Faded Greenwich (11)

Not the advertised post today, folks. I decided I wanted to find out some more information before posting, and am having difficulties doing so, so instead I bring you, courtesy of the Phantom Faded Greenwich Hunter, Roger, Number Eleven in the series...

It's on the side of Number 35, Blackheath Road (just before it becomes Blackheath Hill, a few metres before the turning for Greenwich South Street) and, as far as I can read, it's advertising a plumbers' merchants. Since this is a little alley, if memory serves, I'm guessing the actual premises were down there, and they were just using the side of the house as a hoarding. Of course, I suppose the merchant himself might have lived in the house.

A lot of the houses along that part of Blackheath Road are really rather lovely - and, presumably before the A2 became quite so congested, were probably very posh indeed. I particularly like the ones with the little wrought iron balconies, though some of them really have seen better days now.

Anyone know anything about this plumber?

More Greenwich Power Station Pics

People seemed to be so pleased to see the pictures of Greenwich Power Station Peter shared with us last week (blimey - was it only last week? It feels like months ago...) that he's sent me a few more. The picture above is of the current turbine hall, running parallel to but much lower-ceilinged than the glorious Edwardian one.

At the very end of the main steam turbine hall is a gas compression plant. It's sealed in a huge concrete room, but the engines that drive the compressor pumps stand outside:

Peter couldn't get any pictures of the inside of that section as they had to leave all electronic devices outside when they went in there, but he tells me there are some lovely multi-chamber compressors in there (being an ignorant Phantom I'm not entirely sure a multi-chamber compressor is, but I'm sure they're fabulous.)


This is what the turbines themselves look like (I particularly like the creepy hands):

The last picture for today that Peter sent me that confirms what I've always suspected - that the old pier that used to land the coal to power the station would make an incredible place for a tea-rooms. I mean - just look at the view from it:

Don't you think that security considerations where the pier meets the 'secret' part could be dealt with to create a new either open-air or glass-surrounded venue? I'm sure they could cordon off part of the station inside that's not being used securely enough for kitchens (separate entrance, high walls, yadda, yadda) and create an exciting new public entrance on the beach or the Thames Path, like a spiral staircase or a glass lift or something to make the most exciting tea rooms on the Thames?

The Quiet Meridian

There's been a lot of hoo-ha about the Meridian recently (its 125th anniversary was last year). And if you go to the Observatory on any day of the year you'll find hoards of tourists queuing up to straddle the shiny line representing the imaginary delineation between East and West so their mates can take a picture of them.

I have never seen anyone having their photo taken straddling this part of the Meridian line, yet in many ways it's just as charming as the 'big one' and with some really curious stuff to be had in the background...

I don't recall these little plaque/paving/stud markings being created; I'm guessing the millennium - but so much was happening that year, it's impossible to remember everything. Like much that's in Park Vista, not least the Plume of Feathers (or the 'Plumbe' of Feathers as described in the temporary road sign during the Trafalgar Road works) it's 'our' little corner, protected from the bulk of tourists.

While you're there, don't miss the only Tudor building above ground in Greenwich, now part of the vicarage - the wall was specially cut-out by a Victorian vicar so that people could see the plaque on the old conduit head. It's worth seeking out the other plaques and decorations in Park Vista for a bit of fun on the way to the Plume for your Sunday lunch...

Furry Green Velvet Steps

Something I love about Greenwich Beach is that although virtually no one does go down onto it (it's ridiculously under-used...) everybody can go down onto it. The steps are open and available (as they are at various places along the Thames in the city. Many public-spirited people have discovered them over the past week on the big spring tide cleaning project, but they are open all the time.)

I just love these steps - at low tide they're great for sitting on and enjoying of a Summer's day; at high tide, they're gently lapped by the river.

But I was walking past yesterday and noticed that the winter weather's had quite an impact on them - they're suddenly almost furry with seaweed. A bright green velvet pile, they're beautiful to look at - but mighty slippery.

The worst thing that could happen would be for the Health and Safety police to close it off rather than just give them a clean, so I'm almost hesitant to suggest that, pretty as they are at the moment, they're a mite slippery too. I'm not really sure who's responsible for the upkeep of the steps but they could do with a good scrub. In the meanwhile, take care if you're fancying a spot of beach combing.

Folks - don't you think we should start thinking about interesting things to do with Greenwich Beach this summer? Deckchairs and 99s, anyone?

