The Greenwich Phantom

Stuff Going On

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 16 May 2008 17:05:00 +0000

I've been sent a whole bunch of stuff going on over the next little while - and have put much of it up on the Parish News section - not in much detail I confess - time has got the better of me. But take a peek -everything from fairs to exhibitions, telly programmes and beer festivals is there.

If I've forgotten anything, do let me know - especially if you sent me stuff and I've missed it out - I'm a bit scatty just now.

As a quick note, if you're sending me something, please do try not to send it in PDF form. It's not just that I hate PDFs (though I do) but more that Googlemail doesn't open them properly and leaves stuff out or claims that the files are corrupted. Cut-and paste jobs or simple Word docs are best.

Happy stuff-doing this wet-looking weekend...

Voltaire, The Saucy Wenches of Greenwich Park and the Unfortunate Admiral Byng

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 16 May 2008 08:14:00 +0000

The more I dig around into the past, the more I realise that nothing stands alone - everything bounces off everything else. Things are going on at the same time as other, seemingly unrelated, things, fun mingles with tragedy, national events mingle with personal moments; celebrities mingle with those whose names are lost forever.

So, in trying to investigate what made the French philosopher and satirist Voltaire come to Greenwich in May 1726, I found myself trudging old ground with new boots.

Voltaire, in exile from France while his candid writing continued to smart among certain influential parties, managed to arrive at what must have been a truly surreal moment. He stepped off the boat on a cloudless Greenwich day, a gentle west wind playing at his periwig, and immediately found himself surrounded by hundreds of fabulously-dressed, sparkling, beautiful people. The young maidens, in particular, entranced him with their elegant cotton gowns, running pell-mell across the grass, and dazzling young men on horseback. All along the the Thames merchant vessels were bedecked with bunting, and a gilded barge twinkled with the sound of musicians and laughter. Everyone made him welcome, finding him a good place to view the races and getting him to join in.

"I fancied that I was transported to the Olympian games, but the beauty of the Thames, the crowds of vessels, and the vast size of the city of London soon made me blush for having dared to liken Elis to England."

What is this Arcadian Elysium he's describing with such rapture? Greenwich Fair, of course. Sadly he was relieved of his moment of bliss later when he met some ladies of the court, “who were stiff and cold and took tea and made a great noise with their fans”who put him right - telling him that the nymphs he had enjoyed so much earlier were mere serving girls in their Sunday best and the youths just apprentices on hired horses. The real hoi-poloy wouldn't be seen dead at such a bun-fight.

It's likely that Voltaire's account of his first day in England is about as true as Candide - but that doesn't necessarily make it un-real. The poor sod wouldn't have been able to speak a word of English, and he didn't have any money either (he later admitted "I was without a penny, sick to death of a violent ’flu, a stranger, alone, helpless, in the midst of a city wherein I was known to nobody.") He was writing to a pal back home - for his friend's amusement - but what he was doing here was what he always did - tell a funny story to illustrate a finer point. His point being the coldness of the people of the court - whether or not he actually experienced much warmth at the fair itself doesn't really matter.

It's his contempt of the courts and the people who ran it that is at the heart of this passionate man, and it's his other connection with Greenwich that touches me more. England had been at loggerheads with France for donkeys years - and much of the time that amounted to all-out war. Remember Admiral Byng? The unfortunate seaman who thought he'd try to repair his ship before facing the French again and got executed for his pains? Well Voltaire was really very affected by Byng's case. So affected, in fact, that he thought he'd try to help out.

He wrote several impassioned letters to various people, including passing on the good opinions of his great friend, the Duc du Richelieu to relevant English authorities.

In retrospect, this may not have been the best possible thing to do. It doesn't seem to have occurred to Voltaire that both himself and the good duke were, by pure accident of birth, ahem, French. Byng's stars already occupied the wrong place in the heavens, and though it's unlikely that Voltaire's well-meant intervention actually did for him - he was a gonner anyway, I doubt it helped much.

In February 1757, Voltaire wrote to Richelieu of Byng "The court martial found him a brave man and a true. But, notwithstanding, by one of those contradictions which are common in all such cases, he was condemned to death on the strength of an ancient law--I know not what."

And poor old Voltaire had to admit that their own efforts probably hadn't helped much:

"The faction which attacked him now accuses him of treachery in trying to turn your letter to account-as if it were that of a man he had bribed to speak for him. So reasons malice: but the clamour of the dogs will not prevent honest people from regarding your letter as that of a just and generous conqueror, prompted only by the magnanimity of his heart."

Despite the Gallic duo's best efforts, Byng was executed a month later, on his own ship, after being held in Greenwich Hospital as a prisoner. The above wasn't quite Voltaire's last word on the matter. He mentions it obliquely again in his 1757 masterpiece Candide, where the Byng-character is also executed.

"Dans ce pays ci, c'est bon, de temps en temps, de tuer un amiral pour encourager les autres."

In this country, it's good from time to time, to kill an admiral to encourage the others..."

Bet he wished he'd never left Greenwich Fair...

Photography Competition

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Thu, 15 May 2008 13:57:00 +0000

...Aha - thought that would make you look...

Yes indeedy, folks, the good burghers at The Friends of East Greenwich Pleasaunce are running a competition to coincide with their latest Summer get together on June 8th. After the last couple of washouts, let's hope they have better weather for their summer kneesup, because if you want to enter, you'll have to go along...

The exact stalls are, I'm told, yet to be decided, but will include the usual faves, which I'm assuming will include books, cakes and punch plus others, something for the kids and perhaps the local fire service.

But onto the comp. You need to get over to the Pleasaunce and start snapping now (well perhaps not quite now unless you like capturing artistic drips from ancient anchor-shaped gravestones...) The only rules are that it has to be all your own work and it has to be recognisably East Greenwich Pleasaunce. There will be a mystery prize courtesy of Ivor Howell Cameras in Westcombe Hill and entrants will be eligible for a planned exhibition at Viewfinder Photography Gallery in the Autumn.

