Archaeology (1) How It SHOULD Be Done

I'm excited today, folks. I've just heard that the University of Greenwich is to begin a proper archaeological excavation of the Stockwell Street site. After so much heartache last year with the death of the village market, at last something good is happening - something that has been hotly anticipated ever since John Stone called for a dig in his seminal 1914 lecture to the Greenwich Antiquarian Society.

The university is currently waiting for the bizarrely-monikered Heneghan Peng architects to come up with a plan for the new building - which, if it isn't truly innovative, exciting and architecturally meritorious, will not only be an embarrassment to Greenwich but a really bad advert for the Architectural School, so I'm holding out great hope.

But before they do anything that means getting out the buckets and spades, they're going to be doing some pretty exhaustive surveys -geological, ecological, and the one that interests me, archaeological.

Obviously, the current buildings will have to go. Though to lose some of 'scruffy Greenwich' tugs at my heart strings - for me over-smartening the area will lose its character - we really can't save everything. Besides, I'm desperate to know what's underneath...

So bye-bye to those grungily-fab warehouses, seedily secretive stores and the uber-groovy Bee Gee garage. I didn't know that was its name - I just thought it was an Esso job - but there it is in the 1976 pic below, courtesy, as above (from 1937) of Greenwich Heritage Centre. I'm not entirely sure what the little arrows are for.) Can't you just see Barry tossing his layered, golden curls around the collar of his grease-spotted designer overalls before offering you a fill-up, whilst Maurice gives your big end a quick polish and Robin sells you a Magic Tree? Oooh-er, Missus. Sorry. Saturday Morning Fever seems to have struck at Phantom Towers...

They're not sure if the old petrol tanks are still underneath the forecourt of the seventies supergroup's day job, but if necessary, an expert team will carry out the clean up.

I'm told that "in order to preserve the streetscape for as long as possible, two large blocks on the frontage of Stockwell Street, John Humphries House and the disused storage unit at number 18-19, will remain standing for the time being." Now, I have to say that John Humphries House has never really been part of the streetscape that I've ever thought worth preserving. If it was up to me, I'd rather look at hoardings than that ghastly, merit-free structure. I mean - it's not as if we're not used to hoardings round here at the moment.

Before they can start the fun bit of digging holes comes the boring stuff, like rubbish-clearing buildings surveys, sorting out services such as water, gas and electricity and detailed studies of the area (take one guess as to why the Phantom didn't become an archaeologist...) They've already done much of the really tedious stuff, apparently, and are very nearly ready to start the exciting test pits to look at the archaeology of the site, which has been in use since at least the medieval period. They tell me

"Initial research indicates that building work over the centuries, and war-time bombs, have destroyed evidence from early periods, but the university will pay special attention to what remains of the 19th century maltings, which once supplied ale to the Spread Eagle Tavern."

Coo-er. I've been promised a copy of the initial appraisal of the project, which will include some idea of what they think they might find, with some records of previous digs and some historical maps (they asked if I "might be interested?" Derrr!) They're also going to be keeping us updated of anything they find - so watch this space.

Tomorrow, sadly, an example of archaeology just as exciting, but perhaps being less-responsibly dealt with...

Underground Greenwich (17) - Preserving (Or Not) The Conduits Of Greenwich Park

Dr Per Von Scheibner, of the splendid blog Subterranean Greenwich, has prepared a fascinating document as part of his objections to the current Olympics proposals.

Whether or not you're into the Olympics in the Park, it's really worth a read. It's full of history, insight and wonderful photos, as well as an impassioned plea not to even consider the euphemistic 'preservation by record'* of this medieval and Tudor warren of conduits, some of which are so beautiful they could have been made as passages the main Greenwich Palace - indeed it's one of the only bits of the old palace left. I mean - who would think about giving an underground water system Gothic arches these days?

I have worried about this from the very start, even before I knew the full extent and beauty of the passages (as much as anyone can - they have not been fully explored even now) and I am even more concerned that no one seems to be bothering to bring in archaeologists to excavate this vital part of royal history in anything but what seems like piecemeal fashion.

Of course to find the full extent of all the tunnels would create far too much damage to the park, but surely a team should be brought in to discover just how serious a danger the system would be to life and limb, and, vice-versa, how much danger the heavy vehicles needed to create the Olympic course would be to the tunnels.

By rights, any such team should be led by Dr Scheibner and his cohort-in-caving, Dominic Clinton, who, since the conduits have been closed to the public for longer than anyone alive can really remember, probably know most about them.

I don't get why this isn't a Number One priority, paid for by the Olympics as part of this legacy we keep being promised. The choice of discovering some really important, unique, medieval palace remains or a few bits of outdoor gym equipment in parks? Hmmm. Tough decision...

I mean this is (for the moment at least, until we mess it up just that little bit too much) A WORLD HERITAGE SITE. Why aren't LOCOG being forced by UNESCO to do the right-thing-by-heritage here?

In Phantom Fantasy Land, Royal Parks would be excavating, preserving and cleaning those passages easily found without serious further damage, so that sections could be opened to the public for a small fee - like the Catacombs in Paris or the Sottorranea in Naples. Not seriously discussing the possibility of 'preservation by record' as a viable way to treat a World Heritage Site.

Whatever your views on the Equestrian Events at Greenwich Park, I urge you to take a peek at Dr Scheibner's document. It makes compulsive reading for any lover of Greenwich.

*In case you haven't come across this term before, it means taking photos of, then destroying artifacts - a similar proposal was made for the Durnford Street buildings by Greenwich Hospital Trust with their plans for the redevelopment of the market, happily quashed (unanimously) by Greenwich Council, who found some balls at the eleventh hour.

Clarity

There's something about the snow that can really clarify things we usually forget exist. I walk past the old reservoir in Greenwich Park on a regular basis and pay it no real attention - and yet it's a big feature - if you look at the aerial view in the link above, it covers a large area. The bare trees and snow-covered mound really show it for how it is.

The guys at Subterranean Greenwich reckon it was opened briefly in the war for assessment as a possible air raid shelter, but I'm rather hoping they manage to persuade Royal Parks to let them go in there and see it themselves on behalf of the rest of us - I'd love to know what it's like in there now. I can't help feeling that it should be useful - maybe to be turned into something cool eventually too, like an art gallery or something.

I meant to get a pic of the Anglo Saxon burial mounds (which were badly damaged by the erection of the reservoir - until local people protested and what remained was preserved) but it started to snow again, and I'm not dedicated enough to trudge around looking for the best angle in this weather.

BTW, talking of local people protesting about potential damage to the park, there's a public meeting at 2.00 pm this Sunday (17th Jan), at John Roan School, held by NOGOE, to talk about the Olympic proposals. Expect a bunfight if anyone from LOCOG actually turns up...

Underground Greenwich (16) - Update

Folks - I don't normally revisit a subject quite so quickly but I've just been sent a couple of photographs by the very wonderful Julian Watson of a 1979 visit he and a hand-picked group of doughty experts made to the tunnels underneath Macartney House, which we were talking about a couple of days ago . I thought all you Underground Greenwich fans might like to see them...

The picture above was taken (Julian thinks by himself, since he was there but is not in the photos...) with Sir Robert Somerville (with the white hair, cap and moustache) and Ron Longhurst just about to raise the entrance slab. The one below is inside the tunnel itself. He admits that by learned opinion they suspected it would have just been a rather posh drain, but hey - a secret underground tunnel is a secret underground tunnel in my book...

The chap who lived there at the time, who let them poke about, asked them to keep the visit quiet as he didn't want to be pestered by potholers, which could of course be a sticking point today - after all - it is someone's house. I would concentrate asking-efforts on the park, myself - I suspect there's more to see - though I wouldn't hold out much hope they'll say yes. H&S regulations are scarier than in Edwardian times when anyone could wander in. I guess it's possible they might open up the old Conduit House for groups - but it's probably stuffed full of gardening equipment or deckchairs or something.

Julian thinks he gave the rest of the shots to the Heritage Centre, so if you want to see some more, it's probably worth an ask there.

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...

Alternative Domes (2)

The Reservoir, Greenwich Park

I keep forgetting that I acquired a whole bunch of aerial photos taken last year on the Zepplin rides. There are some amazing shots, I must use more of them...

I wasn't really sure whether to make this an Underground Greenwich entry - or an Alternative Dome, but looking at it from above, it just has to be the latter, even though it's as hidden and inpenetrable as any of Greenwich's other underground stuff. But serene, secret and secluded as it may be now, building this almost-unknown dome brought on one of Greenwich Park's first-ever environmental protests...