Five Foot Walk

This has to be one of the first examples of a pre-Section 106 forcing of institutions or companies to make provision of access to all, and, in many ways set a precedent that continues with the Thames Path (albeit shakily sometimes, with some of the large developments quietly just locking the gates of some parts when the initial fuss has died down. Must do something about that...)

When Christopher Wren designed Greenwich Hospital, finishing the development at the shoreside seemed like a great idea to improve security around the area, but the townsfolk didn't share his opinion. They used that way all the time and they weren't happy having any of their routes closed off to them. Hell - even the Queen had had to build her palace with a bridge going over the road a little further south. The people weren't going to let this valuable communications corridor stop them getting to places.

The authorities can't have been happy about it. It meant extra work, extra cost and the loss of land. What was worse, whenever the sovereign arrived, there'd be hobbledy-hoi loitering around the King's Steps.

I often find myself wondering what kind of pressure the people must have put on the Navy to get what they wanted - I mean in those days developers were no more happy to listen to locals than they are now. Whatever it was I'd like a piece of it now. They succeeded, albeit by a squeak.

The authorities gave in in 1731, creating an embankment exactly wide enough to walk down, and nothing else. A little lane, five feet wide, beach one side, the iron railings of the ORNC the other, that in the summer, tourists still shuffle down towards the Trafalgar Tavern, though passage is much easier now that cyclists are redirected through the ORNC (my favourite bit of Greenwich for cycling, smooth and open - and yet I still see idiots crashing their way through the Five Foot Walk on bikes. What gives?)

It's not very long - just skirting round the ORNC, but it has a real charm, with a great view both sides of it, lovely old railings and weathered stone slab paving. Fabulous worn steps still allow you to get onto Greenwich Beach, though not many people go there these days. Shame, really.

It widens out at each end - east, where of a warm summer's evening people spill out from the Trafalgar pub to enjoy a pint, as in Benedict's picture above, or west, sit by Bellot's Obelisk with a M&S sandwich. It tends to get flooded if there's rain at Spring Tide (Sarah captured this at an Autumn one). Happily as I look out of the window it's sunny just now. Phew.

And Then There Was One

Continuing from our transport-related discussions yesterday, Roger asked a question I've often wondered about (and then told me the answer - the best kind of ask) - where's the third boat on the Woolwich Ferry just now?

Hull.

That's right. Hull, where the third boat is undergoing a major refit - not really a surprise given they're all 46 years old. What puzzles me is how it got there - there's no way it would ever fit on even the lowest of low-loaders. So presumably it arrived either by chugging around the coast under its own steam (well, diesel) or majestically travelling by tug. That would have been a sight.

I must find some more out about the Woolwich Ferry. I know there's a book by the splendid Julian Watson (with Wendy Gregory, I believe) called Free For All; must seek it out. West London may have more bridges than us, but I think travelling by boat is so much more romantic. Yes, even with all those fumes and queues. And only two boats.

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!

East Greenwich Library

I've been getting increasingly concerned at the state of East Greenwich Library. Whereas its sister in West Greenwich, also funded by the philanthropist Andrew Carnegie's foundation in the early years of the last century continues to be a well-loved - and used - part of the community, the Woolwich Road version gets ever tattier, ever lonelier and seemingly ever fewer books.


I go in there occasionally, and I would like to go in more often, but it's been a long while since there was actually a book I wanted to get out - the selection seems to consist of large-print romances, technical manuals and kiddies' picture books (though there is a small section of local history volumes.) The place was clearly once rather grand, but now it just has a sad air of neglect, almost as though it's waiting a fate of doom.

What that doom would be, no one seems to know. The building is Grade II listed, but, in a chilling conversation I will never forget that I had with a pimply young promotions guy at the blink-and-you'd-miss-it 'consultation' for the Heart of East Greenwich (all rather a long while ago now...) I discovered listing won't necessarily save it. The arrogant young pup announced with great glee that only the facade is listed - they can do what they like with the rest (and yes, that's not far off the exact words he used.)

While he's hopefully been hurriedly bundled off for 're-training' - the last thing they need is someone who's actually truthful at these events - that doesn't help us.