Now - no sending the stuff to me, ok? I mean - yes - by all means send me pictures of anything you like (see my FAQs for how that works) but if you want to enter the competition, you need to bring the picture(s) along to the shindig on June 8th. If you have any questions about the competition please email pleasauncefriends@hotmail.co.uk

Selling The Blackwall Tunnel Southern Approach

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Thu, 15 May 2008 07:03:00 +0000

It's new, it's groovy and it's going to solve all your problems. Look - it's so funky we've even done you a cool leaflet in sizzling brown 'n' orange, with all kinds of amaaaaazing models and diagrams to show you just how fab it's going to be. The GLC is getting on down like the proverbial sex machine you always knew we were and we're going ape...

Ok, Flower People. It's 1971. The Age of Aquarius is dawning and Love is all around. And what better way to promote Peace to all Men than by creating a hip new motorway to link hands across the water, North with South?

The old Blackwall Tunnel, built in 1897, was created at a time when the best it could expect was the odd milk cart or horse-drawn omnibus. Fewer than 1,000 vehicles used it a day. By the Swinging Sixties all those camper vans and minis had forced the building of a second tunnel, opened 60 years after the first in 1967.

I'll get onto that another day (unless Tunnelbore beats me to it, of course...) for now, I'm more interested in a slim pamphlet that came tucked in between a bunch of guidebooks I bought as a job lot recently. One of those ephemeral leaflets that would have been distributed to houses in the area to let them know what was going on (much as we're getting - or perhaps not getting, ahem, leaflets about the Olympics) and by rights should have been thrown away. But it wasn't - and now, though pure fluke, I've got it.

It's a Greater London Council document about the proposed new Blackwall Tunnel Southern Approach Road (the A102 to us; Misery Alley to thousands of commuters.) Work had begun in 1967, but this leaflet was produced as an extra clarion call to trumpet the joys of the coming Saviour of The London Motorist.

It's a fascinating document for many reasons - not least the sheer optimism with which it's been written. There's no puff-piece from some councillor at the beginning - it relies on the excitement that such a project will surely imbue in every citizen by its very existence. I mean - who wouldn't want a new motorway running through their back garden? So it ploughs straight into the technical stuff. It gives, in far more detail than today's dumbed-down documents, snippets of how it will be constructed and what with.

Charmingly, one of the ingredients is ribbed concrete. Perhaps not your idea of Nirvana, but the pamphlet can hardly conceal its excitement that this is the very same material that had just been used on the new elephant house at London Zoo. In similarly excited terms we are told of exotic materials such as 'grit-blasted' and even 'fair-faced' concrete. Innovations such as electrical road heating on the Woolwich Road Flyover (blimey...) emergency telephones and traffic surveillance equipment would be installed. Truly a Seventies Dream.

This was quite a departure. The old Blackwall Tunnel approach was (unsurprisingly) Tunnel Avenue. Hard to imagine that that sleepy little backwater was once the artery that led to the gaping maw that is the tunnel today. The leaflet is at pains to describe the new route. It would "begin near the gas holders (note the plural there - TGP) in Tunnel Avenue...and from that point southwards it will take a new route for nearly two miles, bridging over Blackwall Lane and Woolwich Road and passing under the railway by Westcombe Park Station."

It was all a bit bewildering, especially for the good folks of places like yesterday's Aldeburgh and Fearon Roads. So they provided maps a-go-go. The one that has the road superimposed over an Ordnance Survey Map didn't want to scan, so I've included (at the risk of getting my head cut off - this is, after all, all Crown Copyright, gulp) a photo instead:

From what I can tell, there was some compulsory purchase and demolition (even today roads such as Farmdale and Siebert and Westcombe Hill feel curiously truncated) but once it got to the Peninsula, it seems to have gone over allotment land (if you look at old maps, there were acres of allotments even thirty years ago) before ducking back down to the old road - where those two once-glorious red-brick buildings now stand forlornly wondering whether there was something their best friends never told them...

But my favourite part of the leaflet is definitely the artists impressions. No computer graphics in those days. Oh no. We got proper drawings then - such as that orange delight of the underpass at Bramshot Ave (above) and proper models, made out of cardboard, sticky-backed plastic, toilet rolls and matchsticks. Here, just for Dazza, is the model of Woolwich Road Flyover, complete with attendant foot and railway bridges. Not quite sure where you'd be on this map, Dazza - probably just off it - but cute, isnt' it? I love the little trucks, myself.

For anyone on the northern end of Tunnel Avenue, here is the model of the Boord St Footbridge. Puzzled by the name? Boord St (or what's left of it) is just next door to the Gas Holder (note the use of the singular form - TGP) - I'll wager it's the street with the old school on it. Curly, huh?

Whatever this road turned into, they clearly thought at the time it was the end to all Thames crossings ills. It was an age of optimism. An age before Global Warming, OPEC embargos and Environmental Concern. And this leaflet, in its brown and orange livery, is a little part of that optimism. Hell - reading it, even I feel excited. So when's this all happening then?

Hot News

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Wed, 14 May 2008 17:05:00 +0000

Straight off the press, folks.

I emailed the Cutty Sark Trust yesterday about my idea for an Observation Platform - and have just received this from Julia Parker, Operations Manager:

"Guess what? We will soon be having a viewing platform!It’s taken us a while to sort out the details, but hopefully we should have it in place within the next month.I’ll send you an update as soon as I have an exact date….."

So - not quite because of me - the idea was in the ether already - but hey - who cares. Beat you to the front of the queue, guys...

Julia's said she'll send me some up to date pics too. Cor...

Yet more filming...

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Wed, 14 May 2008 16:26:00 +0000

Ross says:

"On my way to work this morning I noticed umpteen lorry loads of filming equipment being unloaded at the top of Point Hill into the small park behind where I live (on your right as you get to the top of Point Hill - the name escapes me having only just moved there recently). I wonder if it's related to the goings on down in the Maritime area?"

