The Royal Alfred.

It is nice to be able to report some positive and encouraging news about Erith for once. As I have written in the past, I am opposed to companies and property developers selling off profitable, viable community pubs to be converted into housing, and I still strongly of this view. What I am not against is developers buying up "no hope" pubs that are laying semi derelict and converting them into new housing. I have found out in the last few days that the former Royal Alfred pub, which has stood empty and apparently unloved in Manor Road, since it closed its' doors back in 2008 is shortly about to get a much needed makeover and major refurbishment. The downstairs bar area will be converted into a class A1 shop, the the upper floors will be converted into accommodation in the form of five one bedroomed apartments and two double bedroomed apartments. As you can see both above and below, the transformation of the pub from what it is now, to what the architect intends is pretty dramatic and impressive. The building has been boarded up and unused since it closed, and I reckon with some large injection of money and construction skill, it could be turned into a landmark building for the East side of Erith. Click on the photo above, or the two drawings below for a larger version. 

Normally the Maggot Sandwich gets written over the course of the preceding week; little bits get done in my lunch break at work, or in the evenings when I am at home. Back when I started the blog in 2006, I used to sit down on a Sunday afternoon and write the whole thing in one sitting. In those days it was much shorter and far less elaborate. This week I am almost back to the old method of compiling the update, as Christmas week has been very busy, and I have struggled very hard to find the time to sit down and bash out some prose. My apologies if as a result this weeks' update is not up to the normal standard; it has been a bit of a "rush job".

I had a conversation on Friday afternoon with one of the assistant managers in Morrison's in Erith; I was very surprised to discover that their most popular food item sold in the period between Christmas and the New Year is sliced bread and bread rolls. It was explained to me that many people have leftover turkey, beef and gammon from their Christmas meal, and rather than eat anything very elaborate, they buy bread in order to turn the leftovers into sandwiches. I suppose that it makes sense, though it had never occurred to me before. I do know that the bakery in Northumberland Heath has been working overtime - it bakes bread under contract for a number of retailers, including Marks and Spencer, so maybe the Christmas / New Year sandwich tradition is something common to the wider country, and not just the local area.

I am trying to discover more about a very colourful and larger than life character who lived in Erith during Victorian times; his name was Robert Austen, but he was more popularly known as "Robert the Devil" - he was an exhibitionist and showman, and I understand he had a strong man act that sometimes toured around North Kent and beyond. He had a couple of party tricks. He often drank in the pubs on Erith river front, and was notorious for betting other drinkers a pint of ale if he could swim across the River Thames from Erith to Coldharbour Point in Havering, Essex and back - which he invariably did. As I have previously written, the currents and undertow in and around Anchor Bay make this one of the most lethal stretches of the Thames for swimmers, and why most people who enter the river end up getting fished out by the Police or RNLI as corpses. It would appear that Robert Austen was a very strong and confident swimmer who could repeatedly challenge this. On top of swimming the river, Austen would permit a man to break a granite kerbstone over his chest with a sledge hammer - for the price of a gallon of beer! More information if you have it please. 