The pictures of deep-down rot on this post were taken by Charlie, who's also very concerned about what's to become of the library. He says:

"Currently, the building’s central heating system isn’t working, the flat above the front of the building is condemned and about 1/3 of the building’s lying derelict. It’s a real shame, and I’m hoping to get a question asked at Council about what the library’s future is, particularly since the proposed replacement in the “Heart of East Greenwich” project is looking more distant than ever."

I bet you didn't know there's a Friends of East Greenwich Library. I didn't either - and they're not easy to find. They don't have a website but they do have good intentions in their hearts - and a track record. Terry Wheeler says:

"The library campaign in East Greenwich was started by Richard & Molly Bartlett in the early 90's and I became very active within the group and after what Bob Harris, (our opponent in the council) described as a brilliant campaign, following our listing of the building, East Greenwich Library was saved.

Sadly, at a price, because they shut half of the building down, reduced the opening hours and the stock to a fraction of what it was and got rid of our wonderful old oak shelving and called it a model library."


"Following a report in Greenwich Time that a sum of £1.3m for five libraries but with nothing for East Greenwich, we started writing to the press and contacting our councillors about our library with the result that in September, we had a meeting with John Fahy who is going to get some work done to make the building more waterproof, clean the front and do some redecoration."

"It was finally admitted by councillor Fahy at that meeting that the new 'wonder' library we have been told we should be grateful for, which will be ready by 2012, will not, actually be ready, for at least 4 years, if not five.When I saw Dick Quibell, he said that they needed to have the social housing in place first before the new library would be built in order to generate some income. I understand there are problems with funding for the old hospital site, so my guess is that it could be six, if not seven years away, if then. I for one, like the library, where it is, in the building it has been in since 1905. Carnegie got it right.

We also managed to get the council to clear the blocked drain outside the library which had caused flooding in the library through the floor every time there was heavy rain. The gutters in the Tunnel Avenue part of the building were cleared of weeds and grass following representations to our councillors. We have suggested that flat above the library be repaired and let to generate income, and, indeed, suggested this over ten years ago.

Our library, and it's building, which is listed, has been severely neglected despite the efforts we made to get it repaired and the suggestions we have made to the council over the years to help generate some income.Despite the obligations of the council to upkeep this listed building, it has taken a lot of effort by numerous members of our group to start things moving."

So - what can we do to help push things along? Well, firstly, we need to let the council know we do give a damn.

I know it's hard when there aren't really any books in the library to borrow (although I can see that for short-sighted romantics and parents with bookworm kiddies it's still very useful) but if there's some way that we can tell them we don't want to lose what we have now, and, when the magical Heart of East Greenwich finally gets built we don't want it sold off for luxury flats but used for something community-related, then maybe it's not completely doomed after all.

Writing to John Fahy would be good - I suspect Mary Mills is already batting on the side of the library - and letting the print-press know (especially Greenwich Time, who have suggested that the money outlined for various libraries but not East Greenwich could be an 'oversight' - not that the 'mistake' has ever been rectified...)

If you're wanting to really get your hands dirty here, you can also contact Terry by emailing him - feglig@yahoo.co.uk.

Inside Our Best Buildings (1) Vanbrugh Castle

Vanbrugh Castle is one of those subjects I periodically return to from time to time - and hey - why not - it's one of the most curious, secretive buildings we have. Most of us have never seen inside the gates, let alone inside the place itself. I was enjoying a picnic on One Tree Hill last summer and saw people on the roof garden (Vanbrugh lead-lined it so he could use it himself.) I confess I was one very jealous Phantom.

So today, I'm starting a new (very, very) occasional series, where I play at being Lloyd Grossman (now that's not a phrase I ever thought I'd write...) and take Nosy Neighbours on tours around Greenwich's best private buildings.

Since I have no more access than anyone else on this one, I'll be relying on you lot to tell me all about fab places around here - so if you visit somewhere lovely (or even live in one of our best buildings???) I would LOVE to hear from you.

I make no apology for returning to Vanbrugh Castle yet again (the first visit was a couple of years ago and we've been back several times since.) Because today, courtesy of Michael who spent a pleasant afternoon there recently, I bring you a sketch of what this incredible, strange construction is like inside now (aw- c'mon - don't tell me you've never wondered...)

The place is divided into four apartments. Today it would have been carved up into about fifty rabbit-hutches with all manner of nasty plasterboard walls, where the whole thing would collapse if you stuck so much as a drawing pin into the paper-thin membrane between you and your neighbour, but Vanbrugh Castle wasn't converted in these times.