The Phantom replies:

Goodness - not again! That will be the Point you're talking about. I have no idea what it's for this time. I walked up to the Point a few days ago only to find, once I'd huffed and puffed my way up there, the whole place overtaken with meeja types in square glasses telling me I couldn't go in, and giant cameras creating 'sun' on what seemed to be a perfectly sunny day. When I had a couple of friends to stay recently we couldn't get into the Painted Hall because they were filming a Japanese biscuit commercial. And that's not even beginning to count biggies like Wolf Man, The Golden Compass and The Duchess. Heavens to Murgatroyd.

Do you think that Greenwich Film Unit aren't charging enough or something? I mean it's nice to see the place being used - but there doesn't seem to be a day in the calendar that somewhere isn't out of bounds. I might as well move to Pinewood...

On a slightly less grumpy note, though, you do get to meet some interesting folk. Here is, for no other reason than he made me smile a lot, a security guard on the set of Wolf Man, giving me his impression of the Hairy One himself.

Uncanny, eh...

Phantom Favourite Front Gardens (8)

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Wed, 14 May 2008 06:48:00 +0000

Alderburgh St, SE10

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

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

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

A gardener of taste lives here.

Cutty Sark Cash-Generator-O-Matic

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Tue, 13 May 2008 16:02:00 +0000

I've just had a thought. Every time I go past the Cutty Sark's boarded-up hulk, I see some one or other trying to peek through the little gap in the gate where the padlock goes. Sometimes there's even a little queue of nosy parkers trying to get a glimpse of what's going on - especially now there are interesting noises again. And let's face it - we're all just a little bit curious to know how things are proceeding behind that chipboard and plastic shell.

Don't you think it would be great if they created a little scaffolded observation platform, where people could pay a couple of quid a pop to watch the work going on? It would surely pay for itself - they might even get a local company to donate the equipment and erection in return for a little sign on the side - and they'd get more money towards the restoration programme. It could even be a little ramp so that wheelchairs could get up there too - after all it's not that high up.

I'd certainly return on a regular basis - especially if there was the odd expert around to answer questions from time to time. And it would be a good way of getting tourists involved in the works so they'd be more likely to return when it was finished.

What do you think, folks? Shall I suggest it to them? Would you pay a small fee to see the restoration works? How much? Maybe they could do a loyalty card scheme - where you get your card stamped every time you visit the works - a full card would be a free visit when it all opens again?

Right Royal Car Boot Sale

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Tue, 13 May 2008 11:17:00 +0000

Q: What do The Greenwich Phantom and HRH The Duke of Edinburgh have in common?
A: When they went to the Historic Dockyards at Chatham they were both really only interested in seeing one thing - the bits and bobs of the Cutty Sark that are currently in storage there.

To be honest I didn't really think they'd be in some place the public could go. And I certainly didn't expect to see them in the open air. For some reason I just assumed that they would be being kept in a warehouse somewhere obscure, under lock and key. But on a family day out to Chatham Dockyard I just had to ask where it was.

The answer is on a very dull piece of dock, in between HMS Gannet and the submarine HMS Ocelot. All lain out on the ground, surrounded by metal fencing, like a giant car boot sale. I actually passed the stuff twice before finding it - it just looks like a pile of marine scrap - which I guess in some respects it is.

One of the orange-boiler-suited chaps who show people round, told me that the Cutty Sark guys rang round all the dockyards looking for space. Most of it's here, but not all; it's in various places - some's even down in Portsmouth - which at least spreads the risk. And it is behind metal fence, and the whole site is locked at night. But somehow it just feels a bit - well - vulnerable, to me. After all, a chap in the Ropery on the same site said that a giant coil of 28" rope that was not even useful to HMS Ark Royal got half-inched this winter - and some of the Cutty Sark's parts are really quite small and must have 'souvenir' value...

But what I really find so odd about it all is that this is a museum with paying visitors - you'd think they'd make a bit more of it. There's no sign, no note on it to say that this pile of junk is part of possibly the most famous ship in the world. You'd think they'd cash in, give it a sign and perhaps have someone dedicated to showing visitors what there is and what's going on with it (complete with collecting box - they still have a few million to find...)

The guy (whom I had to seek out - he certainly wasn't hanging around the stuff) told me that work has been done on it - especially the cabins (not that you'd notice it just yet) and people are interested - when The Duke of Edinburgh came to unveil a sculpture he was far more interested in making them show him round the Cutty Sark stuff (hooray - a royal patron who actually cares about their cause...)

And I really think that everyday visitors (and Phantoms, natch) would want to see it too - as it is I'd say that 99% of them will be just walking straight past this right-royal jumble sale, without even noticing it. I mean - I know the Dockyard's being paid for it - but this isn't the Big Yellow Self Storage Company looking after a couple of old wardrobes and some skiing gear here - they're missing a trick. It's all in full view - and yet somehow it's invisible.

But whatever. The main thing is that it wasn't on board the ship in Greenwich last May. And for that I am grateful. And there seem to be chalk markings everywhere so that the jigsaw will go back together again easily:

One other interesting thing about Chatham Royal Dockyard for Greenwich-o-philes (apart from the Chatham Chest) is that the guy also told me the giant 18th Century brick-built Dockyard Foundry (which has to be 150m in length) and which is being restored now:

will, by 2010, house the National Maritime Museum's collection of model ships. Apparently whenever a new ship is built a model HAS to be made of it - and the NMM holds them all, currently in storage. We will be able to see them soon, thanks to a £13m lottery grant.

But don't leave it that long - do give Chatham a visit. The guy told me (before he got called away to deal with a double-parked steam engine - I kid you not) that very sunny days like these are generally quiet because everyone goes to the coast instead...

Greenwich Fair.

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Mon, 12 May 2008 07:32:00 +0000

It feels a bit wrong to talk about a May Monday fair on one of the few May Mondays that doesn't have a holiday on it, but that's the way the Christian Moveable Feast crumbles. I almost missed this morning, having forgotten that Pentecost and it's old name Whitsun were one and the same festival, but I noticed just in time to be able to talk about the scandalous Greenwich Fair* that went on for centuries before the authorities closed it down.