Greenwich Hospital had spent a lot of time and cash enlarging and improving the maze of underground conduits that weave their way through the Park, but they had their eye on making it even bigger - not least because as well as supplying Deptford Dockyard and the hospital itself, the surplus water could be flogged off to local residents.

That the spot they chose for an open reservoir in 1844 was home to a small colony of Anglo Saxon tumuli didn't bother the admirals in charge one jot, and they had already turfed-up several ancient burial mounds before a newly-politicised public got wind of it.

The very early Victorian age was beginning to realise the importance of conservation - almost contemporary to the destruction of this most ancient part of the park was raging another dispute, over the arrival of the railways. The fury over the Anglo-Saxon graves was both organised and angry. Greenwich's 19th-Century Swampy, one 'Simon Sensitive,' was appalled and made the campaign public, writing to the Pictorial Times.

The protesters got themselves a stay of execution - and they saved the burial mounds (albeit in a very damaged form.) But Simon Sensitive and his friends may have won the battle to save the burial mounds but they'd lost the war not to have a waterworks built in a Royal Park. It was constructed a year later, a few yards from the original site

According to the very-wonderful John Bold, it cost £3,069, and was designed by Sir William Thomas Denison, Superintendent at Portsmouth Dockyard, under the watchful eye of the Admiralty Works Department. And I guess it looked a lot worse then than it does now - probably a complete eyesore. The armed services are not known for aesthetics in design. The new tank held 1, 125,000 gallons of water, was partially dug-out, partially built-up and measured 160 feet across its base. "The crowning outrage is now being effected," Simon Sensitive wrote. "I am ashamed, I am grieved, I am indescribably distressed..."

The frustrating thing is, that after all that fuss it only lasted 26 years. The hospital closed in 1871. Kent Waterworks covered the reservoir with a turf roof, and screened it with bushes. I don't know whether it was drained at the same time or later, but it's empty now.


I like to think that Simon Sensitive would be calmed by what the reservoir looks like now - almost impossible to see except from the air. But I do find myself thinking about that space from time to time. I can't decide whether it needs to remain as it is, or whether this giant, low-ceilinged, brick-pillared empty space could be used imaginatively.

Probably a bit low for a performance space (the pillars are 8ft high) unless it was re-opened as an open-air theatre, but perhaps an art gallery? Aquarium? Museum? Funky restaurant? Or perhaps re-opened as a nature reserve?


What do you think? Has enough damage been done, and should we let sleeping dogs lie - or could this be a really interesting, useful space, out of sight of most park users these days and full of possiblities?

Underground Greenwich (13) Not A Hobbit Hole

Oh, that I had permission to reproduce a photo from John Bold's fabulous Greenwich. Instead, all I can do is point you to Page 19 if you have it already or get you to sneak into Waterstones and have a peeky at the display copy Jayson has hopefully put out for your delight and delectation. It may even persuade you to buy it. What a book...

For the moment, though, you'll have to live with my description of Figure 28. It is an undated photograph of the above, before it was emasculated, bricked up and turned into what looks like somewhere Bilbo Baggins would live.

In the (probably Victorian or Edwardian) picture, the conduit head, for that's what it is, is open, spilling out into a charming little pond. Ivy cascades down the brick walls and a precarious-looking tree perches on top of the waterhead. Even at the time of this photograph the inscription over the doorway is illegible.

It looks as though, if you were prepared to get your galoshes wet, you could walk straight through the pond and into the tunnels - and that's exactly what our friend John Stone did in the early 20th Century. He says "The way lies right and left inside the doorway," but doesn't bother elaborating because, as I've mentioned before, it seems as though rambling through the tunnels of Greenwich Park was a regular activity for locals at the time.

Sadly it would seem the Health & Safety brigade got to this charming little pond and drained it, before bricking-up the passage entrance forever. Why they couldn't have just put a little ornamental fence around it and a nice iron grille over the door if they didn't want kiddies to drown and teenagers to get lost in the tunnels is beyond me.

(Underground Greenwich 14) The Conduit Head

I always meant to return to this peculiar brick conduit head at the corner of West Grove and Hyde Vale, but looking through the archives (and they're so bloomin' rambling even I get lost in 'em these days) I don't seem to have done so, and since we've been talking about the Green Man recently and this wasn't a million miles from the pub, it feels right to do it now.


The conduit head's a weird shape - it's only recently I realised it's not a complete brick dome; more like a brick dome with a slice cut down it. On the 'sliced' side, next to the rather splendid display of pampas grass someone in the flats has planted, there's an opening with a heavy iron grille over the top. If you peer down, past the pile of accumulated dead leaves, there's a big hole, which presumably eventually goes down to the famous tunnels that meander down Hyde Vale, Crooms Hill and the park, bringing a water supply to the various buildings that have been at the waterside over the centuries.

Turning to my ever-faithful John Stone, it is described as having been built at the end of Chocolate Row ('West Grove' today - bear with me for now - we'll get to the chocolate bit another day, okay?) near what was then the horse pond sometime around 1696. The National Monuments Record is more circumspect, giving the date around 1710.

John Stone reckons Christopher Wren "had the doing of it," using the argument that it's beautifully done, possibly using Tudor bricks (nicked from the old palace, I suspect) but then there were quite a lot of people doing beautiful work around that time. It could have been done by any one of several brilliant engineers knocking around Greenwich - where, of course, everything cutting-edge was happening.

Stone also reckons that Hyde Vale was the where the headquarters of the Master of the Water Supply lived, and he mentions a six-foot walkway between Hyde Vale and the Park that I can't immediately think of just now. Maybe I'm dim, or maybe he actually means the underground passage itself. Or it could just have been built over. The guy was writing nearly 100 years ago now...

He did take full advantage of a builder's accident though. In 1906, when some of the houses a little way down the hill were being built, the builders broke into an old tunnel. Our John blagged his way into them and explored as much as he could. Sadly it wasn't very much, and he concluded that that particular tunnel was just an overflow.

Stone is infuriating at times, though. He says things like "I will not weary you by describing the other tunnels," mainly (and understandably, I guess) because in the early 1900s roaming around in the passages was one of a myriad ways of entertaining oneself of a Sunday afternoon and his audience would already know them. But for us, a century on, when not one of those tunnels is viewable, John Stone's account is pretty much all we have. It drives me insane. I want him to tell me more. More, I say.

I'll give you more of all I've got about Underground Greenwich another day. But for now, that's about all that's fit to print on the Hyde Vale Conduit. Sorry, guys...

Underground Greenwich (13) Greenwich Park's Lost Steps (1) Tiny

I've been back delving into my precious copy of John Stone's Underground Passages, Caverns Etc. Of Greenwich & Blackheath and have come up with a very strange thing that I never noticed before.

Apparently, in one of the dips to the east of the park, just north of the Roman Villa, are some buried steps. They lead down into the system of conduits and tunnels that burrow throughout Greenwich Park. That particular set of passages seems to go from around the Roman Villa to around Queen Elizabeth's Oak, though it's very unlikely that it's anything to do with the Romans.

It could be medieval; redeveloped and improved around the time Greenwich Hospital was being built. There is, according to Mr Stone, who seems to know it well, also a long passage that leads down to the ORNC, as well as several others ranging across the park.

But here's an interesting thing. Stone says that although the passages are described as "ancient" in 1780, none of the bricks he'd seen in the early 20th century appeared to be any older than the hospital.

To call something that's only about 70 years old 'ancient' seems like pushing it a bit. He suggests therefore that there may be others that, even in the 18th Century had already been bricked up and abandoned. So. Even if there is a map of the tunnels built for the Hospital somewhere, it is entirely possible that there is a network of even older, medieval tunnels that go all over the place no one knows about.

If this is so, it may well be worth doing a bit of proper Geo-Fizz to work out where these tunnels are before allowing a load of horses to thunder around on top of them and maybe fall into one, don't you think...

Underground Greenwich (11)

Thought it was about time I visited another Underground Greenwich - albeit today in Greenwich borough, rather than actually in the town. So shoot me.

February 1878 was an exciting time for Mr Thomas Jackson. He lived at the Shooters Hill end of Eltham, and had quite an estate from what I can tell. Engineers, trying to find why out the local waterworks kept losing large amounts of water, discovered a 140 foot shaft 300 yards from his house.