It was the late '70s when local lawyer Alistair Wilson saw the old pile up for sale for £100,000. That was a lot of money then and he couldn't afford it all by himself so he advertised for people to go in with him on the project. He got three replies, so the house was divided into four. There isn't, according to old newspaper reports, an awful lot of heavy partitioning - just a few blocked-up doors and one dividing wall.

There are two apartments in the 1716 towery-turrets, one in the middle, which is part Victorian, part Edwardian, and one detached from the main house, in the bit nearest the entrance that would almost certainly have originally been a stables or coach-house. There are extensions, but only two-storey, and (I'm told) in keeping with its Grade I listed status.

Michael tells me that there is just one of the original four owners left, living in the oldest part of the castle - but that the apartments seldom change hands - two were last sold 20 years ago; the middle one which he visited was bought 5 years ago.

It's an airy modern family home, and sounds like it has a few partitions to make it a sensible place to live. The ground floor used to be the games room when it was the RAF children's school. It's now bathrooms and bedrooms, with high ceilings and fabulous arched doorways. There's also a sympathetic extension containing a magnificent kitchen (yup, I'm drooling all over my keyboard here).

Upstairs, it used to be the boys' dormitory - but it's easy to see why the bedrooms have now been moved downstairs - the view is staggering, and the upstairs is now an enormous sitting room, looking out over Greenwich Park then London itself. Michael spotted the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye from there.

I'm finding it hard to imagine room for a two-acre garden out the back (though of course in Vanbrugh's time it would have been much bigger) - everything looks so built-up down Maze Hill way - but it just goes to show how many places in London do still have enormous grounds. Sadly Chez Phantom isn't one of them...

Part of the grounds are formal gardens but there are also lawns, a large cottage vegetable garden (the Phantom swoons...) the outline of where the old school tennis courts once were, an underground garden room and the old 1950s school gym, before you get to the path leading down to the boundary with the Westcombe Woodland (again, I can never work out exactly how the Woodland actually fits in...) Sadly it lost most of its crenellated walls long ago.

Michael didn't get to go into the really old bit with the turrets, but form the gardens he spotted the rooftop gardens and the glass viewing room on the castle roof itself. He says "With such incredible views from the first floor in the house I visited, I can only imagine how breathtaking it must be from the castle roof!" Me too, Michael, me too.

And what of the fabled tunnels? Sadly Michael didn't get to see those either, though he is assured they're "real, very low, and that they are believed to go under the woods towards the river direction with speculation that they may have been for escape, or water tunnels for the Tudor Palace once, or some other purpose." I have a horrid feeling the water tunnels are more likely than the escape routes, but I'm a romantic Phantom, so I'll run with the former anyway.

So there we have it - a little tour around Vanbrugh Castle. But there are about twenty houses I'd give my cloak and tricorn to see inside - if you've ever visited one, and can give me a description, I'd just love to hear from you. I won't give you a wish list - just hit me with any places that have inspired you...

Quiet Shame

Back in September, during Open House weekend, I went to visit the Royal Artillery Barracks in Woolwich - a curious building with a curious history. But I'm not talking about that today, I'm more concerned with something I learned that morning which has been troubling me ever since.

Our group was shown round the barracks by the man in charge - always good to get the head honcho - and I took the opportunity to ask about the fate of the Rotunda.

For those of you who aren't aware of this very, very odd building, tucked away behind a screen of trees and a fence of barbed wire (the photos here are the best I could do back in the summer - there's just no way of really seeing it any more...), it's a weird tent-like structure, which started out as exactly that - a tent.

John Nash built it in 1814, in the grounds around Carlton House Gardens. It was the centrepiece of six tents created to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon (so what if it was all a bit previous...)

Everyone liked the tent so much that Nash decided that it was too good just to take down again, so he hit upon the idea of surrounding the tent walls with brick, and covering the canvas roof with a rather splendid, sweeping lead version to protect the original. I guess the equivalent would be if someone put a giant metal dome over the top of the O2.

The whole thing was moved to Woolwich in 1820, to become the Museum of Artillery - which it was for about 180 years. It even got a revamp in 1975.

When the Woolwich Arsenal was turned into what it is now, it was decided to create Firepower, and all the stuff was moved from the Rotunda to the new museum. They're still moving the last cannons, I understand. Here's one:

What one makes of Firepower is an individual matter. But the question of what happens to the Rotunda next is one that I'd never fully got to the bottom of.