Following my open question last week as to when the photograph of the trolley bus was taken outside of the Wheatley Hotel, on what is now the site of the hideous fish sculpture, I have had the following message from Richard Spink, who has strong memories of the 698 trolley bus service:- "The 698 trolley bus was withdrawn in 1959. It used to run from Woolwich along Plumstead High Street and down to Abbey Wood Village then on to Erith, North Heath and Bexleyheath. I remember catching it from the bus stop at the bottom of Wickham Lane when my parents were visiting Mum's Sister in Gravesend. We would get the train from Abbey Wood. I seem to remember it only going as far as Abbey Wood where it would turn round and come back to Woolwich again. Perhaps by then, the route to Bexleyheath had already been closed. The route was eventually replaced by the 229 bus service. We also had the 696 trolley bus which ran from Woolwich all the way to Dartford and was supposed to be the longest in the country. This was replaced by the No.96 bus. I believe your picture must date from the later half of the 1950's going by the clothes worn by the people at the crossing. Also, the tram lines have been removed which must have happened after the war. The ones in Woolwich Market Square were still there in the 1980's along with the original cobbled road surface. Shame it never had a preservation order. While looking for information on this, I came across this website. Looking at the pictures on the corner of Wickham Lane really brought back some memories as I lived in Wickham Lane as a child and remember the shops in the background of the pictures. I remember the trolley bus as well. The Off Licence on the corner of Camrose Street was where I used to go and try and buy bottles of cider aged about 16 and try and convince the shopkeeper I was older. The trouble was that he had known me from a small child (my Dad used to take me in there when he was buying his cigarettes) and knew exactly how old I was." Thanks Richard - I am sure many readers will find your recollections fascinating. Local historic transport links continue below.

Local resident Dana Whiffen wrote the following piece on the restoration of a number of classic GS buses from the early 1950's, which is being carried out at the Brooklands Motor Museum; the buses have a local link which will be come clear shortly. "In 1952 London Transport ordered 84 of these wonderful 26 seater single decker buses (see the photo above - click for a larger view) from GUY to be run on London Transport Country routes. The distinctive front with the 'Indian Head' motor buses started coming into service in October 1953 with the rest of the order being completed by January the following year. Remarkably today there are a total 30 of these buses preserved although only 12 of these are actually on the road, with three of these standing together at Brooklands for this anniversary celebration in October 2013. This bus ran in various rural counties around London including Kent where they ran on routes from Northfleet Garage between 1954-1969 covering routes towards Gravesend and Dartford, from 1953-1966 from Dunton Green Garage covering routes for Orpington, Westerham and Sevenoaks, from Swanley Garage between 1955-1959 covering Farningham, from Chelsham Garage between 1953-1962 covering routes for Edenbridge, Oxted and Tatsfield. The link to Erith was that GS50 was based at AbbeyWood Bus Garage  for severeral years after being removed from normal service in the late sixties; this bus was often seen around the area taking drivers to skid training at the Chiswick driver education centre, often picking up staff from Bexleyheath, Sidcup and Plumstead garages".

The weather over the last couple of weeks has been notoriously atrocious. Much has already been written about the subject, and I don't want to repeat what has already been said. One thing that it has highlighted is something I have mentioned in the past, but I feel that needs to be restated. People who put their feet on the seats on public transport is something that winds me up no end; not only is it antisocial, but it is extremely unhygienic. Even if the culprit has not directly stood in a dog turd, the harmful bacteria from excrement is washed all over every pavement when it rains and everybody gets fecal bacteria on their footwear, whether they know it or not. It is only after a period of bright sunshine that the Ultra Violet light from the sun kills the micro organisms, but for much of the time in winter the footpaths and streets of Britain are literally awash with harmful bacteria, mainly from dog droppings. When someone puts their feet onto a bus or train seat, they transfer some of this bacteria onto the fabric of the seat, where it can live quite happily for several days. In that time, multiple bottoms will have sat on the invisible bacteria colony, transferring some of them for another ride on an unwitting hosts' clothes. The person has only to touch the invisibly infected area to pass harmful bugs onto their hands, and from there, virtually anywhere. This is one of the main reasons that when you visit a hospital or nursing care home, you are strongly encouraged to use antibacterial hand gel, which is normally supplied in a dispenser by the entrance. A good wash with soap and hot water will do pretty much the same, if like me you are sensitive to the gel. I have been told by a couple of medical professionals that about a third of infections blamed on MRSA in hospitals and nursing homes are actually caused by canine fecal bacteria transferred from visitors' clothing. Think on this next time you see someone putting their feet on a seat. 