This was the day when all of London seemed to flock here. It was a great leveller - toffs would rub shoulders (and heaven knows what else) with their servants, tradesmen with their customers, dockers with muckers, sailors with soldiers, and, of course, the criminal fraternity with practically anyone who didn't have their eye (and one hand) firmly on their valuables.

For the duration of the Fair, anything went. The place teemed with life - and the inhabitants, for the most part, took advantage of it. Houses would open up their front rooms as 'tea shops,' locals would hawk whatever they could to the hoardes of visitors and even the Greenwich Pensioners got in on the act by hiring out their telescopes so that people could 'look at St Paul's Cathedral.' They were, frankly, more interested in ogling the pirates hanging from the gibbets down at Blackwall.

Hawkers, sideshows, wax works, lurid theatrical entertainments - there were booths for anything the partying cockney could want, and as the years went on, the upper classes left them to it more and more.

They could get a tooth pulled or watch a prize fight. They could buy a trinket or dance a quadrille. They could hear a trumpet voluntary or get their fortunes told, watch wild beasts fight or drink a barrel of beer. They could visit Wombwell's Menagerie or any one of the dozens of alehouses on the Thames. They could 'meet' a nice young lady and if they were really getting on, that they could engage in a spot of tumbling together. He could even get himself a Scratcher to tease her with. (no - not some strange marital aid - it was little serrated wheel on a stick which you rolled up and down your victim's back. The noise it made sounded as though you'd ripped their clothes. Hilarious.)

By the Victorian age it was really getting out of hand. Charles Dickens described it as "a sort of spring-rash, a three day fever which cools the blood for six months afterwards." Nathaniel Hawthorne wasn't so charitable. The fair merely reminded him that "the common people of England, I am afraid, have no daily familiarity with even so necessary thing as a washbowl, not to mention a bathing tub."

The 'nicer' people of Greenwich, largely those who were moving into the smart new houses going up during the early 19th Century, agreed with him and started to campaign to get the fair closed down. At first the hawkers, tradesmen - and punters - took absolutely no notice. After the railways arrived, it got even more crowded - 200,000 people and more. The Greenwich elite got even more panicked and eventually, after a riot of drunken soldiers in 1850, the fair was suppressed in 1857.

So as we sit here on a May Monday morning, considering another week at work, have a care for the cockney lad and his lass enjoying one of the few days off they'd get a year...

* There was a fair at Easter and also in October. AD Webster reckons it was on 12th, 13th and 14th May and 11th, 12th and 13th Oct - but I find it hard to imagine that it would have always been on those exact dates.

Deer Me

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Sat, 10 May 2008 07:20:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fishmonger News

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 09 May 2008 13:24:00 +0000

Or maybe it's Olds for some of you but it's certainly news for me. For months people have been finding some very erratic opening hours at the Trafalgar Road branch, including me and today, after making a special walk to get some fish (working on the "it's Friday morning - if a fish shop is going to be open any time it will be then" approach) and finding the shutters down again, I emailed the Fishmonger team to find out once and for all what's happening.

Emma replies:

"Unfortunately, we have had to close the Trafalgar Road shop. All of our business is now out of the Circus Street/Royal Hill branch. We are in the process of updating the web site with the new information and that should be working within a week or so. We are open in Circus Street from Tuesday to Friday 8.00 till 5.00 and on Saturday from 7.30 until 4.30. We are closed the day after a bank holiday as the inshore fishermen do not go to sea on a public holiday."

So - I've gone from being a grumpy Phantom to a sad Phantom. I guess it's good that we've at least got a fishmonger in Greenwich - but once again yet another good quality shop is over in the west, leaving the east with another closed storefront...

Briefly Comprising...

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 09 May 2008 11:10:00 +0000

I cannot believe I'm the only one who gets nigh-on apoplectic when I look at estate agents' grammar. Let's face it, no kid goes to their careers officer and tells them that what they've always dreamed of was running away to Foxtons, but really - these guys are trying to sell something. They have a few precious words in which to do it. You'd think they'd use them wisely.

I'm not talking about the usual cliches - "bijou" (small) "cosy" (ditto) "compact" (ditto) "ideal renovation opportunity" (falling down) "individual" (weird) "sought-after area" (anywhere) "quiet" (miles away) "ideal transport links" (backs onto the Blackwall Tunnel Approach) "exposed beams" (exposed sky, too) "easily manageable" ( back to 'small' again...)

These are so bloomin' obvious they don't actually get used very much any more and when they are I almost enjoy them in a nostalgic kind of way - the same way I enjoy Prawn Cocktail, Black Forest Gateau and cheese and pineapple cubes on sticks. Or maybe it's more Blue Nun and Sparkling Pomagne...

No - it's the way they mangle the English Language that gets me. Here is the phrase I've just seen that inspired this post:

"...within a mile radius of Greenwich Village"

This gets three of my worst goats in one succinct sentence.

"Radius." Surely a radius is round. Not a posh way of referring to any old distance from A to B.

"Within." The usual use for "within" in the Estate Agent lexicon is a fancy word for "in." As in "situated within a highly sought after area." Here, of course, if "radius" was working, this would actually be necessary, but it's not, so it's just irritating the hell out of me.

"Greenwich Village." Have you ever heard anyone who isn't an estate agent refer to our town centre as "Greenwich Village?" Greenwich Village is in effing New York. We have the original. We don't need to tack "village" on the end of it to make it look cute.

It doesn't stop there, of course. Other phrases I detest: "briefly comprise" - "boasting a..," "at an asking price of..." and those horrid jaunty, jokey ads with the comedy-pun headlines.

The one I hate most of all?

"Home."

A home is what one makes of a building. Until it is inhabited and loved, a property is a house/flat/room/whatever. It is not a home.

