrinthine feel than any kind of pleasure of the countryside.

The consultant also gave it copious lighting - halogen, which are very low and directional - presumably to prevent light pollution, which I am actually very much in favour of. The "transformation is completed with suspicious-looking litter bins and the re-erected mural that used to be on the wall of Greenwich District Hospital. I'm all for saving it - and am glad to see it back, but they've put it together again with such gaps between the panels that it has an odd, disjointed feel about it. They've saved the trees, the place's best (read "only") feature but there is no grass - merely large patches of ankle-height weeds, which are at least green.

It's taken me a long while to work out exactly why I find this place so eerie - especially when it is SO visible and SO well-lit. Then it struck me - it's the transformation itself that's done it. There's something deeply unhealthy about those low pools of street light - where anything can happen - where you could find yourself, not being able to see beyond the light into the darkness, swallowed up into some nightmarish vision - a parallel Universe of Doom.

If I were to walk in there might I reach some kind of mythical centre and disappear for ever into a dimensional timeshift bigger than the one in Cardiff? Could I one day actually witness an unsuspecting stranger walking through the park and suddenly disappear off the face of the earth or even spontaneously combust? I calm myself with the thought that no one would voluntarily walk into this trap.

I guess it's possible that Glenister Green doesn't exist at all - that it's a hologram - hiding a portal to another world. Perhaps that mural is merely a cover for a control panel - press the sailor's duffle bag and you'll find yourself on the operating table of a visiting alien ship.

I find it hard to believe that anywhere as small, weedy and, well - visible - could be so sinister but somehow that place makes my blood run cold. And I can't be alone in this - no one goes there. You might think it would be a meeting ground for the local youth - but even they steer clear. One of these days I will, saveloy in hand, lie in wait in Mr Fast Fry watching for unsuspecting mothers with pushchairs, men with dogs or teenagers with spraycans to walk into the Venus Flytrap that is Glenister Green. If I see them come out again, whole and un-gibbering, I will feel it is safe to venture in myself. If they disappear before my very eyes I will become a full-time conspiracy theorist and start staking out the Superloo next to the Cutty Sark. Only if I hear grating sounds and see a police box materialise under those halogen lamps I will relax.

Until then there is something deeply wrong down Woolwich Road. I intend to keep walking on the other side of the main road, well away from those innocent park railings and creepy pools of harsh neon light.

The post office opposite has just been refurbished - I am told there is to be a basement "internet café." A likely story. It's clearly the public front of the Greenwich branch of Torchwood monitoring the activity at Glenister Green.

East Greenwich Pleasaunce and Friends

Yesterday we went to a rather sweet little event at the East Greenwich Pleasaunce, - carols in the park with mulled wine, mince pies and Father Christmas, who turned up in a tinsel-covered sports car. It was rather low-key, of course - the FEGP are very new – but it will get bigger, I hope - it was sort of fun in a "local carols for local people" kind of way. The "male voice choir," not one under the age of 900, was festively dressed in Victorian garb, and though they didn't seem too sure of any of the words, or indeed the tunes, it was all very seasonal. Kiddies queued up in pretty much equal numbers to see Santa or sit in his decorated car - almost a bigger draw than the Man Himself. Admittedly we didn't last very long - two cups of mulled wine, to be precise, but it's important to support events like this, and we might have stayed longer had we not both trodden in dog crap, which somewhat dulled the atmosphere.

East Greenwich Pleasance

It's a funny little park - surrounded by Annadale Road to the West, the railway to the South, Chevening Road to the North and Halstow to the East. It was the overspill cemetery for the old naval hospital and there are still about 3,000 seamen buried there (including veterans of Trafalgar and The Crimea,) under great slabs of Victorian gravestone in the shape of anchors, rope etc. It's got a fab old wall around the outside, which has what's left of a row of pollarded limes around it - sadly they're not very well thanks to the long hot summers we've been having. There's a small kiddies playground and a couple of areas where dogs aren't allowed though you still need to look out for your feet - it's Dog-crap City in places, as we regularly found during a rare outburst of keep-fit activity and started trying to run every morning in the park (that lasted an, ahem, limited time.)

There's supposed to be a lot of wildlife there but apart from the ubiquitous squirrels, foxes and the odd garden bird, I've not really seen that much. The main gate is in Chevening Road, with some rather splendid iron railings (don't be fooled by the big gates looking closed - they usually only open the side one,) and another more recent one provided by one of those fab Section 106 agreements which forces local developers to give something back to the community at the railway end of Halstow Road. Occasionally the council forgets to open this one, so if the park is open but these are closed, it's worth reminding them. If they're not reminded, they tend to treat EGP as a bit of a poor relation to the bigger Well Hall Pleasaunce in Eltham. Pah.

Friends of East Greenwich Pleasaunce

Well - it's pretty obvious really - they're a bunch of local people who encourage "the use and enhancement of East Greenwich Pleasaunce." They're quite new – only inaugurated in 2006 - but they have big ideas - a cafe and - heavens above - working toilets, and they have little events from time to time. Maybe because they're new, maybe because they're small or maybe because they're not involved with something Royal, this lot are a whole lot less stuffy than the nearby Friends of Greenwich Park.