South Eastern Trains have run a shambolic service over the holiday period; some of it was their fault, some not. The terrible high winds and deluge of rain has certainly not helped matters. On Friday, a normal working day for many people, South Eastern initially said that no trains would be running until around midday. As lunchtime approached, this was changed to state that it would be unlikely that trains would be running at all, due to "Major disruption". The problems would appear to be directly related to the way that the Dartford to London Bridge, Cannon Street and Charing Cross via Greenwich railway line was originally created; for much of its' length it runs through a series of cuttings of varying depths. These cuttings are lined by trees and bushes, which just out of the steep earthen banks. As soon as any great storm happens, mud gets washed from the banks, weakening the tree and bush roots' hold in the ground. Combining this with the accompanying extremely high wind speeds, and the railway tracks get blocked by fallen trees and uprooted bushes. I know that there have been some half - hearted attempts to permanently remove the foliage alongside the track in the past, but this has not really worked. The trouble is that South Eastern Trains blame Railtrack, who run and operate the infrastructure. Nobody wants to take responsibility for anything - they just point fingers at each other. This is one instance when an overall umbrella organisation that would be responsible for the railway from end to end would be preferable. It's not going to happen, as there are too many vested interests - and too many fingers in the pie. The commuter comes very much at the bottom of the list of priorities - as in South East London / North Kent there is no alternative to using the train to get into London on a daily basis.  Commuters cannot "vote with their feet" as is the case in some other parts of the country - and the railway companies know it. 

I came across the advert above in an old map of Erith that I have had for absolutely ages. It was old when I was given it. Hedley Mitchell was the largest and by far the most important shop in the old Victorian Erith town centre. It was the towns' department store, and as large and grand as Hides in Bexleyheath. Many older local residents recall Hedley Mitchell with great affection. The store had a very high reputation for formal service. It was the first building to be demolished when work began to create the new (and subsequently much hated) brutalist concrete shopping centre in 1966. In fact the first act of demolition was carried out by the then Deputy Mayor, Councillor Mrs M Barron, ceremoniously smashed the window of Hedley Mitchell's store to mark the commencement of the demolition of Erith Town Centre to make way for redevelopment. As a consequence, all the existing Victorian buildings were lost. With hindsight, this was a terrible mistake - the existing town centre should have been sympathetically restored. I gather that this was considered, but would have cost too much money; instead they built a relatively cheap but undeniably ugly replacement out of bare concrete. I don't know anyone who had a good word to say about it. Consequently a lot of businesses upped sticks and moved to Bexleyheath or Northumberland Heath, and it is only now, nearly fifty years later that much of the social and economic damage is being put right. The current Erith Riverside Shopping Centre is actually a very clever redesign of the much hated sixties structure, rather than a ground up new build, but it has been done with taste and sensitivity - something entirely missing in the original, which was a smelly and soulless concrete monstrosity, detested by all.

I feel that 2014 will see the end of BlackBerry; the phone handset maker has lost its' way and is now haemorrhaging cash in an unprecedented way. This week the company announced losses that in practical terms amount to $4.4 billion. There is no way that they can keep this up for very long. The basic problem is that RIM (Research In Motion) - the old name for BlackBerry came up with a very clever idea for a very secure, encrypted smart phone infrastructure, which was ideal for business. This was all well and good a few years ago, but the company has sat on its' laurels, and not really gone anywhere since. Nowadays modern smart phones are powerful enough to do in software what that BlackBerry does in dedicated hardware, and the whole BlackBerry advantage has now gone. They have nowhere technologically left to go, and have not brought in any innovation. They will either go under, or be bought out by a competitor.