Sorry. Not sure where that came from. Attacking an easy target is pretty rubbish of me, really. I'm even covering old ground - I've grumbled about all this before. I should just let it lie. I seem to be back to being a Grumpy Old Phantom again...

Catchment Areas

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 09 May 2008 07:59:00 +0000

Anon (ahem) asks:

Does anyone know if there is a catchment area for Halstow Road School? We live not far away (Dinsdale Road) and it seems that kids in our street are being sent to the Millennium school. Not that there’s anything wrong with the Millenium school but for those of us who don’t drive and have to get a tandem buggy on public transport, it seems a bit of a schlep, with Halstow around the corner. I just assumed that Halstow would be our nearest school.

The Phantom replies:

I heard it was something ridiculous, like 0.2 of a mile but that was something like third-hand, so don't take my word for it.

My first thought when I read this was the whole postcode thing - Halstow, being north of the railway tracks, is SE10, you being south, will be SE3 - but that's clearly not going to work as the Milennium will also be SE10. I think it's just that Halstow seems to be so popular that the catchment area is tiny. Know anyone in Halstow Road you can rent a room from?

Oh Beehive!

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 09 May 2008 07:58:00 +0000

Beehive Cafe

Ex-Flying Duck, Creek Road

I have been trying to get to this place since Angie told me it was going to open - in my keen-ness I managed to go before it was actually operative. I had a lovely chat with the people who have moved into Flying Duck's old gaff - four of them in all, all ex-market people - two lots of vintage clothes, a record guy and the coffee man. All delighted to have their own premises at last (the biggest comment was 'out of the cold - at last') even if they have to share it to be able to afford the rent. But we owe the Flying Duck people a big vote of thanks in that they may have gone themselves, but they absolutely refused to allow any chains to come in in their place and happily allowed independents to split the rent.

Then Real Life got in the way. I got emails by the crate-load - M&R, Darren, Jen, Angie, Katja - to name just the ones I can remember - telling me how good this coffee is, but only actually managed to get there yesterday.

And now I know what the fuss is about. This coffee is fabulous, folks. A worthy contender for the now-open crown (since the tragic demise of the Coffee Cellar) of "Best Coffee In Greenwich." Rich and satisfying, yet mellow and un-bitter at the same time, it's the owner's own blend, roasted by his own fair hand at his roastery in Charlton (you can still buy it at his stall on Stockwell St Market at weekends.)

The guy's Antipodean (I can't tell from his accent whether he's Aussie or a New Zealander - I'm sure someone will put me right) and they take their coffee very seriously Down Under. It truly is exceptional coffee - and for homesick antipodeans everywhere, yes, they do Flat Whites, and served with that all-important smile on their faces. It truly made me wonder at the queue outside the deeply inferior Starbucks that I had to pass to get to Beehive.

In fact my only complaint is the size of the place. It's minute. There's a couple of chairs around but apart from that you can really only get takeaway - nice enough on a day like this but less fun on a rainy Monday. Three of us trooped in and it was overcrowded. He needs a bigger place and quick.

But I have a cunning plan, and it goes like this.

We all visit this great new cafe, buy lots of coffee and then persuade the owners (someone told me it was Joy, but it could be Greenwich Hospital Trust) of the now-vacated Coffee Cellar to give the Beehive guy a good rent. We then persuade him to keep the groovy 60s theme and we'll once again have fantastic coffee in cool retro surroundings. Voila!

If you want to order hand roasted coffee - either for mail order or to pick up at the market stall, visit http://www.londoncoffeeroasters.co.uk/

New Blogs

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 09 May 2008 07:30:00 +0000

Thought I'd let you know that there are a few new blogs to check out. Firstly, Blackheath Bugle has assured me that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery - from the name you'll probably guess what he'll be blogging about...

Curiously, the folks at the window-box company who offered the free box a few weeks ago (I'm still looking for suggestions for that one, btw) said much the same thing about their new blog Little Green Space for green-fingered types.

And finally, Franklin (and his shiny new avatar) was enjoying the conversation we were having about the election and its consequences so much that he's started a blog just to talk about Greenwich politics. Check him out at Greenwich Provocateur For those excited by the name I think I should perhaps let you down gently by saying I don't think he's intending to sell saucy undies.

The Phantom is feeling smugly parental this morning.

Good luck with the blogs, guys...

New Food Market

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Thu, 08 May 2008 08:22:00 +0000

Greenwich Market, Wednesdays to Sundays.

Several of us have been keeping an eye on proceedings at Greenwich Market's new foodie section (or the expansion of the old section) - and yesterday was the first day.

I confess I hadn't been that excited about it - the one that operates on the usual busy market weekends perhaps wisely concentrates on tourists - so the food tends towards the scoff-it-on-the-spot variety - interesting enough, but not the kind of ingredients you can get somewhere like Blackheath Farmers Market. I had assumed an expansion of the same.

Still - I had to go and have a look. Obviously.

It's clearly early days - there can't have been more than half a dozen stalls, spaced out in the market - very open and airy, but slightly empty-looking. And some of them were the usual suspects - as I say, nice enough, but not somewhere I'd go for my groceries. But I was very pleased to see at least two 'proper' fruit and veg stalls - one selling Kentish farm goods - from free range eggs, tomatoes and cucumbers to first-of-the-season strawberries, the other the Greenwich Community fruit and veg stall - extremely good value.

There were sundry bigwigs wandering around while I was there (that's how I could tell it was the first day - nothing if not observant, me...) and photographers, presumably for the local papers, but my own pics turned out utterly rubbish. Just imagine a fairly empty Greenwich Market Hall with a few very nice-looking stalls (the fairy cakes stall is scrummy - and no, I refuse to call them 'cupcakes...') and you'll have it.

The service on all the stalls was welcoming and friendly - if a little slow, as the stallholders chatted with everyone - a throwback to ye olden days when shopping was a social experience.

As I say, it's early days. There aren't that many stalls. But it's definitely worth a look - patronise it now and there will be more...