It was about four feet in diameter and someone had obviously thought it was worth spending time and cash on it, as it was brick lined - right down to 75 feet. And the bricks were thick - nine inches at the top; fourteen at the bottom.

Below that, for another 40 feet, thick chalk blocks lined the walls before finally coming out at an unlined bit at the bottom where lay a huge chamber - 63ft by 40ft and over nine feet high, with chalk columns carved out to prevent the roof falling in - there was flint immediately above that.

The only reference I can find to this is Hasted - and he only writes about it in a footnote. He has no idea how old the shaft is, though the brickwork is much later than the tunnel itself - at some point it had been used as a cesspool (ick...) Chalk workings (often called 'Dene Holes' - there are all sorts of stories as to how they got there...) go back to Roman times - Pliny used British chalk to clean his silver - but it's probably more likely this one was medieval.

What they used to do was dig down, putting footholes in at intervals so that you could descend by putting your foot in one gap, then straddle the shaft, feeling around for the next hole with the other foot. For 140 feet. Does anyone else feel queasy? At the bottom, they dug out the chalk and sent it up in buckets.

No one had known this one was there - and, since I can't seem to find any specific modern reference to it, (save articles that were clearly using Hasted as a reference too) it seems to have been forgotten now.

One document I did find though, seems to imply that it may have been built over now - that in the 1920s and 30s authorities "had few scruples when allowing housing estate to be built over land known to contain a honeycomb of caves." Eltham isn't specifically mentioned - but there is a lot of 20s/30s housing in the area.

Just think - someone could be sitting on the biggest potential wine cellar/ games den/ screening room in Eltham. Of course they probably just assume they've been cursed with the biggest subsidence in Eltham...

ORNC Pumps

On reflection, perhaps not the wisest of titles for a post - it reads suspiciously like something I might find peddled in the contents of my spam folder, alongside tempting offers to make 'your member so much greater than civil,' to gain the 'university degre you deserve' or 'bulk-buy meds', presumably for my greater-than-civil member...

I'm sure that spam mongers would find these pumps more prosaic than Prosac but at least they wouldn't make anyone's eyes water.

It was Stephen from Ladywell (sorry Stephen - mistook you for another Greenwich Photographer there...) who reminded me about them. Quietly dotted around courtyard corners in the Old Royal Naval college, I have no idea if these old water pumps would actually still come up with anything other than dead spiders, but Stephen tells me that this one's arm still moves. Here it is in context, in the courtyard of King Charles Block:

He says that he must have passed it a million times and never noticed it - which I guess is what we all do to some extent with street furniture - it's so familiar it's invisible. Exactly the same thing moment of surprise happened to me when I noticed this elegant stone pump in the courtyard of the Queen Anne building:




They look so tucked-away that it's hard to bear in mind that they would have formed the main focal point of the courtyard - this is where the pensioners would have had to collect ice-cold water for washing, cleaning and, if they were brave, drinking (though from what I've been reading about the ale, which people traditionally drank in preference to water as it was less likely to be contaminated, in the single case of Greenwich Hospital, the old boys would have been better off with the water, however green...)


And of course, these pumps would have been the business-end of all those underground pipes, tunnels and wells snaking their way down Hyde Vale, Crooms Hill, Greenwich Park and from the Stockwell - the place where it all finally surfaced. So in a way this should perhaps be part of my Underground Greenwich series...


Perhaps in 200 years, people will start looking at modern push-fit water pipes and nasty brown plastic outdoor plumbing as quaint and rather lovely. "Ooh look at the stink-pipe on that." Actually, scratch that. I already know someone who says things like that. But however superseded and outmoded these particular water works are, at least we're not going to lose them. A sign (which looks almost as old as the pumps themselves) clearly tells us they're:

Phew.

Underground Greenwich (10) Back Garden Fun

Geoff, who lives at the park end of King William Walk, has an intriguing question. He says:

"Apparently, there's a well is in my garden. A former resident of thirty years ago told me he was digging in the area outside the back door when he fell down it. He only went down about six foot as it was filled in 110 years ago when they built the properties. He informed me that the foundation of the back wall of the property is sitting on the edge of the well.

Could it be a shaggy dog story? I have no plans to dig up the back garden to find out, but I thought you might be interested."

The Phantom is very interested indeed. It's very unlikely the guy's pulling your leg, Geoff - though of course he could be exaggerating as people who can't be proved wrong enjoy doing ;-) It's a fascinating - and topical thing to talk about, given the whole chucking-out of the market folk to build the Stockwell St. development.

We have discussed the Stock Well before - how it dates back to at least Duke Humphrey's time - he got himself a license to run a conduit (that's 'secret tunnel' to you and me - there are loads of 'em in Greenwich, especially around Crooms Hill and the Park. They were only for water, of course, but the romantic possibilities for a giddy Phantom are endless...) to his gaff which was more or less where the ORNC is now.

I'm not going to reiterate here what I wrote a year or so ago (click on the "Stock Well" link above to get the original piece) - suffice to say that at the time of writing the pamphlet from which I got the information - just shy of 100 years old now, the exact location of the well was unknown. I think, given the fact that you're at King William Walk and the Stock Well (it's thought) was around the corner of what's now Nevada Street and Stockwell Street, that it's unlikely that yours is the actual well (though since no one really knows, it could be) - but it may be a very old subsidiary one that came from the main supply.

I know you have no intentions of digging up your garden but I have to say that if it were the Phantom Back Garden, unless it was a display of positively Wisley-worthy immaculateness, I'd be sorely tempted to call in Time Team pronto.

At worst it would be a curiosity, at best it would be the original well - full, if John Stone's speculation is to be believed, of "archaeological treasures reposing at the bottom of the well, dropped down from the earliest days of Greenwich in the daily and hourly user of the inhabitants through many centuries..." Blimey.

Whether or not Geoff's is the missing well, I truly hope that the archaeologists will be called into the Stockwell Street development at a very early stage. It is one of the longest-inhabited areas of Greenwich - and this could be the only opportunity to investigate its history before it's lost or damaged for ever.

Underground Greenwich (9) The Conduit House

Amazingly, for a building supposedly built by one of our great architects, there's very little to be found out about the Conduit House in Greenwich Park (sometimes called the Standard Reservoir), or that I can find, anyway. I took this pic before the place was suddenly transformed into Santa's Grotto on Monday, but normally this is a good time of year to see the building as the trees around it are bare and you can cop as good a look as you'll ever get until they start opening it to the public (not likely in the near future, I suspect...)

It was built in the early 18th Century - probably around 1710, and was just one of several conduit heads that were built to channel water to the new Hospital - the tunnels and chambers are all underground. It's a fairly workaday building for Hawksmoor, who was Deputy Surveyor at the time. So workaday that it's not mentioned at all in the only book I have about the guy - the Thames & Hudson classic by Kerry Downes. And it's only 'supposed' to have been actually designed by Hawksmoor.

I reckon it must have been, though. Take this picture of the Carrmire Gate at Castle Howard, definitely built by Hawksmoor a few years later. Take away the wall and the ornamental pyramids, put a house behind it - and voila - almost the same design. Where the cars go at Castle Howard, the front door is at Greenwich. But the capital, the arch, and the simple decoration are the same. Hawksmoor used the same themes again and again.

Inside, apparently, there's a big room, underneath which the business went on - a big old reservoir that sent out tunnels full of water to the hospital. I remember one reader telling me that it was used by the authorities during WWII as an air raid shelter, though unless the reservoir itself had been drained and they sheltered down in the actual tanks I can't see that the building would have been any safer than anywhere else in Greenwich.

I have no idea what's in there now. I have never seen the door open.

I include the dull-looking picture below for the other little constructions that are just about visible in it. I'm guessing they mark air holes for the tunnels that wriggle through Greenwich Park like worms. Or these little brick-built tower-y things must have something to do with the secretive Victorian reservoir a little further up the hill. But that's for another day...

The Dark Hole of Doom

Richard asks:

"I was wandering down to Wickes along Blackheath Road yesterday to buy a new paintbrush when I happened to notice a large hole (maybe a couple of metres square) in the pavement. It's right on the corner of the cross roads, where Blackheath Rd meets Lewisham Rd. Being a nosy sort, I peered in as far as I could (it was surrounded by a safety fence and already full of obligatory random rubbish like beer bottles and shoes - grrrrr).

Interestingly, there seemed to be a brick passage that ran off from the hole, in the direction of Lewisham.

Any idea what this may be and how far it runs? How did the hole come to be exposed anyway?"