It's completely closed, with high fences and the aforementioned trees, though it would have once had fantastic views - for miles around. I knew that the place had reverted to the MOD so I took the opportunity of asking our guide what would be happening.

Frankly, after he told me (he was completely, and typically militarily up-front about it) the rest of the weekend was a bit of a downer for me and I've been trying to get my head around it ever since.

When the final cannons go (and they may have gone by now, though I doubt it - they're big buggers) the place will 'have the lights turned off.' That, to you and me, means it will just be left, to moulder away. No access, no views, just a quiet rotting into the earth.

It's economics, of course, that dictate this. The guy told me it takes sixty-odd grand a year just to stop the place collapsing (it faces special architectural problems due to its 'unusual' construction) and he has other drains on his finances - not least huge amounts of military memorabilia that finds its way into his hands which he's supposed to lovingly curate.

I expressed my distress at this news, trying hard to lower my voice from the strangulated squeak it had become. He said that he would be interested in talking to anyone that could make a financial go of leasing it - after all - it's a liability - sixty grand a year before you do anything to it (and I'm not sure if they're even going to spend that when they finally go...)

I would SO love to see something happen to this - but what - and with what kind of cash? The place is listed (of course) but there's no real stick to beat the MOD with if they just let it moulder. It's out of the way - I can't even see what it could be used for - but hell - this is a John Nash building that is at the very least 'exotic.' Surely there's something...

James Wolfe Memorials

John asks:

"Could you let me know please if you know of a photo/pic of General Wolf's tomb in St Alfege's Church crypt. I have just missed the annual tour last week. But I would like to see a photo of his tomb. I used to go to James Wolfe School in 1956-9. I wonder if you can see above ground in the crypt or is it out of sight beneath the ground and that is why there is not a photograph of it ?"

The Phantom is mighty cross at missing the annual tour of the crypt. I was only peering through the gaps in the doors down below a few days ago and wondering if it ever opened. Bah. Stupid me for not enquiring earlier. Now I'll have to wait a year.

The Independance Breakfast Club, a group of local business professionals who meet up at Devonport House every Tuesday morning, went on an outing there and there's a write up here with a picture of the Wolfe Family tomb.

I did try to find some pictures I know I have of the stained glass window and the plaque to James Wolfe inside the church. Sadly my computer has re-ordered all the files and they are lost somewhere in the ether.

Underground Greenwich (15) Macartney House

It's so easy to pass by this secretive building without really seeing it. You might catch a flash of blue from the plaque on the wall, park side, commemorating its most famous occupant, General James Wolfe, but Macartney House usually sits quietly behind a screen of foliage unnoticed by - well - anyone, really.

It runs quietly both sides - along a secluded side of the park at the back, and a largley car-less part of the top of Crooms Hill, Chesterfield Walk, at the front. It's part of a rural Greenwich that it's easy to forget in the bustle of the town itself, I always think I'm walking into the countryside when I get that high up the hill.

I have an obscure reason for mentioning it today, which I'll get to later, but firstly, what I know about the place.

It was originally two houses, built around 1675, which merged into one in 1717. Parts of the house still exist, though they've been altered almost beyond recognition. Of course, this is fairly academic to those of us who will never see them - it's still privately owned.

Since then, it's been an organic series of alterations and extensions, one of which was by Sir John Soane in 1802. I have no idea whether he brought his famous lightwells into the section he built - though it does have large round-headed windows, so I'm guessing he did his best.

The biggest changes were made in 1925, when it was turned into (pretty superior) flats.

If you see it from Chesterfield Walk, don't do what I did and miss the 'rare early wall letterbox' of 1861' that Darryl Spurgeon mentions, or the 18th Century tethering post outside what used to be the stables. If you nose in through the gate, the bit to your left is from 1855, the middle from 1717 and on your right Soane's additions from 1802. The cottage is a 1925 adaptation of the old coachman's cottage.

The reason I'm mentioning it today is because I wanted an excuse to write another Underground Greenwich entry and, of course, Macartney House, like so many in Crooms Hill, has its own secret passage. Our good friend John Stone, never one for flinching at a good pothole, explored it himself.