Prehistoric Greenwich (1) Cox's Mount

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Thu, 08 May 2008 06:20:00 +0000

Charlton

Start of a new occasional series today, guys, delving into Greenwich before Greenwich. Paul has been talking to me about the really ancient prehistory of the area which, in his own words, is "pretty lush," and virtually unknown outside archaeological circles.

He's been doing a bit of his own research, too and making some calculations, measurements and digging (not always literally - anyone who watches Time Team - a controversial programme, we're divided in our household - will know there's nothing like a spot of geo-fizz) and has been coming to some interesting conclusions...

Cox's Mount, at the Thames-end of the Maryon/Maryon-Wilson/Gilberts Pits group, was a vast Iron Age hill fort. I vaguely remember reading about it in Beryl Platt's book (though of course, much as I loved that volume, and romantic as I am, I still felt a tad uneasy about some of her conclusions about mythical characters and fairy tale princes - you'll find my entry on it on April 1st...) and it seems that Charlton was a big deal in the Iron Age. It's hardly surprising - if you climb all the steps up to the top of the mount above Gilbert's Gravel pit it's a loooong way up - and that's after the erosion caused by said pit.

Sadly the gravel pits, fascinating as they are in their own right (another day, another day...) are a large part of the reason why there's virtually nothing left of the fort. We can only guess how big it actually was - excavations reveal it's less than an eighth of its original size, though, and it was certainly big enough for the Romans to cast their beady eyes on it then move in themselves.

Paul's had his metaphorical tape measure out, and though he's still working on it, he has, as a by-product, cleared up a couple of questions I had about road names in the area. Rathmore (Road - where the benches are) means "Great Fort" and Troughton (Road, next door) means "Ditch" - but they are about 1000 metres away and Paul points out this is far too big for a single fort, so it was probably another one. I had wondered, since Paul also tells me that there were some excavations done around the turn of the last century, whether the Victorians named the roads for the dig but it seems that they were done in 1915 - too late, I suspect, for the buildings - so maybe the names are older.

During these excavations the remains of a couple of buildings were found, so it must have been an exciting time, but Paul reckons that most of the buildings wouldn't have been on top anyway. Excavations at Danebury, a humungus fort in Hampshire, show that most people, including the chief, would have lived in the lower slopes as farmers, saving the long slog uphill for the times when they were under siege - probably from rival clans - or even Mafia-style protection rackets. We can only specualte as to what an Iron Age Don Corleone might have looked like...

They also found three Roman vases, including one that had been tossed away by the gravel extractors. Paul continues:

"A prehistoric hearth was found on top, indicated by burnt pebbles to the depth of 33 inches deep and 36 wide. So deep it was probably for smelting bronze and iron. It's believed the two of the mounds at the highest part may be barrows. The site demonstrates 400 years of occupation from around 50bc."

By the time the Romans arrived all that climbing had clearly got to most of the farmers of South-east England, and since numbers were increasing, they were turning more to walled towns. The tribal boundaries would have been miles away anyway by now. But no point in wasting a good fort, and the invading Romans were most interested in its possiblities, which would account for the buildings and vases found.

There don't seem to be any of those fab 'artist's impressions' of the fort itself (yeah, yeah, who didn't buy that one of the Roman soldiers on the loo at Hadrian's Wall as a kid? Ah. Just me, then...) but Paul has sent me a fascinating picture of the view from the fort in the very early 20th Century. A truly involving picture in so many ways. As usual, click on any image to make it larger.

The colour photos are of the 'barrows,' which he took when he nipped under the fence to get a closer look. If you do the same, take care - last time I was there a woman walking her dog nearly ended up in the bushes below...

Paul has an archaeological manufacturing business (exactly what it sounds - his little cottage industry makes stone axes - I have a wonderful image in my mind of him outside his wattle and daub hut in Charlton, knapping his flints by the fire, a blackened cauldron bubbling away merrily as he works...) Check him out here and here ...

More prehistoric fun another day, folks...

Wisteria Walk

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Wed, 07 May 2008 12:49:00 +0000

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

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

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

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

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

...and this splendid fellow in Park Vista:

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

Inspiration...

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Wed, 07 May 2008 07:16:00 +0000

Dustin is a playwright from Seattle with an intriguing problem...

His latest creation takes place in

"various locations in Seattle and London...a large part of the second half of the play takes place in a kind of run down hotel in Greenwich...mainly because of it being on the prime meridian. That fact that its run down can be fictional, but I'm looking for something old with a lot of character and a fun name to it and to know what street(s) it is on. Can you help/think of anything? "

The Phantom replies:

Curiously enough, Dustin, for a town that has many tourists, Greenwich has very few hotels with any kind of character. Most of our hotels tend to be unexciting corporate jobs - the Ibis, for example, The Novotel or even Devonport House, which is in the grounds of the Old Royal Naval College, and yet still manages to be unexciting. There are a couple of rather nice (and quirky) B&Bs - Number 16 St Alphege's Passage, for example, round behind the church - but it's not run down.

If you want run-down, you need to cross Blackheath to the imposing-looking Clarendon Hotel. From the outside it looks glamorous indeed, surveying the heath and looking across at Greenwich Park (I'd say it was a few hundred yards from the meridian.) A series of of 18th Century buildings, I'd guess, with the name picked out in big red letters, lushly glowing across the heath at night. A glass canopy gives a dry walk from the gravel car park to the door. It all says 'posh.' Inside, it's a different story. I calculate it was last decorated some time around the early 1980s, and, in hotel terms, unless you're going for 'retro.' that's a long time ago. There are a few reception-y sort of areas upstairs, with a bar, and downstairs some more not-terribly exciting bars with furniture that's a bit too big for the size of the rooms. None of it's truly nasty - it's just tired. I can't remember whether it has two or three stars, but I'd guess two.

This place could be a palace - and with a view and a building like that, should be one of the classiest hotels in London. Instead, its main business seems to be from discount coach tours and cheap package deals (doubles start at £100, which for London ain't bad) and on that kind of custom refurbishing doens't look like it's going to be on the cards for some time.

