Cineworld.

It would seem that the block of businesses that house the large Cineworld Bexleyheath cinema and a number of other services are very likely to be closed and demolished in the future. Bexley Council have announced that "This is a smaller town centre site that is located at the prominent junction of Arnsburg Way and Broadway. It is occupied by a large ‘big box’ cinema development as well as other leisure uses, and a car park sits at the eastern end of the site. Whilst these uses make a significant contribution to the town centre’s leisure offer, the building itself is dated and relates awkwardly to the street with blank façades. Redevelopment of this site creates the opportunity for a residential-led mixed use development in Bexleyheath Town Centre that is within walking distance to Bexleyheath bus hub and in one of the best-connected areas of the borough, helping to draw the town centre eastwards along Broadway towards the Civic Offices, creating a more positive east-west connection and furthering the improvements made by the neighbouring Eastside Quarter development". In other words, Bexley Council are looking to remove yet another public leisure service to replace it with yet more cramped, expensive and over developed flats which will generate them more council tax. Aviva Life & Pensions UK Limited currently owns a substantial lease on the site since 1998, with 223 years remaining. The company pays only a peppercorn rent, meaning the council receives little financial benefit from the property. In mid-2024, Aviva made an offer to purchase the freehold, which the council has now accepted. The site has been earmarked in Bexley’s Local Plan as suitable for redevelopment. The loss of the cinema plus the associated bingo hall and restaurants will mean a substantial reduction of the leisure facilities in the centre of the borough. The cinema has been operating on the site since 1998, but it it currently unclear how much longer this will remain. Comments to me at hugh.neal@gmail.com.

News broke on Friday afternoon that former KGB double agent and undercover MI6 spy Oleg Gordievsky had died aged 86 from natural causes. He spent most of his time once evacuated from the then Soviet Union living anonymously in Godalming in Surrey, but for a short period after his defection to the UK, he lived in a semi detached house in Ashen Drive, on the Crayford / Dartford border. You can read more about him by clicking here. 