2014 will mark the sad 100th anniversary if the start of the First World War. Erith had a major contribution to this pointless and wasteful conflict; much of the ammunition and small arms used by the allies were manufactured in Erith and Crayford at the factories of Vickers. It is unfortunate to say that the area profited greatly from the Great War; it is debated that the relatively short lived tram system would have shut down earlier, had it not been for the influx of trade due to the large number of workers using it to travel to and from the arms factories. This week, English Heritage announced that they had finally identified a German WW1 era submarine that has been laid up on the Kentish coast for almost a century. Marine archaeologists have conducted research into the wreck of the submarine, which is located on a small creek off the River Medway - a place called Humble Bee Creek, near to the Isle of Grain. It is visible at low tide, and it is possible to visit, though one would need to use caution, as well as a good pair of wellies! The boat (only submarines are referred to as boats, all other navy vessels are ships) was originally called UB-122, and was commanded by Oberleutnant zue see Alexander Magnus, and was formally surrendered at the end of WW1, where it was towed by the Royal Navy to Halling in Kent, where the submarines' diesel engines were removed and installed in a local cement works. The rest of the vessel was then towed further downriver, towards a yard where it was to be further broken up. During the towing process, the lines connecting the submarine to the tug parted, and the submarine went adrift, eventually coming to rest at the aforementioned Humble Bee Creek, where it remains to this day. The submarine was one of the most advanced of its' day - a type UBIII coastal patrol vessel which was launched in February 1918 from a shipyard in Bremen. It carried a crew of 34 sailors and a total of ten torpedoes, and had a cruising range of just under nine thousand miles. Nowadays it is just a rusting skeleton, but part of the regions' maritime heritage.

The ending video this week is something special; it is a web only mini episode of "Sherlock". It is a prequel to the start of series three, which begins on New Year's Day. It shows what Sherlock was up to in the two years between him faking his death and then re - appearing in London. When you watch it, please don't let the fact that Germany does not use the jury system for deciding court cases put you off - as the foreman says, the case was held under exceptional circumstances. It provides a fascinating preview for the new series, which promises to have huge viewing figures. See what you think below, and feel free to leave a comment, or Email me directly to hugh.neal@gmail.com. 

The ode to Old Erith.

The photo above shows a guide dog puppy and Police officer at the launch of Hound Watch, which took place at the Pets at Home store on the Tower Retail Park in Crayford last Friday. The photo was taken by Dana Whiffen. You can read more about the Hound Watch project by clicking here.

Earlier in the week, I was on the 99 bus, heading for Bexleyheath, for lunch at the incomparably excellent Robin Hood and Little John pub in Lion Road. Nowadays I don’t use the local buses nearly as much as I did when my Dad was still alive – I used to visit him in his nursing home daily, which involved multiple bus journeys. Nowadays I only take the bus a couple of times a week; In a way I am glad – I used to regularly encounter various breeds of undesirables, which whilst sometimes annoying or distressing, did make for entertaining writing. Over the last couple of months I have had a couple of readers comment that I don’t seem to recount the kind of public transport related incidents that I used to. Well that is about to change. I was sitting on the lower deck of the 99, minding my own business, when a couple of women got on; they were chatting animatedly, and sat directly in front of me. After a few moments I began to notice an incredibly powerful stench of filth and stale urine wafting from the direction of one of the two ladies in front of me. She appeared to be in her early sixties and was shabbily dressed, but clearly not a homeless person. She looked like she had been wearing the same clothes for literally months. What was clear was that she was not obviously mentally ill (she was engaged in a detailed conversation with her companion) but she had obviously not washed in a very long time indeed, probably several months. Her fellow traveller seemed oblivious to all of this, and they continued their conversation whilst my eyes began to water with the incredibly noxious pong. Why someone would let themselves get into such a condition is way beyond me. I was just grateful to make a swift exit when the bus arrived in Bexleyheath – never has the diesel exhaust fumes of the bus halt been as welcomed as it was on this journey.