The Phantom replies:

I haven't seen this. Are you sure it's not part of the seemingly-everlasting programme of water mains replacement? Though I confess a brick-lined passage says 'sewer' to me. In Victorian times, even the humblest of sewers were rather beautifully executed, which makes them look like secret tunnels rather than back passages...

If it's not either of those, then I have no clue. Has anyone else seen this hole - or does anyone know what it is?

Underground Walks

Auntie Mabel, who admits she hasn't read the site for some time (It's ok, Auntie -it's not a crime - yet...TGP) has been wondering about the Underground Greenwich walks that went on a couple of times last year. She says:

"The last Greenwich Underground Walk appears to have been in May 2008. I wonder if the tours proved popular. Do you know if there are any plans for these walks in 2009 (when the weather warms up)? I was aware of the existence of old railway tunnels belonging to the extinct railway under the top end of Royal Hill, the Fire Station and Blackheath Road from old maps, but would like to know more. The topics covered sound very interesting."

The Phantom replies:

The walks continued for a little longer than that, Auntie, but sadly I suspect we won't be seeing any more Underground Greenwich walks for a while. Annoyingly, I've lost the guy's email, but he told me he was having trouble getting it off the ground (so to speak.) He's not a registered tour guide, and because of that the Tourist Information Centre wouldn't publicise it. I guess it's something to do with quality control or maybe they're just protecting their patch. Who knows. I suppose he could go on a tour guide's course, but he told me that he was spending his time writing a book instead. I wish him luck.

In the meanwhile I leave you with a funky Stevie pic of Greenwich's most obvious underground passage. Somehow it looks just like a Dr Who set...

K.U.R.G

Sounds like one of those secret organisations from 1960s spy movies, doesn't it. And if you give the acronym its proper title, it doesn't sound much better - the Kent Underground Research Group.

These intrepid explorers are Kent's own cross between Indiana Jones and the SAS. Dedicated to investigating holes in the ground, whatever they may be, they spend their weekends potholing, digging and generally poking around holes, caves and tunnels, ancient and modern.

But hey - these are the good guys. They don't just winch themselves down the first cavern they find and blast through sundry ancient anti-personnel devices - Native Indian blowpipes - hidden knives triggered by a misplaced foot - trapdoors disguised by unidentifiable slime. They don't grab the treasure and make a run for it, chased by inexplicable giant stone balls, glamorous though that sounds. As far as I can see from the pics, I can't even tell that they wear felt fedoras or carry whips. Chiz.

They patch together a history of the place - talking to elderly folk who may remember something from their childhoods, consulting records and old maps or charts, folklore - whatever - then bring in the big boys. Trained underground investigators and potholers - not to mention experts who know about things like winches and pumps.

Every so often they get an SOS from someone who has a mysterious hole in their garden - or has heard that there might be something there, and they investigate everything from its origin and use to its wildlife. They have explored chalk mines, dene-holes, natural caves, secret passages, grottoes - you name it.

And don't think that every county has one of these crack-teams. Oh, no - they get called out all over the place - Sussex, Berkshire - and, of course, Greenwich. You can read about the little they know of Greenwich in their book Kent and East Sussex Underground - though don't expect huge volumes of info on our particular area - frankly I think they need to come and do much more research at The Point and in the conduits in the Park, hint, hint...

I can think of a lot less exciting hobbies to have - and if you're reading this and licking your lips at the glamour and adventure of it all, you could join them - find their website here.

Don't forget - these are Guys of Action: "The Group is willing, at short notice, to visit sites where they can advise on the origin and extent of an underground feature. "

Altogether now...

If there's something strange
'Neath your neighbourhood
Who you gonna call?
Kent Underground Research Group...

That's enough dodgy 80s movies analogies - Ed...

Underground Greenwich (8) The Snow Well

Cathy asked (an embarrassingly long time ago):

"I recently read a plaque fixed to the old ice house at Holkham Hall in Norfolk which said that one of the earliest such structures in England was the 'snow conserver' built for James I At Greenwich. Any ideas on where it was and what happened to it?"

The Phantom has been pondering on this. It's clearly an early Ice House - which was the ultimate expression of wealth and sophistication in the 17th Century - a way to cool a drink, or create a fabulous dessert out of season to amazeone's guests.

Thing is, I can't find that there was ever one at Greenwich built by James. The first Ice house was introduced in 1660 by King Charles - but in St James' Park - I wonder if some Chinese-whispers have been going on here? Charles enjoyed the first ice cream in 1662, or so the Internet, which is never wrong, tells me. It doesn't tell me where, but I haven't heard of an ice house built in the grounds of the Queen's House.

However, I have also been thinking about a section in A.D. Webster, which does take this back to Greenwich:

"...on the west of The Obeservatory (was called) "Snow Hill" from the Snow Well there."

Apparently this is yet another part of Greenwich's underground heritage (Olympic organisers, take note...) - an old well in an ancient artificial hollow, between Crooms Hill and the Observatory. It's about 26 ft deep (how big is that in 'hands'? Think how many horses you could get in that hole) - the bottom part is lines with 16th Century bricks; higher up they're more recent.

About 4ft from the bottom, a little passage leads off towards St Mary's Gate (that's the main Greenwich entrance.) It's about 4 1/2 feet high and 30 inches wide (a tight fit indeed) but Webster doesn't say how long it is. I assume it's another conduit so it goes some way - perhaps towards the old Stock Well?

I don't think any of this well is visible any more, but the ancient hollow had another use - there used to be a whipping post there for naughty sailors "in frequent use to a late period."

As to how old the hollow is, Webster seems to think that from the name, it could be Roman. Who can tell...

Anyone got any more on this enigma?

Underground Greenwich (7) Charlton House

I've been reading my Stone again and am delighted to say that underground tunnels seem to be everywhere round here, not just Greenwich and Blackheath.

Not that this one is particularly exciting - given the ancientness and grandness of Charlton House, I would have hoped for something better - but hey - an underground tunnel is an underground tunnel - and who knows - there may be more exciting ones yet to be discovered.

This one, apparently, runs from the house, under Inigo Jones's arch, across the road and out towards the flats. It's about five feet high, and is 'oval.' John Stone actually went down it about 100 years ago - he reckons it runs "about 100 yards."

Although it's pretty big - and certainly could be used for clandestine rendezvous, the locking up of innocent maidens, smugglers' loot and the hiding of nobles in the civil war, etc, the truth, sadly, is much more prosaic - it was just a conduit, taking the water away from Charlton House down the hill. Apparently it still has the house drain in it.

I don't think it's get-in-able any more and I can't find any other reference to it. A shame, really. Maybe one of the Friends of Charlton House can furnish me with some more info...

Underground Greenwich (7) - An 18th Century Spat

Right folks. Today, I am going to whisk you back to the Age of Elegance. To the days when gentlemen wear periwigs, breeches and velvet frock coats, ladies titter behind their fans and the harpsichord rocks.

But underneath all that face paint, pox-patch and wig-powder, all is not well within Greenwich's upper echelons. Or maybe I should say 'lower...'

Much lower. Because once again Blackheath Cavern is causing a furore.

It is, as always, all down to cash - the usual playground arguments over who gets to mine the (frankly sub-standard - Sir Christopher Wren won't touch the stuff) chalk from the cave. For even if Sir Chris is being fussy, there are plenty of developers who aren't - London's still being rebuilt after the Great Fire and there's always going to be someone who doesn't mind buying cheap chalk.

The Steers family is mining that chalk - and has been for years. Bill Steers and his old mum are fined regularly for undermining the King's Highway or failing to support their extensive tunnels but they are mere pawns. There are bigger hitters in the chalk game and they are soon to come to blows...

Firstly, there's The Crown - Lord of the Manor of East Greenwich - who, despite there not actually having been a monarch-in-residence for, ahem, some years, still owns much of the town and claims that the chalk being dug out of Maidenstone Hill is effectively waste from Royal land.

Limbering-up for a good ol' punch-up, though, are the new (ish) boys on the block, the Trustees of Morden College, Lords of the Manor of "Old Court." The Trust has also busily bought-up land around Greenwich and is playing the "good causes" card. They, of course, argue that the lime is waste from their land, their having gained dispensation from "the Queen" (Which Queen? Don't ask me...)

The Crown points out that Old Court isn't actually a manor at all - and as such it can have no waste. By the mid 18th century, they're getting nowhere and it all gets handed over to The Lawyers.