By-the-by and slightly off-topic, I noticed that at Reception they were advertising for sale all three of Neil Rhind's books on Blackheath, including the out-of-print second volume of Blackheath Village and Environs. Now, knowing that the hotel isn't famous for its up-to-dateness, it could be an old sign - but it might be worth a try - especially if you live in the Westcombe Park area and are interested in its history.

You know, Dustin? I reckon your best bet would be to invent the run-down hotel of your dreams. Possibly around the West Greenwich area - Nevada St, Royal Hill, Crooms Hill (an ancient road) though if you really want somewhere on the meridian, you should think about creating a place on Park Vista (I THINK that it crosses it) Trafalgar Road or close to the power station. In fact - here's an idea. Why not make the Cutty Sark pub an inn too - it may well have been at one point. It's on Ballast Quay, it's 18th century, it's a few yards from the meridian, VERY pretty and it's lapped by the Thames. If you sit outside of an evening you can sip your pint, looking out at the laser that follows the meridian line.

But maybe other people have a suggestion. Can you suggest either a run-down hotel or somewhere that could have a fictitious run-down hotel for Dustin?

Let us know how it goes, Dustin...

The Nelson Pediment

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:39:00 +0000

King William Court, The Old Royal Naval College

I always find it a bit odd that one of the best bits of The Old Royal Naval College is tucked away in a side-court so you actually have to seek it out rather than it being on display for all to see. It's huge (40ft x 10ft) - but frankly it feels a bit like an afterthought. And, to some extent, I guess it is.

Nelson was (and remains) Britain's most important naval commander, but he died after the ORNC had been finished and all the good spots for splendid pediments were already taken. They had to shoehorn him in somewhere, though, so he's round the back of King William Block - you have to go right into the courtyard and look back on yourself to find it.

It was created in 1812 by Benjamin West from his 1807 painting The Immortality of Nelson, held by the National Maritime Museum. Coade Stone and many coade-connoisseurs reckon it's the finest example of sculptures in the material. West, by the way, is most famous for his painting The Death of Nelson (he specialised in the heroic demises of famous naval leaders it appears; he also depicted General Wolfe's last moments) in the Maritime museum and of course he was responsible for the giant piece above the altar in the Naval College Chapel, but in the actual execution of the pediment, he worked with Joseph Panzetta, who worked for the Coades for 26 years. It took the pair of them three years to create and West got paid a thousand pounds for his design - considerably more per foot than Sir James Thornhill got for the Painted Hall. That's Inflation, I guess. The Coade factory received £2,584, but I doubt Panzetta saw too much of it.

The main figures are of Britannia, complete with trident and helmet, receiving Nelson's body from Neptune. On either side various creatures and godlets, maritime and otherwise, writhe from their Coade-stone bases. It's all very symbolic, though I'm not sure of much other than the obvious Sea-god- Britain-ruling-the-waves-dead-hero stuff. Somewhere I've seen a little key; a line drawing of all the figures with explanations of their meanings, but I can't for the life of me remember where.

Horses, spare cannons and balls, what looks like a sinking ship (though it could be some kind of fortress - it's not the most clearly defined bit) and tablets picking out highlights from Nelsons career all jostle each other for space. I particularly like the three maidens holding Brittania's coat and Union (Jack, presumably, since it's maritime) flagged shield while she's got her hands full.

The best way to view the pediment is from just below the lamp post in King William Court, but the most romantic way to see it is from the window of the little side-annex off the Painted Hall, dedicated to Nelson. It's usually shut unless you go on a guided tour, but don't forget to have a peek out of the window if you take an official walk.

Technology: Oh, How We Love It...

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 02 May 2008 12:39:00 +0000

Hi, folks: Phantom Webmaster here. The Phantom's been having all sorts of fun and games with Blogger in the last few days, and apologises for same; we hope we have now tracked it down (well, something seems to have started working again, anyhow). Normal service should be resumed shortly.

Atlantic Worlds

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Fri, 02 May 2008 07:20:00 +0000

National Maritime Museum

Since I STILL can't upload any pics (apologies to everyone who's sent me some absolutely amazing ones) and, given the, ahem, changeable, weather just now I thought I'd take a peek at an indoor thing to do this weekend.

Atlantic Worlds was, I am sure, advertised when it opened last year, but not round here. I eventually saw a poster at Bank tube station, and it's been a sort of periphery in my mind as a vague something to check out but the Maritime Museum often forget in their flurry to get tourists that some of them will come from locally. I see precious little advertising aimed at us.

Which is why it's taken me about 6 months to get round to checking it out. It is, in case you haven't really heard of it either, a major new gallery at the museum which, as the name suggests, deals with the Atlantic Ocean and Man's involvement with it. It's at the back of the museum on the first floor and it has two entrances. I'd recommend the left one as you come in - I'm a chronological kinda Phantom - get your ticket then take the left-hand fork, make your way past the rubbish water tank with floating things in it on your left and the gilded barge on your right (which, I noticed yesterday, no one's allowed to photograph) and go up the back stairs in front of you.

What I like most about this exhibit is that it's not interactive. There is nothing to press, no annoying flaps to lift, no obvious questions aimed at schoolchildren (or if there are, they're well-disguised.) This is a grown up gallery for grown up people, rather than always aiming at the lowest common denominator. It's sophisticated in its design and lighting, and follows a narrative, and though I could have taken a few more exhibits from out of their gigantic stores - space is all very well and good, but I've always felt that the Maritime Museum has a bit too much of it - it's a story generally well-told.

It starts out with the exploration and colonisation by Europeans of Africa and the New World - the first thing you see is a fab map of North America, a good half of which consists of unknown territory and California is depicted as an island. It follows into the trade that was brought between the various continents and the exploitation of the ocean itself (including one solitary case dealing with our fishing heritage - a woeful gap in the museum's collection - whaling gets more attention) and a slightly unnecessary large glass case with examples of the most common goods traded.