If you are a person who partakes of the forthcoming yuletide festivities, I would like to take this opportunity to wish you a Happy Christmas. As I have written in previous years, I don’t send Christmas cards for a number of reasons. Primarily I think that the sending of cards nowadays has about as much relevance as the carrier pigeon – in Victorian times people used cards as a way of catching up with far flung friends and relatives during the festive season – something that is no longer relevant with instant worldwide communication and social media. Also, the manufacture and transportation of billions of cards worldwide is a huge waste of natural resources – they get looked at for a moment, then stuck on a table or shelf for a couple of weeks, then they are recycled, all of which uses valuable time and energy. I wonder how long it will be before the sending of physical Christmas cards becomes socially unacceptable? Your thoughts on this would be appreciated. I would also like to take the opportunity to thank all of the people who make the Maggot Sandwich possible – not only my occasional guest contributors, but the ladies and gents who feed me information relating to local issues and concerns, who by their very nature need to be anonymous. Happy festive season to one and all. See the video at the end of this weeks' update by means of a festive commemoration.

I have had many comments about the stunning fan - made "Wholock" Doctor Who / Sherlock video mashup I featured last week; It was done by a person who is amazingly proficient in the use of various video and CGI tools. This week I have found a video which shows exactly how the video clip was put together; which to my mind only increases my admiration for the creator - it truly is a work of extreme dedication and skill - see what you think below.
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I must admit that had I both more time and a larger garden, I would love to keep chickens (though I doubt my neighbours would be as keen). The thought of fresh eggs on a regular basis is something that a lot of people would like, but for most it remains an unfulfilled aspiration. The wholesomeness of garden produced chicken eggs is now being put into question; scientists in the USA have been studying the chemical composition of chicken eggs produced in urban gardens; they have discovered that in many suburban areas, the eggs contain a relatively high quantity of lead. Chickens love to root around in the ground, looking for worms and grubs which form part of their natural diet. In so doing, they ingest soil, and this soil in many occasions contains microscopic quantities of metallic lead, and lead salts. This comes from old buried lead water pipes, industrial waste and even from decades old car exhaust fumes – although lead additives in petrol has been banned for many years, the microscopic exhaust particulates still exist in the environment, as lead is a persistent pollutant that does not biodegrade. Interestingly, chicken eggs from commercial producers do not suffer this lead pollution, as they are farmed in a controlled environment, often in the countryside and further away from any potential source of pollution. The scientific study proved that the level of lead contamination in urban eggs closely tracked the level of lead found in the local environment. There is no accepted internationally agreed standard regarding contaminant levels in chicken eggs, but the researchers did discover that in the worst cases of contamination, the garden kept hens produced eggs with lead levels of 167 parts per billion, which roughly equates to the loss of one IQ point in a growing child who regularly consumes contaminated eggs. Cooking the eggs, or incorporating them in a recipe such as a cake will do nothing to remove lead contamination, unlike bugs like salmonella, which are killed by a couple of minutes of temperatures exceeding 100 degrees Celsius.  The lead is always there; the only way to ensure that domestic chickens don’t ingest any environmental lead is to ensure that their run is filled with clean and uncontaminated earth and gravel, along with additional calcium supplements to encourage strong shell growth. It will be interesting to see if any UK or European study will be undertaken; I suspect that any results would be comparable to the American study.

Over the last four or five years, I have noticed that the number of local houses with ambitious and showy external Christmas decorations has markedly decreased. There used to be an escalating cold war between a number of home owners to see who could make the most extravagant and over the top lighting display. Now common sense (and perhaps better taste) have prevailed. Most displays nowadays are more discreet.  I think the reasons for this are multiple; the cost of electricity has increased markedly in the intervening time, and metal thefts have sky rocketed – and nothing attracts a metal thief more than electrical cable, packed to the gills as it is with high quality copper. On top of this I think that in these times of cutbacks and redundancies, people are reluctant to appear as a conspicuous consumer. On top of these factors, I think that technology has also had an influence. Modern Christmas lights are now LED rather than incandescent bulb based, and these LED lights seem to be more subtle and discreet – as well as using a hell of a lot less electricity.