Now, there's nothing particularly unusual about a lands-right fracas, but what amuses me, as I read John Stone's 1914 lecture notes, is the surreal direction the whole argument then takes.

Let's get in The Tardis (bagsy not be Donna...) and set the dial to - oh, I don't know - about 1750.

Scribbling furiously at his Chippendale desk, lit by a single tallow candle, sits Mr Brand, Treasurer and Principle Agent of Morden College. (I wonder if, in years to come, Brand Street will be named for him in thanks for Pedantry Beyond The Call Of Duty?) His quill is a blur of feather and ink as he scratches a letter to his opposite number. He talks about the Steers family's discovery and exploitation of the mines - implying that they are working for Morden College. So far, so good.

But then he takes an interesting tangent. He goes on to talk about the workings from the point of view of people from the future. He says:

"...an accidental discovery of them two or three centuries hence, when the occasion of them is forgot may supply curious matter of speculation for the antiquarians."

Ok - so it's a bit oblique, but frankly, that sentence is just a phrase - it means nothing. If I had been Mr Roberts, the Crown's Chief Steward, reading that missive over a morning cuppa in the local Coffee House, a copy of Lloyd's List beckoning and half a dozen coddled quails' eggs going cold in the dish, I wouldn't have thought anything of it.

But no. He takes great exception to it - clearly realising Mr Brand is implying future generations will think Morden College morally superior to The Crown. So he too grabs his quill and gets straight to the point:

"In 1699 you encroached on another part of it and therewith granted, as you say, the very entrails of the hill, the loam, gravel, chalk and sand, which was dug in subterranean caverns under the very summit of it, the discovery whereof, as you very prettily observe, if accidentally made two or three centuries hence, would supply curious matter of speculation for the antiquarians."

These guys are arguing over what WE will think of them. Not who's in the right in their own time, but what Posterity will say. Am I reading too much into this or is that just weird? Mr Roberts is truly riled over the issue. He continues:

"However this ingenious letter, if it should happen to outlive the common fate of things of this sort, will set those inquisitions into antiquity to right."

He neatly brings his argument back on course:

" The misfortune of it will be that if this letter and certificate live to rectify the antiquarians of future times, which it is very likely with this dispute between the Crown and the Trustees it may do, it will show that Mr Brand had too little regard to antiquity, who in looking into the title his clients had to this hill and to the subterranean caverns under it, looked only into the two Queen's grants and their own, without going so far back into antiquity as the grants to Eldred and Whitmore etc."

So. We're back to history again. Their history - that will tell them who has owned the land before them. Something concrete over which they can argue.

But what I love about this little flurry is that it shows something I haven't seen up until that correspondence - an awareness or, indeed, interest in what is to come.

Most writings I have ever seen about - well - pretty much anything before this, are concerned only with the day. With people's own times. They are too busy living their lives to have any interest in things other than their immediate future. But these letters deal with something more - the idea of what will happen two or three hundred years ahead of them.

The way I see it is that this is more than an argument over land - to me, it's a sign that concepts of The Enlightenment were beginning to pervade Society at all levels - even to prosaic areas such as land rights. With the coming of things such as travel (for the wealthy, obviously) The Grand Tour and questions about religion, philosophy and scientific experimentation; with discoveries of everything from Pompeii to sundry diggings in Greenwich Park, has come the birth of Antiquarianism, and with that an awareness of one's own place in history. These men are not content to have the matter dealt with for their own time. For them it's important to be seen by Posterity as having been morally in the right.

Ooops - sorry. I seem to have had a bit of a Melvyn Bragg moment there. Better go and have a sit down and a nice cup of that marvellous new invention, chocolate...

Underground Greenwich (6) Diamond Terrace's Mines.

Ok, put that shovel away. Not diamond mines, I'm afraid (unless you're counting the houses themselves...) But highly interesting all the same.

Strange, isn't it. I've been trying to track down information about this for months - ever since I heard about a council worker who used to go potholing in his lunch hours in the 1960s. I tried to find him, with no success. I even tried to find the results of his excursions at the London Spelaeological Society's archives. Then, there I was looking for something completely different, when what should I find but the report of 'another' excavation I hadn't even heard of. It would seem I'd been digging in the wrong place all the time. Harry Pearman was enjoying his energetic lunch hours twenty-odd years later...

But back to the tunnel.

It's a sand mine. Now - I know that sounds a bit mad, since sand can be so easily dug out from overground sites, but apparently Greenwich's geography means that the strata over the Thanet Sand in this particular area is too thick to bash out from the top so they tunnelled underneath instead. Of course that means that the rock above could be used as a roof - no need for props. It also meant that once the entrance was lost, it was gone for good.

It was in 1905 that Greenwich Borough Council thought it might be a good idea to know where all the tunnels, caverns and holes are - if only so that they could make sure roads didn't get built over them and accidents ensue. They discovered a whole network of tunnels under Nightingale Lane (now Westgrove Lane) "complicated and lofty, cut into hard sand and extending over a considerable area," and recommended a survey in case of tunnels collapsing causing bits to be cut off and lost, only to be rediscovered if someone fell through into them (let's not even mention 2002 and the A2 at this point...)

By the time John Stone's lecture came out in 1914, it looks as though these tunnels could be wandered around, but even he admitted he didn't know the extent of them. As time passed, and more building took place over the area, the tunnels gradually became lost.

Fast-forward to 1985, when Kent Underground Research Group got permission from a property owner in Diamond Terrace to do a little excavation. The opening is a brick arch, followed by a set of brick stairs to a slope - where wooden steps once took the original miners down. The surveyors couldn't get very far - at least two major rock falls meant that the extensive 400ft tunnels that folklore describes are either exaggerations or lost forever. But what remains is still very exciting.

There are three galleries, connected by two cross-passages. They were hastily repaired during World War II for use as air raid shelters - the sand-bags are still down there, as is quite a lot of graffiti. The London Archaeologist (Summer 1987) doesn't mention what the writing says - but after Badger suggested I searched the Greenwich Industrial History Society's splendid website I can tell you it includes 'portraits' of Mussolini and Shirley Temple. The mind boggles as to what they must be doing...

The passage joining the two galleries is much rougher than the reset - it looks as though it might have been cut out after it stopped being a mine so that the owner could have a lovely grotto. If my garden history is correct, I'd make that around the rococo period - 18th Century.

Which begs the question 'When was this originally dug and what the hell did they want all that sand for?'

The problem with trying to date sand is that it's so soft - tool marks disappear and there's no original human evidence left. There is a beautifully-cut inscription of '1671' with 'a carved floral design,' but since even the WWII graffiti is beginning to melt away it's unlikely to be authentic.

On the other hand, the Greenwich glass industry (about which I know nothing - but believe me, I'm going to find out - watch this space...) was in full swing by that date. The report I'm reading can't seem to decide whether the glass was excellent quality or cheap rubbish - apparently Greenwich glass itself was pretty special, but the Thanet sand in this mine was poor. Perhaps it was used to make cheapo bottles as a sideline. GIHS suggest it could have been used for cleaning.

The report ends with a thrilling thought. That from the evidence found in the 1980s, this mine cannot be the one described in the 1905 description. The last lines make my phantasmagorical heart flutter. "This suggests that there is another, more extensive, mine somewhere in the vicinity. Research in the area is continuing."

According to GIHS website, the owner is very keen to keep the tunnel useable and holds cocktail parties there. Invites should be addressed to thegreenwichphantom@gmail.com...

BTW if you live in the area, don't panic. The thickness and stability of the rock here means it's highly unlikely you'll fall through into the mines while you're watching TV...

PS. See Parish News for details of another Underground Greenwich walk.

Five Go Adventuring in Westcombe Park

"What rotten luck," said Julian. " The whole of the holidays ahead of us, and instead of going to the seaside with Mother, we're stuck in some creepy old castle with secret passageways and corridors and rumours of a ghost while Uncle Quentin does some awfully important research for the government which involves Science and sinister-looking men arriving at strange times of night."

"We'll never have an adventure here," sighed George.

"Woof," agreed Timmy the dog.

"Come on chaps," Dick ejaculated. "We've fallen on our feet here. I bet there are some great trees to climb in Greenwich Park. Let's see if Cook can rustle up a picnic."

The children trooped down to the castle kitchens. As they approached, they heard voices.

"Shh," warned Julian. The children stood quietly listening outside the scullery. Even Timmy seemed to realise that now was not the time to go bounding in.

"Well. Oi ain't stayin' an' that's no mistake," said a high-pitched working-class voice.