Thanks to regular reader and occasional contributor Gary, he reminded me that last Tuesday was the 45th anniversary of the sinking of the Radio Caroline ship, The Mi Amigo. You can read  more about the sinking by clicking here. The rescue of the Mi Amigo crew by the RNLI was so hazardous that the coxswain of the lifeboat was awarded the RNLI's highest honour. The story of the sinking, and the subsequent heroic rescue was told by one of those involved - the DJ Stevie Gordon, who related his memories to The Pirate Radio Hall of Fame. Stevie writes:- "During my time on board Radio Caroline, we worked around the clock in shifts. But little did I realise what was in store for me that March afternoon in 1980 as I headed for my cabin and my usual siesta. “Every man has his 15 minutes of fame” and mine were soon to begin. “You'd better get up, Stevie. We're off the anchor”. Tom Anderson didn't seem unduly worried and indeed our ship, the Mi Amigo, had lost its anchor before and been adrift on several occasions. Not when I was on board though! I was up in a flash and hurried upstairs to find out what was happening. There was a heavy sea but we were used to that and the radio station was broadcasting normally. However my first glance outside showed me that we were not at our usual location. There should have been seven or eight crew on board. The make-up tended to be three or four English DJs, two Dutchmen who read the news and presented a live breakfast show for the daytime service aimed at Holland and Belgium, a transmitter engineer, a cook and occasionally a sailor. However, due to a mix up, although all those who were due shore leave had been taken off, there was only one replacement. Hans Verlaan was on his first tour of duty and had only arrived a few hours earlier. That left just us three Brits who between us knew the ship inside out, and the ship's canary. Looking back, I can see that, with the usual complement, lives could very easily have been lost but at that early stage none of us had any idea how the affair would end. “We'd better get the emergency anchor down!” Tom Anderson again and, yes, he knew how to do it. He had been on board the previous time it was needed. There seemed to be no immediate danger so I told Tom I would, as a courtesy, notify the coastguard but not until the ship was once again at anchor. He made his way forward to the bows and my other English colleague, Nick Richards, went downstairs to see if there was any water in the bilges. There wasn't, but that was the only good news! Tom Anderson was in trouble. The reserve chain was not wound around a drum or stored in a locker but lay in an untidy heap in the forepeak. The anchor itself was mounted above the chain on a slide and secured in place by rope binding. Using a large knife Tom had slashed through the ropes but, instead of sliding into the sea, the anchor sat stubbornly fast on the slide. Watching from the bridge, that was the first time I became aware that this time things might not go as smoothly as before. I could see Tom struggling to get the anchor free and I knew just how easily he could get swept overboard with it. The weather was steadily deteriorating but, just for a moment, there seemed to be a chance. Slowly at first, the reserve anchor was beginning to move. Tom had time to get clear. There was a rush of the chain, the anchor went down and the ship was no longer adrift. Time to notify HM Coastguard. My call was immediately answered and, although at first the fact that we had moved was not known, our new position over a sandbank close to a busy shipping lane was soon confirmed. Then an unexpected question! “We've got a lifeboat out” the coastguard told me. “Do you want to come off?” Surprised, I gave him an assurance that all was well. The ship was back on anchor, I reported, and there was no need for anybody to leave. That information was accepted but I was again told that there was a lifeboat standing by in the area. The six hours since I had been called from my bunk had disappeared. The time was now 9pm, low water, and the Mi Amigo sat ever so gently down on the seabed. For the first time in nearly three days the ship was lying quietly, there was still no water in the bilges, and there was time for a cup of tea. We could now see the lifeboat about a mile away at the edge of of the sandbank and, although we didn't yet have any idea how quickly our situation would change, we would soon be very grateful that it was there. The tide turned, the sea began to rise and once again there was movement in the ship. But what on earth was that awful banging? As the ship rose and fell with the tide, it was banging loudly on something which caused a series of shudders right through the vessel. (Probably what was left of the first chain was trapped between the hull and the seabed.) “There's water in the bilges. We'll need the pump running”. Nick Richards was as confident with the engine room as Tom had been with the anchor. Well, let's hope everything goes alright this time, as well. But the water continued to force its way in to the bottom of the ship. Nick had three very fast pumps running and the water was soon over the bilge plates, which meant the ship had taken in about two feet of water stem to stern. Watching from my station on the bridge I saw Nick making his way along the deck towards the engine room door suddenly waist deep in a breaking wave. I knew then that we would have to abandon ship. Neither of my English colleagues disagreed with my decision but, before we left, the radio station had to be closed down. None of us thought that the ship might be lost forever. We were more concerned about what could happen to the radio equipment if it got wet. Especially if it was still turned on! We were leaving because that was the sensible thing to do. Tom and I made our way to the studio, and Nick went to the transmitter hold to switch off there. We left our new Dutchman in the mess room out of his depth in every way. In a brief final message I told our listeners what had happened and why we were leaving the ship “... hoping that the pumps can take it” added Tom. And my final words: “from all of us for the moment, goodbye and God bless.“And then the four of us were upstairs at the door opening out onto the deck. The time to go had arrived. However there seemed to be no chance of the lifeboat coming alongside. The sea was much too rough. As the Mi Amigo rose on a wave, the lifeboat seemed to disappear in an adjacent trough, and then vice versa. Every time he tried to approach us only the extraordinary skill of the coxswain prevented his lifeboat from smashing into the Mi Amigo. A first attempt to leave from the stern was quickly found to be impossible. If we were to get off, it had to the usual way over the side! Coxswain Charlie Bowry brought his lifeboat up as close as he dared. For a brief moment the two ships stood quietly side by side and Tom and I bundled Hans Verlaan into the arms of the waiting rescuers. After his shaky start in the business, Ton Lathouwers (these days he prefers his given name) went on to become president of Sky Radio and a billionaire! However moments after we had passed him over to the lifeboat the raging sea had pushed the two ships one hundred yards apart. Nobody else was getting off just yet. We looked at each other and then, with a guilty start, Nick asked “What about Wilson?” The ship's canary was named after an earlier Prime Minister and we couldn't just leave him to his fate. Nick flew back into the mess room to get him. Then, once again, the lifeboat managed to close in but this time Wilson in his cage was first across followed immediately afterwards by Nick Richards. That left Tom and myself, and the weather was still getting worse. Quite a few minutes passed before the lifeboat managed to fight its way in and then there it was and it looked good! We couldn't both go. In case of an accident, one of us had to remain behind. Everything happened very quickly! The lifeboat was coming alongside. Tom and I turned to look at each other. “Go on then!” I told him and helped him on his way. No heroics on my part. It just seemed the thing to do. After all, I was the senior announcer even if he had worked for Caroline longer than I. But now I was alone. Too late to wonder if I had done the right thing. I was standing on the top of the deck rail, hanging on for dear life to a stay attached to the broadcasting mast. And there I remained until finally the lifeboat managed one last time to struggle alongside. Charlie Bowry had of course been making numerous attempts, but the storm was too severe and kept pushing him away. But, some twenty minutes after Tom had been snatched to safety, there they were again. Still grasping the stay, I reached out my other arm. Strong hands clamped around it like a vice. I was safe, and my few minutes of fame generated by the attention of the world's press and other media were about to begin". Footnote: daylight revealed that the Mi Amigo had sunk on the edge of a sandbank but part of the antenna was still above water. RNLI Coxswain Charlie Bowry received the RNLI's highest award for bravery for the rescue. Many at the time thought that this was the end for Radio Caroline, but this proved to be very far from the truth. The next chapter in Caroline's history was about to begin.