The entrance was under a slab in the scullery floor (I'm guessing it's not a scullery any more, chiz - this was before it was turned into flats) and he climbed down via a ladder. Presumably in Edwardian times, when he did this, he'd still have had to clutch some sort of oil lamp - no funky flashlights yet. I have a wonderful image in my mind of a bewhiskered gentlemen in tweed climbing (including deerstalker, of course) clutching a notebook and lantern. He discovered that the tunnel, though short, had two branches, at one end of which was a well 'of considerable depth' and still contained water.

Lord, how I'd love to know what has become of all these tunnels and wells in Crooms Hill (and, of course all over Greenwich.) I still live in hope that I'll be invited to one of the cocktail parties that I understand get held in an old cave made into a grotto many, many moons ago, which may or may not be in Diamond Terrace. I guess it must be the postal strike that's delayed my invite...

In the meanwhile, I'll just have to keep dreaming. Or I could (and here's the clumsy link, folks) join one of Anthony Durham's Underground Greenwich walks.

Several of you have been asking about these rare-to-the-point-of-legend walks, and I'm happy to say he is conducting one this Sunday, 11th October 2009. Meet at the foot tunnel entrance at 2.00pm - I'm not sure how much he'll be charging, but I vaguely remember before it was around a fiver.

It's not for the faint-hearted. Although I understand it is all overground, (he admits "in a lot of places we will perforce have to stand at ground level and learn about voids underneath that are either inherently inaccessible or have been sealed up by officialdom.") he's an energetic speaker and you'll cover a lot of ground, including several hills, going right into Blackheath and back. I didn't make it last year, and sadly I'm not going to make this one either, but I remember people saying it was long (he reckons about 2 hours) and quite intense, but utterly fascinating.

Let me know how it goes...

The Anson Gates

I've been meaning to talk about these gates for bloomin' ever. They're the entrance most tourists use these days (though if I was bringing someone for the first time, I'd be tempted to nip up along the five foot walk to the King's Steps for the sheer grandeur of it all) and they look so solid, it's almost impossible to imagine that they haven't been there forever.

But the whole lot - the heavy rustication, the serious porters' lodges, those giant globes - used to be a good hundred yards away. They lived just outside the King Charles Building, from when they were built in 1751 until 100 years later, after a bit more land had been begged, borrowed or just sat on by the hospital. It's hard to imagine that they now stand on what was once a warren of grotty little medieval alleys - a bit like the ones we were talking about a couple of days ago, around the docks to the other side. Turnpin Lane is the nearest we get to what it was all like at one point.

I'm sure I have a photo somewhere of the East Gates, but my computer decided to re-order my files and now I can't find anything. I'll get another pic (when I get another camera) but the East Gates were built around the same time, and are very similar but aren't nearly as cool because they don't have splendid globes on top like the West Gates.

They're called the 'Anson Gates' because they're broadly commemorating a rather disastrous (in all respects other than for his pocket) circumnavigation of the globe by Admiral Lord George Anson. He'd originally taken six warships with him, but they just didn't have enough kit and through storms, bad seas, disease and lack of gear, he lost five of the ships (some returned home, others were wrecked) two thirds of his crew, and he failed to make much in the way of calculations and measurements.

What he did manage though, was some harassment of the Spanish (always a plus in those days) a messy but ultimately successful regroup in Macao and that old fallback, a spot of plundering, capturing a Manila Galleon that just happened to be carrying, among other splendid things, well over a million pieces of eight.

He became massively wealthy - and First Lord of the Admiralty - and the globes on the gates trace (or at least used to trace) the voyage he took. The copper inlay was all calculated by a Richard Oliver, mathematics master at the Academy of Greenwich, who was paid fifty guineas for his pains. One was a terrestrial sphere; the other a celestial, and they were originally very detailed. Sadly the weather's got to them and there's only a few bands remaining, but it's somehow fitting that Greenwich, which didn't have the meridian running through it at the time, has a giant pair of navigational globes at her centre.

On the pillars, btw, the carvings still just about depict lots of symbols of British naval might - the Hospital and Royal coats of arms, flags, cannons, helmets and sundry trophies - though I suspect pieces of eight aren't included in the tableau...

The little niches never had anything in them - we haven't lost any statues - and the gates aren't orginal. There appears to have been a mini scandal in 1858 when the gates, which, from reading the superb John Bold, were from Old Greenwich Palace, were sold at auction in 1858 for less than their scrap value, and quietly replaced with dull versions. I don't know if they're the same ones we have now.