The photo above shows the Wheatley Hotel, which was located on what is nowadays the hideous fish sculpture roundabout which joins Queens Road, Bexley Road, and Bronze Age Way. When I originally posted this photo, I did so in good faith; I had been sent it a couple of weeks ago by a regular reader. It transpires that the copyright of the photo is actually owned by a chap called David Bradley, who runs the Trolley Bus website http://www.trolleybus.net/ - it would appear that I have inadvertently infringed on his copyright, for which I apologise. He's agreed to let me carry on using the shot with this explanation added. I hope to be picking David's brains on local transport very soon. In the foreground of the photo is a trolley bus; hopefully a reader can identify the make and model and give us some idea of roughly when the photo was taken. It has to be after 1935, as prior to this, trams were employed. The Wheatley Hotel was, as I have previously written, a railway hotel – a combination of pub and hotel in one. A contemporary advert for the place (thanks to my Mum for uncovering this) read thus:-

Wheatley Arms Hotel

Erith       ...... (Phone ERITH 2755)

Beasleys Light and Dark Ales and Stout

Best Quality Wines and Spirits

Board Residence             Luncheons

SNACKS AT BAR

Trolley bus No.698}

 Bus               No.  99}  TO DOOR

 "                   No. 480}

Opposite Erith Railway Station

________________________

Hallam & Co ., (VICTUALLERS) LTD.

RGD. Office - "Red Barn" Barnehurst                    Phone : ERITH 3172

Last weeks’ guest writer Alan Magin has again turned up a gem. Just in time for Christmas, he’s uncovered a poem – “Ode to old Erith” which was written by Erith resident Pat Watson back in 1982.  When the poem was written, Erith was at an all – time low. The old Victorian town centre had been demolished, and the much hated late 1960’s brutalist concrete shopping centre had taken its’ place. Much of the heavy industry had moved away from the town, bringing unemployment, and none of the current investors (principally Morrison’s) had yet made an appearance. Any copyright belongs to Pat Watson  – I am reproducing it to bring the poem to a wider audience. It is not exactly Shakespeare, but it does make for entertaining and timely reading.

Ode to old Erith

It was always a shabby, funny town, when I was small:

It’s only claim to fame, I suppose, was the River,

which ebbed and flowed in muddy brown and grey regularity,

providing an ever changing picture of dreams for the eyes of the young and old,

or the idle, to dwell upon.

It was always a strange, little, sprawling town,

with nothing at all of importance to merit a place in the shape of things to come.

Here it nestled, like a favourite, comfortable, patchwork shawl, the fringes of which tapered towards the creeks of Slade Green and Crayford;

dwelling a moment at Bexley and Welling;

crossing to Bedonwell and Bostal.

Beneath the folds haphazardly tumbled Northumberland Heath, with upper and lower Belvedere here, and Barnehurst there;

in between glowing a patch or two of changing green, as the woods and parks filtered through the embroidery of stitches

that held it together with fields and ditches;

eventually sweeping around and down

past Abbey Wood marshes

and back to the river.

It was always a friendly, squat, little town,

with industry forming a warming collar

around its neck; the ribbon of water wandering by firmly held in its place,

loosely tieing a flexible knot of strength

against the fogs and mists

of all that threatened the pattern of sleeping security.

Quickly, quickly, write it down 

before those that remember have long been forgotten,

with nothing to show

and no-one to know how reshaping

and raping could possibly happen,

and why such a garment lies in tatters,

threadbare and worn, and all that matters

is sadly forlorn and desolate now,

abandoned, exhausted-

and those that permitted such devastation

have gone, long gone …

moved on.

Just for a moment indulge in nostalgia,

name a few names for memory to conjure

the magic that hustled and bustled under

the harlequin cloak, before the plunder

of planning and banning and closing

tore the patches asunder.