The major part of the exhibition deals with slavery (presumably something to do with the anniversary of the abolition last year) and the campaign against it. It's nicely done, only a tiny bit sensationalist - presumably the guillotine is to entertain the schoolchildren who have nothing to press - and not quite as worthy as it might have been.

The final part (or first, if you choose to be perverse and start at the other end...) is to do with the various wars and conflicts surrounding the Atlantic - cue General Wolfe & Co.

Actually, I've just read the leaflet, and apparently there are interactive installations - at either end of the gallery.I am happy to say I missed them.

This is a classy exhibit. It looks great, and there are some fascinating items. Ultimately there isn't really enough stuff there for my liking, but I'm an old-fashioned Phantom who loves clutter - point me at The Petrie Museum or Sir John Soane's house and I'm a happy spectre - and as galleries go this is 21st Century Adult.

May Morris Morning

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Thu, 01 May 2008 15:24:00 +0000

Greenwich Morris Men have sent me a link to photos of their May Dawn Dance on the heath this morning. While we were all tucked up in our beds, these stout fellows were jingling bells, bashing sticks and waving hankies to see-in May Day in the traditional fashion.

Ged tells me it was cold but not actually raining at the time and the sunrise was glorious. Apparently the dance straddles the sunrise by about 15 minutes each side. Dawn was at 5.32 this morning - so these guys started around 5.17am. I hope they all had a nice cup 'a tea at the 'ut afterwards.

I don't know - it makes me feel all rustic. A little bit of the countryside in London. I have no idea what the donkeys made of it...

The Perils and Pitfalls of Handkerchiefs

noreply@blogger.com (The Greenwich Phantom) — Thu, 01 May 2008 07:50:00 +0000

Being the First of May, it seems almost obligatory to go back to a time when May Day was a big deal. There was virtually nothing Henry VIII liked better than going a-Maying. Although it really only seemed to consist of going for a walk with whichever queen was in vogue at the time (and half the court, of course), collecting some of the scented May flowers from the hedgerows and coming back, Henry used it as an excuse for yet another Royal kneesup.

He'd get himself all togged-up with new clothes (tradionally new linen shirts were the thing to have on May Day, though I suspect he'd have gone the whole hog, being king, and got hmself a new doublet, hose and codpiece ensemble while he was about it) gather his nobles together and set out for Shooters Hill or some other bit of countryside near Greenwich Palace. Often there would be little 'surprises' set up for him along the way - he'd be presented with flowers by maidens or met by a bunch of archers dressed in green, for example. Once he was even introduced to 'Robyn Hood.' Oh, how they laughed...

It was a jolly occasion - not being Christian in any way, it owed more to pagan traditions than most holidays - and it's always been associated with fecundity (think Maypoles...) And what better than to combine a favourite holiday with a dose of his favourite sport, which also employed a giant phallic symbol? Henry jousted every day he possibly could, and May Day was a good excuse for a new suit of armour and a tournament in the Greenwich Tiltyards.

Katherine of Aragon was, of course, the king's Queen of the May for many of those happy festivals, but things started to get darker when he ousted her for Anne Boleyn. The newly-installed queen had three heady years of excess before Henry realised he wasn't going to get a male heir out of Anne either.

She and Henry might have pretty much literally danced on Katherine of Aragon's grave at her death in January 1536 (they wore yellow and declared it a day of joy) but she knew she'd be up to her own neck in trouble if the child she was carrying wasn't a boy. It was. Unfortunately for Anne it was also dead. In some horrible irony she miscarried the day of Katherine of Aragon's funeral. Things were getting edgy.

Henry was in a right mood for weeks. He moved-in his latest mistress (Jane Seymour) and started looking for excuses to get rid of Anne. With Katherine dead, it would be most convenient if Anne died too - none of that nasty divorce business. So it was mighty handy when, as Tradition tells us, Anne dropped her hanky in front of Sir Henry Norris in Greenwich Park on May Day 1536. It wasn't the first time she'd been a butter-fingers with that handkerchief - she'd already done it once, several years earlier, in front of Norris at his family gaff in Yattendon in Berskire.

This was clearly a come-on if ever the King had seen one. Anne was obviously having an affair with the Royal Steward. Henry rode off in a huff, leaving the Queen just standing there.

The next day she was arrested for adultery and carted off to the Tower. Just in case there was any doubt, the King's special commission miraculously also discovered no fewer than five other men that the queen had been supposedly dropping her hankies for. One of them was Mark Smeaton, a local musician (about whom more on another day.) This poor sod was dragged up before the King's 'investigators' and after some intense 'interrogation' (read 'torture') 'confessed' to the whole kaboodle, and named several other blokes the queen had been secretly hanky-pankying with, including her own brother. They weren't allowed to be tortured, being gentlemen, so they went straight to the executioner's axe. Smeaton, a mere commoner, was hanged.

On the 19th May, Anne herself was beheaded. Henry didn't stick around to watch - he waited under an old oak in Greenwich Park for the gun-signal which would tell him the deed was done - though of course out of respect, he didn't actually marry Jane Seymour until the following day.

History doesn't tell us whether the embroidered hanky used to bind Anne's eyes at her execution was the same one she dropped in Greenwich Park, but I feel I should warn the morris dancers who will no doubt be dancing this weekend for modern May Day celebrations to be careful. Handkerchiefs are clearly lethal in the wrong hands.

I will, of course be looking into the antics of our own Greenwich Morris Men,who seductively promised me a "dawn dance at the donkey rides" this morning on their website, but neglected to say what time it was so I could attend (yes, I know - dawn - but for any time before 8.00am I want specifics...) on another day.

Just as an aside, as I was researching this post, I came across something that made me realise there really is a website for everything out there. I don't necessarily recommend the Sneeze Fetish Forum as a place to spend quality time with your family, but I guess it gives hope to all those hayfever sufferers who hate this time of year - yes, guys, there are people who acutally get turned on by your wheezing...