"Golly. That's Mrs Mopp, the cleaner, isn't it," whispered Dick.

"Well, you ain't the first," Cook's voice joined in. "Tibbs the gardener left last week, without so much as an if-you-please. Too many knockin's and bangin's of a night time, that's what he said."

"It's the ghost, that's what I say. The place is haunted. I'm handin' in me notice - you see if I don't."

"Haunted!" breathed the children, looking at one another.

The back door closed and they heard Cook go back to her work.

"Crikey. What was all that about?" Julian whispered.

"I don't like ghosts," said Anne in a small voice.

"Oh don't be such a baby," said George.

"Leave it to me," said Dick. "Come on, chaps. I'll find out. I'm good at flattering the servants." The children wandered nonchalently into the kitchen.

"I say, Cook," said Dick. "I don't suppose you have any of your scrummy seed cake, do you. We thought we'd go on a nice picnic in the Park. And you make such magnificent cake-"

"Well don't forget your Uncle Quentin said for you to be back for supper."

"And is that some of your marvellous ginger pop I can see brewing over there? Gosh that looks good..."

"Oooh, Master Dick," chuckled Cook. "You are a one. You'll be the death of me."

"This must be a very old house, Cook," Dick continued innocently. The others nudged each other. "Full of history. Must be quite a few interesting old cubby-holes. What about that cellar over there? Where does that lead to? I bet it goes over to the house next door."

"Now don't you go anywhere near that door." Cook suddenly looked fierce. "Mrs Gowdie the housekeeper told me that you wasn't to go poking around this place. It ain't safe for children."

"Maybe its... haunted?" asked Dick, putting on his sweetest face.

"Go on. Off you go. And mind you're back home early."

The children had a marvellous time that afternoon. They went for a ramble in the park, they climbed the chestnut trees and fed the deer, Timmy bouncing along beside them all the time. Cook had done them proud. There was even a juicy bone for Timmy. Afterwards, they drank so much ginger pop that George thought she would burst. They all lay on the grass in the setting sun.

"Cripes!" Julian leapt to his feet. "Supper!"

They tore back to Vanbrugh Castle, but it was too late. Uncle Quentin had gone off to his laboratory in one of his famous rages leaving word that they were to go straight to bed without supper.

"Don't worry," whispered Julian, as they trudged upstairs. We'll wait until ten o'clock then go exploring. Mrs Gowdie always listens to Housekeepers' Favourite Melodies on the Home Service at ten and she's deaf as a post so it will be very loud indeed. And Uncle Quentin will be busy in his laboratory."

"But the kitchen door's locked," said George.

"We can go in through that secret passage in the girls' room we discovered last hols. Now Dick, make sure you bring that flashlight you got from Mother on your birthday last month. George. You bring your pen knife. Now, don't look so scared Anne. We'll be together."

"I am a little scared," Anne admitted. "I'm just a girl. But I won't be scared if I've got two boys with me."

"Huh. Three," said George.

The children went to bed without a fuss, much to Mrs Gowdie's surprise. She was even more astonished a little later to see them all fast asleep in their beds. Of course they were only pretending, and as bell of Christ Church struck 10.00 o'clock they were wide awake.

Julian pressed the nose of a particularly ugly gargoyle in the carved fireplace. With a grating noise, one of the wooden panels slid slowly away, revealing a dark hole. The children climbed through and started to creep along the corridor, Timmy's excited panting the only sound. He was very pleased to be part of the adventure.

"We're right outside Uncle Quentin's laboratory here," whispered Dick. "And listen. There's Mrs Gowdie's wireless." The corridor went along for a little more then started to go downhill.

"Look," said Julian. "There are steps leading down. We must be almost underneath that big house next door to the castle. What is it called? Oh, yes. The Cedars."

Then they heard a noise. A faint shuffling and then a bang. The children stood stock still. George had her hand on Timmy's collar. Anne let out a little shriek.

"It's the ghost," she whispered.

Dick squeezed his little sister's hand. "The noise seems to have come from up ahead. Come on. Let's see if we can find our phantom."

The children crept on in silence, the bumping noises getting louder. Timmy started to growl. "If it is a ghost, it's a very clumsy one," observed Julian. "And it smokes. Smell that."

All of a sudden Timmy broke loose from George's grip and went bounding off into the darkness, barking loudly.

"Woof, woof," he barked joyfully.

"Come back Timmy," George shouted into the blackness. But Timmy was long gone.

The children ran until they came to a dead-end, with a hole just small enough for Timmy to have climbed through.

"Timmy!"

"Woof!" Timmy's voice was faint. He was having a whale of a time.

Then they heard voices.

"Hey there. Call orf your blinkin' dog, or I'll hit him with this big stick," shouted a rough cockney voice, that sounded pretty scared.

"Don't you touch him," shrieked George though the hole.

"I say. Let's smoke the blighters out," suggested Dick. "Look - here's a convenient exit we hadn't noticed before. We can gather some brushwood and set a rudimentary fire."

Just as they were blowing on the flames to make some more smoke, there was a big commotion. Several flashlights were coming towards them. The children looked up, terrified, then relaxed as they saw who it was. At the head of a big group of policemen was Uncle Quentin, in his dressing-gown, with Constable Peeler from the village.

"Alright, youngsters, you've had enough excitement for one night, said Constable Peeler. We can handle it from now on."

The children watched as several burly policemen started to dig away at the the secret cave. "We'll have 'em any minute now," said Constable Peeler. As the cave collapsed, three rough-looking men in flat caps and striped T-shirts, wearing little black masks, blinked into the flashlights, surrounded by sacks labelled "swag."

"Why, it's Burglar Bill, a notorious local villain," exclaimed Constable Peeler in surprise. "We've been trying to catch him for ages. And look, here he is with his gang. And his stash of ill-gotten gains."

"You've got me bang to rights, Gov," said Bill. "But Society is to blame. And I'd have got away with it too, if-"

That's enough Blyton. Ed...

*

Ok, so The Phantom's been off on a flight of fancy again. I just can't resist a cheap parody. But actually this isn't a million miles off an incident that really happened in 1847.

The house was on the spot where The Cedars is now, but it wasn't the same building. It was owned by a Mr Henry Aldwin Soames at the time, and he was having difficulties keeping servants due to a series of bangings and knockings, coupled with mysterious smoke coming from somewhere and filtering into the kitchen. The servants all gave notice, convinced the place was haunted.

One night the cook heard such loud knocking that she called the constabulary, who discovered the entrance to a small tunnel in dell behind the house. A dog was sent in, and, according to The Maidstone Journal, a man's voice was heard "bidding the dog quit the place." The constables shouted through the hole to the occupants, but they wouldn't come out. The police tried to smoke them out by lighting a fire outside the entrance, before commandeering spades and pick axes to dig them out. Once the hole was larger, they lit a bigger fire. Eventually three men emerged and were immediately arrested.

Apparently the cave had been used as a hidey-hole for a local gang, who stored their stash of loot in there. The knocking had been their attempts to break into the house for their closest-ever burglary.

When John Stone was writing in 1914, the tunnel still existed, though it had (perhaps understandably) been severed from the house during the building of some heated greenhouses. It would seem that it originally linked with the cellars in Vanbrugh Castle next door - maybe it used to link up with one of the 'follies' in Vanbrugh's back garden. I have no idea whether any of it is still there now.

What Stone is in no doubt about is that there was a long passage in Westcombe Park - he knew people who had been inside it. It would have connected Vanbrugh Castle with Vanbrugh House (which if, memory serves, was further down the hill.) Stone leaves us with the tantalising thought

"I venture to think that if excavations were made along this line, perhaps in the gardens of the new houses on the south side of Westcombe Park, the tunnel would be found."

More subterranean revelations another day, not least from a fabulous snippet Mat has sent me this morning. Ooh-err...

Cave in the Grounds of Woodlands House?

AS asks:

Having studied old maps of the area, I see that there was a cave in the grounds of the old nunnery in Mycenae Road, which is now Woodlands House. I wonder if this cave is well known, whether it is man made or a natural phenomenum. I expect it is blocked up now. I would be very grateful if anyone knows anything about this, and any history behind it.

The Phantom replies:

I don't know of any caves there - though Greenwich being Greenwich, the whole area is riddled with holes and passageways, and there could be one.

What I suspect it's more likely to be though, is the remains of an old ice house.