I have Benedict to thank for the two good pictures on this post. Mine's the slightly grotty-sky pic. I know I have more, including ones taken from inside the gates, but Lord only knows where they are. Life is a bit muddled just now.

Faded Greenwich 7

Today's Faded Greenwich is fading before our very eyes. Lewis Coaches, who've been in Greenwich since 1919, have moved - albeit down the road to Charlton, though I'm suspecting that bumpy day trips in a coach, followed by a gut-retching hovercraft from Dover to Calais in back to get a few bottles of cheap plonk are not quite so high up on the agenda these days.

Nor are there regular coaches out to the country so that mums and dads can visit their evacuated children, as there used to be in WWII. Lewis were based out in Blackwall Lane in those days, but they've been in Denham St for about 30 years.

They started out exactly 90 years ago, when Charles Lewis came back from the Flying Squad after World War I and bought a lorry with some benches in the back. He stuck a chalk board on the side and organised different trips every weekend, and it grew from there. It was a Lewis coach that brought the triumphant Charlton team back with the FA cup in 1947. Sadly they've not had that honour since...

Anyone who lives in East Greenwich or who has had to battle their way to the shops on the peninsula recently, will remember the horrendous roadworks that have only just stopped. It seems to have been a mixture of gas works and a serious water-table problem - there was a pump slooshing out water on Woolwich Road for months. Denham Street was virtually impossible to get down.

This was, apparently, the final nail in the coffin of Lewis's here - they had to move temporarily - and it seems that Charlton's just easier (and probably cheaper to operate from now.) The buildings are up for sale.

I daresay they're hoping to flog it off at a hot price for yet more hutches luxury flats - though looking at the inside of the place it might make a good workshop for light industry or a car mechanics.

These pictures were not taken by me - my camera is still very broken indeed. It's the second Fuji that has died with exactly the same problem - a zoom that gets stuck half way in/out. Dazza, who lives round there and who took the pics for me, has also had a Fuji that died the same way. Fuji have offered to mend it for me - at ten pounds less than it would cost to replace it. So much for eco-dom. One thing's for certain - my next camera will NOT be a Fuji...



Sorry - got a bit off-top there. Happy weekend...

Rear Window (14)

I haven't done a Rear Window for ages, so I'm especially pleased to bring you Hither Queen's bedroom window view, in what, from memory, is in Frobisher Street in Maze Hill.

I love the idea that this has been part-pedestrianised, with little seats and tubs of plants - I'm guessing, though I don't actually know, that this must make the residents feel rather village-y and quaint. It's certainly not the rat-run that most streets in Greenwich tend to be - or at least not unless you count kiddies on skateboards...

At one end is Maze Hill, and above it, the 'monstrous' Seren Park, as Hither Queen calls it (though, hands up, I was expecting far worse, far uglier on that particular development. My only real gripe is that the footpath to the south of Maze Hill Station stays resolutely closed, and I begin to fear that it will now be for the exclusive use or residents, which is a real pain for people with prams or wheelchairs (or Phantoms, who are just lazy) who live on the south side but have to walk all the way round the north to get a few yards away to the south platform.)

At the other end is a charming view of one of the lesser-known Greenwich Almshouses, Hatcliffe.

I'm always interested in nosing through people's windows, seeing Greenwich as other Greenwichians do - I'd love to peer (in a non-creepy way, natch) through yours. Keep sending 'em in...

Bye, Bye, Syral

Not everyone is going to mourn the passing of Syral - the giant factory of doom better known as "what the hell's that awful pong?" on the Peninsuala. But as one of the last remaining heavy industries left around here, the refinery was the employer of many people - and has been churning out its repertoire of appalling odours for years now.

No more. The place has closed, and on the evidence of my passing by it a couple of times over the last few days (sorry - my camera's irretrievably broken so no pics, 'fraid) they're dismantling it with almost unseemly haste. The chaps in hi-viz jackets who are swarming over the place don't seem to be actually demolishing yet, but much preparation is being done.

As I went past on Sunday, they seemed to be playing a final rendition of their 'greatest hits' of dreadful smells, maybe they are cleaning out the silos or something.

I wonder what's going to happen to this oh, so marketable piece of real estate on the riverside. Will we keep the jetties that had so much cash spent doing them up for the millennium, with their historic bits and bobs, natural-plants habitats, fishing platforms and weepy willows?