The successor ship to the Mi Amigo was the MV Ross Revenge, which is still the flagship of Radio Caroline to this day. The ship needs major maintenance as you can read in the following announcement:- "The charity established to raise funds to secure the future of the Ross Revenge has been given the go-ahead by the National Lottery Heritage Fund to develop its plans to dry dock the ship with the aim of carrying out vital maintenance and repairs. This is a big step forward, and comes as Ross Revenge (Home of Radio Caroline) announces that its own fund raising now totals £340,000, a remarkable achievement and thanks in great part to the station’s dedicated supporters. Without demonstrating an ability to raise significant money itself, the much-needed support from the Lottery would be unlikely. However, after an initial approach to the Lottery last month, it has replied with an encouraging response, making it clear it is interested to hear more about the charity’s proposals. Lawrie Hallett, one of the charity’s patrons, prepared and submitted what is called an "Expression of Interest" document with outline proposal. Having considered this, Lottery officials have responded stating that it "can now offer some points to consider as you develop the application". Make no mistake: there is still a lot of hard work to do before the Lottery will release money as the project moves forward. It needs to be convinced that the aims and ambitions for the Ross Revenge are viable and worth investing in. If the charity is successful in this, the Lottery is likely to release money in stages, in amounts up to £250,000. In the meantime, the charity must continue to seek donations from its own appeals, and its Trustees must now devote time to providing more detailed plans, including costings for towage and dry-docking and for the repair and restoration work that the 1,000-ton Ross Revenge will need. Any investment by the Lottery will come with conditions attached. It must be understood that it will not fund work simply to repair the Ross Revenge. Applications must take into account the Lottery’s “investment principles”, and these include demonstrating the project has taken into account sustainability, the environment and the climate crisis. In addition, the charity must show that the restoration of the Ross Revenge is of benefit for future generations and has educational and skills benefits. All of which will present the Trustees and Patrons of Ross Revenge (Home of Radio Caroline) with many challenges, but considerations are already underway with developing the forepeak of the Ross Revenge into an educational and exhibition area, and an opportunity to reflect on the ship’s role as both deep-sea fishing trawler and radio ship".

The end video this week is a short documentary on the origins and operation of the Bexleyheath Night Market. Comments and feedback to me as always at hugh.neal@gmail.com.