Ice houses were popular in the days before refrigeration and were usually situated in the darkest, dankest area of a house's grounds, to try to keep them cool. They were generally giant brick-lined pits often several metres deep, with a roof that was then often covered with a mound of soil, and shaded by trees, though some were disguised as little summerhouses or quaint cottages.

What happened was that during the winter ice was harvested from local ponds and shipped back by horse and cart to the ice house, where it was packed really solidly until, ideally, it was full. The contents were then used throughout the summer for keeping food chilled and making drinks and desserts. It wasn't always of the purest possible quality...

Nearly all major estates had an ice house, and Iunderstand that Woodlands was no exception. If it was covered with a mound of earth, it may well look like a cave, especially if the trees have grown up around it. Presumably it would have been abandoned at some point and small children (and Phantoms) happening upon it in the undergrowth could well have fantasised it was a secret chamber - which of course, in some respects by that time it would have been.

I have no idea if it still exists or even whether it was in the bit that is still green at Woodlands(the Angerstein estate stretched down as far as the river) but it would make sense for an ice house not to be situated too far away from the kitchen. I am sure that if it is still there it will be well blocked up as by their very nature ice houses have very deep shafts and are very dark indeed - a potentially lethal combination...

Maybe someone has some more information? Am I barking up anywhere near the right tree?

Underground Greenwich (5) The Stock Well

I am probably disproportionally excited today, folks, as one particular Very Long Search has ended for me. A tiny pamphlet has just arrived by registered mail, from an obscure bookshop in god-knows-where, stiffened by a piece of broken board from some long-dead hardback, and it has quickened my heart.

Perhaps one or two of you will already have this slim volume, but judging from the fun and games I had trying to get hold of a copy, the chances are it won't be on many people's bookshelves.

The Underground Passages, Caverns &c., of Greenwich and Blackheath, is the lecture notes from a talk given by John M Stone, MA, before The Greenwich Antiquarian Society on the 26th February 1914." No prizes for guessing the content.

I'm only a few pages in but already I'm learning fabulous new stuff. Not least that it was more or less a jolly jaunt for people to ramble in and around the various conduits of Crooms Hill, Greenwich Park and pretty much everywhere else in Edwardian times - albeit coupled with an "unpleasant feeling of going down into a grave as you descend through a hole in the grass" where "many ladies visiting the place for the first time have to repress an inclination to scream..."

Oooooerrr.

I'm learning about all kinds of underground places in the area I didn't even know about but the most pressing so far ( just 7 pages in), given the imminent development in the area, is the old Stock Well. It was, of course, given the name, at the bottom of Crooms Hill, around the end of Nevada St, where it becomes Stockwell St.

This ancient well was already established in Duke Humphrey's time. Humph had to get a Royal Licence in 1434 to run a conduit from there to his new gaff in the park because it would cross under the King's Highway and there weren't any statutory rights for utilities companies to dig up roads whenever they liked in those days.

The well was, by all accounts, the principle source of water for Greenwich - it seems The Point was honeycombed with little springs which filtered down towards the river. The water was helped on its way by a conduit which twists and turns underground - but which, if you lay a plan of it on top of an Ordnance Survey map, makes sense - it follows the ancient road. (It's not, apparently, the oldest conduit in Greenwich, but I haven't read that bit properly yet. I'm like a kid in Mr Humbug's shop right now...)

There exists a rather indistinct map from 1777 that implies the position "within a foot" of a pump which was probably the Stock Well, and what John Stone says next is, I think, quite pertinent to the major development to come. He writes:

"I trust that should opportunity occur it may some day be opened up. Think what archaeological treasures may there be reposing at the bottom of the well, dropped down from the earliest days of Greenwich in the daily and hourly user of the inhabitants through many centuries, and what chapters of local history might be opened up, could they be recovered."

Now, I don't know. Nearly 100 years have elapsed since this was written - and it's possible that this has already been done. If so I haven't heard of it. Maybe someone can set me right. But if it hasn't, surely the new building around there that's just about to come would provide an excellent excuse for a dig? And I'm sure, given the amount of times Thames Water have dug and re dug that bloomin' road recently, could there be a little extra excavation next time there's a suitable hole? A Section 106 project for the new developers, perhaps?

Actually, reading on, it's possible that the pump is underneath the theatre (called The Hippodrome in 1914.) I can't quite tell. That would make it next to the old Rose & Crown and almost opposite the Spread Eagle, slightly away from where the development is due to take place. But even so, it would be worth the developers being made aware that there is a possible ancient tunnel, maybe paved and walled in brick to look out for. Since this is such an old, old part of Greenwich, perhaps they should be employing an archaeologist on site anyway.

But I digress. I am a giddy Phantom today, hardly able to concentrate for all the goodies to discover in this floppy little pamphlet.

I'm reading on with a greedy eye. Some of this stuff is eye-popping (a comment I made in jest a few weeks ago, enjoying a flippant flight of fancy, seems to be rather nearer the truth than I had originally thought...) More gems from this fantastic new (old) source another day...

Flamsteed's Well

John Flamsteed was by all accounts A Grumpy Old Sod. Britain's first Astronomer Royal might have been a mathematical genius, but stuck away in the Royal Observatory more or less on his own for years on end, being constantly freezing cold, having to stay up all night, being paid bugger-all and having to buy his equipment out of his own money made him generally hard work to be with.

On the other hand it did make him thrifty. And not only that, he was genuinely curious about the night sky and the wonders of the universe. He was prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to find out more about the world - and because virtually everything to do with scientific instrumentation was still being invented, he was quite happy to look at everything around him with an improvisatory eye.

The Observatory had been built out of all kinds of bits and bobs - anything that Sir Christopher Wren could lay his hands on - from rubble purloined from the demolition of part of the Tower of London to whatever was left of poor old Duke Humphrey's Tower (which is pretty much why it's where it is - building on top of the old stronghold, one of Greenwich's earliest brownfield sites, meant that there was less lugging heavy dressed stone around...)

Flamsteed realised that the longer he could get a telescope the better he'd be able to see the heavens, but then, as now, money for research was tight. He was very impressed with his mate Robert Hooke's ingenious way of funding a telescope in the centre of London, by sneaking it into his design for The Monument in the early 1670s - the spiral staircase that winds around the outside meant that they could fit a giant telescope down the middle.

I find it hard to believe that Flamsteed actually went to the expense of digging a 100ft hole round the back of the Observatory for his own version in 1676 - but it would make perfect sense if he used Duke Humphrey's old well for the job. Flamsteed installed 150 spiral steps all the way down, and put a dear little cupola top on it. He then put his telescope down it, the idea being he would lie on a mattress and peer through the pipe.

Sadly it was never much cop. I'm slowly beginning to understand why Flamsteed was such a miserable git. The telescope was really rather wobbly and even if it could be fixed it could only look at a tiny part of the sky. What's worse was that lenses were pretty crude in those days too. It was abandoned almost immediately for other designs which presumably worked somewhat better.

The picture here is all that's left of the well - for years it was covered completely - when A D Webster wrote about it in 1902 there was merely a pole marking its position.

A few years ago there was a small archaeological dig to uncover the well - but they didn't get very far down through the rubble and detritus that had been used to fill it up before, presumably, the cash ran out for that particular project too. It is possible to at least see the top these days, though I'm not sure if the brick surround is original. I would love to see it uncovered just to a few feet down to give us some idea of what it would have been like, but as it is, it's filled in with gravel these days.

Underground Greenwich (4) Underneath the (ex) Gloucester Arms

1, King William Walk SE10

I read an extraordinary thing the other day. That back in The Olden Days, where the Greenwich Park Bar & Grill is now - but some still think of as the Gloucester Tavern/Arms - used to be a prison. It's unclear from the book I was reading whether it was also a tavern on ground level. Apparently lock-ups were often located under pubs - not a bad idea when you come to think of it - think of the felon-miles that could saved on a Saturday night if they put a cell under a few bars in the town centres of modern Britain...

But I digress (again.)

This was in use for some years, but most notoriously during the reign of Queen Mary, where Protestants were clapped in irons along with the regular perps, banged up awaiting the stake. I don't know if the tit-for-tat religious persecution that went on when Elizabeth came to the throne meant that later on Catholics inherited the same chains.

The author of the 1902 book that I was reading, (Greenwich Park - Its History and Associations, if you're interested,) A D Webster, inspected the cellars of what was then the Gloucester Arms and found, "attached to the cellar, a very likely prison, about 18 feet long by 12 feet wide, which in all probablility is the remains of that referred to," though he admits that not all the bricks seem to be that old - presumably the result of later repairs.