Will we lose yet another piece of our Thames Path? (I'm beginning to forget what the bit outside Lovell's Wharf even looks like, it's been closed so long...) I would be most upset if we lost another bit of what is, after all, a right of way.

It's all happening very fast, though one of the chaps I was talking to told me that the giant silos won't be blown up until next February (a date for the diary for anyone who remembers the hospital chimney exploding about four years ago. Watch this space.)

I vaguely remember that under Ken, the riverfront round that part of the peninsula was to be kept for industrial use, but now I just don't know - I'm sure the developers are slathering just at the thought of it.

What I'd like to see is some light industry - small, interesting workshops, maybe maritime-related, moving in. What I have the creepiest suspicion we'll actually get is yet more luxury flats and a truly interesting, different, real part of the Thames Path will turn into more identical glass and steel blocks.

My camera breaking (it was the moment of trying to take a picture of the towers being scaffolded that did it - maybe I annoyed the god of industrial silos...) is a real bummer. Syral may not have been our favourite part of living in Greenwich, but it is part of our history. At the very least it needs recording.

May I suggest that anyone walking along the Thames Path over the next few months takes their camera with them and takes some snaps? It will change every day - we should have a record of what the area looks like now.

Then and Now (1) Point Hill 1906

As part of yet another new occasional series, Greenwich then and now, I thought I'd share this strange picture with you - the view from Point Hill in 1906.

I guess the thing that's most striking about it is that the angle is completely different to what we'd be looking at today. The only things I really recognise are St Alfege's tower and the domes of the Old Royal Naval College - neither of which are easily viewable from the Point today.

In fact this is the best I could do a few days ago, trying to get that same angle:

The trees have grown up along the north side, which does make the Point more sheltered, but also protects us from realising just what a promontary it is, jutting out from Blackheath, looking out over the whole of London.

It must have been quite a view. I find myself imagining Jack Cade, Wat Tyler and various Cornish rebels (who must have been a bit lost to have come this way round...) standing on this funny little bit of a hill and seeing the whole of London - and a fair amount of Essex - before them.

To try to get anywhere near the same view as the shot taken just over 100 years ago, I had to go down a level, and look out over the tops of the houses - not such a good angle, but at least halfway there.

One more thing about the 1906 picture - does anyone know what the Dutch-gabled building just below the ORNC is? I can't see it still exists.

Rear Window (13) - Wood Wharf

We haven't had a Rear Window post for ages where we get to see what fellow Greenwichians see out of their bedroom windows, but I reckon you'll be pretty green when you see what Kathy does every morning...

I've sort of seen this view - when I posed as someone 'interested in buying a second property' while Wood Wharf was being built. I'm not sure the estate agent totally bought my line - I probably should have worn something a bit more convincing than filthy overalls - but I did manage to have a good peek - and it was a marvellous view, especially from the penthouse on top...

But back to Kathy's window. When she wakes up in the morning, if she looks left, she sees, Deptford Reach and Canary Wharf, with London in the background:

If she looks right, Greenwich looms large:

Here's the daytime view of the Deptford/Canary Wharf vista:

And Island Gardens:

With all that water you wouldn't expect to see a parking lot too. But this is what she woke up to in May when HMS Invincible was moored outside her flat...

I'm always looking for Rear Window subjects. They don't have to be glamorous like Kathy's view. Whether your place looks out over the back of shops, a tyre-replacement workshop or next-door's dustbins, it's all part of what Greenwich is Now. And it's all interesting for a nosy Phantom...

Secret Mosaics

Okay - hands up who's noticed this before? I have no idea how many times I've passed the corner entrance to Borough Hall's wonderful observation tower and never even looked up at the little art deco gem nestled in the canopy roof.

It's so perfect for the building, one of the best examples of 1930s civic art about - a mosaic with Classical overtones that bring to mind Roman/Greek/Egyptian styles.

The twelve panels around the outside are, of course, the signs of the zodiac, but inside is where it really becomes 'Greenwich' - ships, stars - and a telescope.

On the wall, just below, is a plaque with the details of the building, including the architects, contractors and councillors - but not the artist who designed the ceiling...

Check it out next time you're passing, folks, but in the meanwhile, I leave you with this wonderfully dramatic shot from Benedict's collection, of the observation tower. Not that anyone actually gets to observe from it any more, but don't get me started on that one again...