How to find out if it still exists?

Difficulty rating: Hard.

I can't see Greenwich Inc allowing phantoms to traipse down to their cellars, even if it hasn't all either been bricked-up or turned into a funky downstairs 'chillout' lounge with annoying wavery music, low faux-fur sofas and seventies-style pendant lights.

Maybe I could wear a brown lab coat, a pair of thick glasses and an improbable moustache, carry a clipboard and pretend to be a Man From The Council. Or I could try to get a job as a bartender, with Special Expertise in "changing the barrel."

There's an ancient, albeit ceremonial, post of Ale Tester (not sure if it's just for the City or not, but it's quite a job - you get paid £ 10 per year, in two £ 5 instalments, but you do get all the ale you can drink.) Perhaps next time they put on a new beer, I could wear the special 18th Century frock coat and wig and insist that I see where the barrel is installed.

No. I don't think I'd fall for it either. But maybe a Blue Badge Guide could "apply" officially to find out? Perhaps someone already has? Has the disguise already been donned? Does anyone know what's under the GPB&G nowadays? Do tell...

Davy's Wine Vaults

161 Greenwich High Road, SE10

Tucked away the "wrong" side of the station, I bet this little gem gets missed by the majority of tourists. The snob in me avoided it for a while because it was a chain (albeit one that's been going since 1870) but it seems I've been missing out.

It looks so olde-worlde-cute that I had to ask if the decor was actually genuine. Apparently it is - and if it has been 'enhanced,' I buy it. The lady behind the bar told me that it was originally a wholesalers and the sloping floor (which is still sprinkled with sawdust - don't let your coat touch the floor or you'll have some very interesting 'dandruff' when you leave) was so that the barrels could be rolled around more easily. The floor's rakish stance does mean that some of the simple candlelit tables and Windsor chairs are at an interesting angle - but you could always put it down to the number of pints of Davy's Old Wallop, served in pewter tankards, you've had...

To one side of the main bar, there's an old booth, that would have been used for making tallies and taking orders - there appears to be a little office in there now. Barrels are strategically placed, and there is a display of old bottles lit with a low light. It's all very Dickensian - though more Mr Micawber than Bill Sykes, judging from the prices these days...

What's really lovely about this place are all the nooks and crannies - little private areas and odd corners, often very dimly lit indeed. There are several tables just for a very few people, allowing private tete-a-tetes and intimate groups, as well as bigger tables in an adjoining room. Outside there is a yard with some old barrels and seating, which is good for a sunny day, but, considering the weather that's just arrived, will soon only be fit for the most hardened smoker.

You have to step down into the bar, so I was surprised when the lady told me there was a series of function rooms underneath it, which can be hired. They have a separate entrance, so it's not just like hiring the back room of a pub - and you get the whole floor to yourself.

Being underground, there's no natural light of course, but the plan follows a similar pattern to upstairs so are several small/medium/largish labyrinthine rooms which open into each other. They are dimly lit which makes it all very mysterious, and you can decorate them as you wish (nothing permanent, ok?) and there is a funky sound system which will take your ipod. There are also some simple conference facilities - when I sneaked a peek there was a screen and projector set up in one of the rooms, with a flip chart and desks.

If your party's quite small, you can choose to just use one or two of the rooms, though the price is the same however much you use. It's £ 200 per night, which includes staff and the opening of the fully-stocked bar downstairs (the bar itself is fab - looking like a merchant's chest, with dozens of wooden drawers built into it.) There are various menus - from canape to buffet - obviously at extra cost.

I think it would be best for winter celebrations (Christmas would be ideal) as it is very dark and cosy - I'd miss the sun in summer. The only celebrations they're not too keen on are 18th and 21st birthdays as they've had trouble in the past and there can be problems with underage drinking.

But back to the wine bar. They have a large wine list, but I confess I must have chosen poorly. I had a glass of White Burgundy (with which I generally can't go wrong) which was the 'best' of the wines by the glass. Writing now, almost a week later, I can't actually remember anything at all about it - it had very little aroma - or even taste. It wasn't awful - but I would have expected better for £ 5.95.

Davy's do wine tastings on an occasional basis. I will endeavour to visit one (the things I go through for this blog, eh. Darling, it's hell - but someone has to do it...) and report back. The other thing that requires an entry by itself is the separate Davy's Wine Shop just round the corner - but that's also for another day.

Excavations at Greenwich Palace 1970-71

Philip Dixon Greenwich & Lewisham Antiquarian Society, 1972

Over the weekend, in an obscure secondhand bookshop in the middle of nowhere, The Phantom Webmaster found me a lovely thing indeed - a pamphlet I had never seen before about the excavations at The Old Royal Naval College. I had only ever seen the aerial view of the dig at the Pepys Visitor Centre and had assumed that the pictures were so - well - grainy - that they must have taken place in the 1950s - and I was really rather surprised to see that they had actually been much more recent than that.

The idea of the excavations was to see what was left of the old foundations of the various palaces on the riverfront underneath the site of the Naval College, the most famous of which being the manor built by our mate, Humphrey,Duke of Gloucester and given that Changing Rooms look by Margaret of Anjou after Humph, ahem, fell from favour.

The palace was heavily repaired by Henry VII, and much enjoyed by Henry VIII and Elizabeth I but not much liked by other monarchs who, suffering from various aches and pains, preferred places a bit more luxurious. By the time Charles I came back to it, poor old Placentia was one of the classic ruins that Cromwell had knocked about and he began the redesign we see today.

Obviously the archaeologists weren't allowed to poke around under any of the existing buildings (not least because in the 70s the Old Royal Naval College was just The Royal Naval College and still very much in use.) So they dug under The Grand Square - the green bit in the middle which lines up with the Queen's House - where they put the ice rink these days.

300 volunteers mucked-in with the experts during the summer of 1970 and the spring of 1971, with the usual pressure that archaeologists labour under - that of the owners of the site wanting to cover it all up again. They knew that it was unlikely it would happen again in the foreseeable future so they did what they could, and left most of the analysis 'til later so they could concentrate on digging.

What I have in my sweaty little paw is the interim report, before it was all processed and I haven't even finished reading that yet, so I will have to return to what was actually discovered on a later occasion, but for now, on a quick flick-through, it would seem they found a little 14th C, a fair bit of 15th and 16thC foundations, some very interesting bits of the old manor house, remains of the kitchen, something that may have been a bathroom (I seem to remember Margaret enjoying her baths) an area of the courtyard and a bit of aqueduct.

I really need to read this lovely book and then find its friend, the results-pamphlet before being able to say much more. I'm also keen to find out whether there were any colour photos taken (surely there must have been - colour photography was hardly in its infancy in 1971) and where I can see them. I'm most annoyed I missed the recent archaeology exhibition at the Heritage Centre, where, presumably, everything would have been made clear, so I shall just have to go about it the hard way. Next time I must get my act together.

In the meanwhile, when the archaeologists couldn't eke any more time out of the powers-that-be, the huge spoil-heaps covering the site all went back into the holes, re-covering the foundations, for future generations to sift through. Sadly it probably won't happen in our lifetimes.

The oldest building in Greenwich?

I went on one of those organised historical walks several years ago which was frankly a bit weird on the whole - run by one rather quiet sane person and one very eccentric character who dominated the experience - but I did take one thing away from it. A thing, in fact, that I have been unable to corroborate since, but which I throw out to the ether now in the hope that someone a bit more historically accurate can fill me in on - let's face it - any of the details.

We were walking through the park just behind Park Vista, and pointed out part of a building - a cube-like building, with a little pyramidical roof squashed in between some more modern structures - and probably now part of one big (almost certainly splendid) house. You can only see the top bit but it's clearly Tudor-looking brick and the bit on the ground floor much older than the walls adjacent to it.



I was told on this walk that this was the only existing part of the old palace of Placentia , and that it is the old cover for the water supply that runs through the tunnels in the park. It sort of makes sense - after all, it would have been worth building a good cover for the palace water supply to prevent would-be poisoners - but I'm not sure I buy that it's that old. I didn't think that any of Placentia still existed and I also thought that the water tunnels were younger than that.

Of course it's still possible that this is the oldest building in Greenwich town. There are some old buildings here - but nothing very old - you need to go to Charlton to see Elizabethan stuff, for example, and Eltham for Tudor.

Am I wrong? IS there an older building in Greenwich? In this particular case I truly hope I've got the wrong end of the stick...

Enlighten me, please!