The Causeway of old, with convenient railings

on which you could lean to gossip, and yarn,

and gaze on a scene of rocks, and mud,

and pools of water in which you could paddle,

when the tide was out, with wagers to swim

to the other side of the river –

there was even sand

for children to dabble.

Piers and jetties, chains and things,

wet warm timbers, ropes and rings

which held the dinghies and yachts and boats

buoys and floats bobbing

when the tide was in.

The fat black barges gliding by

with ochre brown sails riding high in the water

like graceful swans;

the diligent tugs, tooting and fussy,

pushing and shoving, eternally busy.

Tramps and Cruisers and Men-O-War;

Coasters and Colliers and Steamers galore;

port and starboard, for and aft,

every conceivable waterway craft,

casting off and heaving to –

the Pilot’s Hut with the tide times on view.

Regattas and pennants and flags a –blowing,

never-endingly coming and going watermen,

merchantmen, rowing and rowing-

straining backs and muscles aquiver,

Doggett Men too-

the pride of the River.

The coal, the grain, and the flown mill;

Fraser’s Pond and Bunker’s Hill-

the Cinder Path, the Rec’. the Terries,

the Seamen’s Home; picking blackberries.

The Ritz, the Rialto, the Oxford, the Rex;

the Locomotive- Sunday School texts.

The Cobbler, the Smithie; the disinfect can;

the Sea Scouts, the Saw Mills; the School Board Man.

Frank’s Park fireworks, Callender’s Band

tightly packed in the small bandstand.

The betting slips; the Registrar;

the Library Museum; the four-ale-bar;

little boys fishing with tiddlers 

in jar. 

The ‘Rose and Crown’ and the ‘Wheatley Arms’ ;

gipsy weddings, the crossing of palms.

St. Fidelis; ‘Bob-the-Devil’ ;

running round tombstones in the

Old Church yard to ward off evil;

the wicket gates at the level crossings.

Swiftly, swiftly, paper and pen,

put down the words and

remember them ……..

Gone are the Cobbles, the alleys,

the paths, the trams, the prams,

the open air baths.

Bye-Brothers; Linwood’s the Salvation Army

on Burton’s corner every Sunday.

The gutters, the shutters, the Home-and-Colonial;

the World Stores, the Maypole, the neatly professional 

patting of butter with spatulas wooden;

kippers for tea, faggots, pease pudding.

the Fibro; Selfe’s; Penton-and-Deans;

shrimps and cockles and coffee beans.

Starkey’s, and Randal’s printing presses;

the local paper done on the spot;

gammon from Davis; the wet-fish shop.

The hub of it all was Mitchell’s Store,

the very core of the town, with personal

assistants, yards of material measured

with care, the buttons, the cottons,

the crimping of hair; second hand furniture

round the corner; three brass balls if you 

wanted to pawn a thing on two;

the Knackers’ Yard; the Late Night Final;

the Laundry; the Dairy; the Men’s Urinal.

checks of tin from the Co-op Stores;

Mence Smith’s; Dales; and pails

of manure yours for the taking;

barber’s poles; Groom’s and the smell

of baking.

It was always an honourable, vulnerable town ….

that could be the reason for knocking it down!

Tear out its character, flatten its face-

we’ll soon think of something to put in its place.

Never mind what, and never mind where …..

move it around a bit- up in the air!

Let’s have some changes- let’s have some ‘go’-

What were we putting here? Someone must know!

And so it went on, and on, and on …….

until all that we knew of Old Erith had gone

It took them some time to take it apart;

dying by stages, a work of ‘art’ you might say,

in a way –

All that was good was whittled away, and all

that was bad was left to decay

of its own accord.

I could write more but I’ve gone on too long,

progress, we know, has got to go on- but

why did it happen and where did it start?

We’re left with a town without a heart,

not better but worse than we had before!

There’s very few left who remember it now,

the new generation could not really care

about something they never would know or share.

Sadly, sadly, read it through,

the ones who recall it all-

you, and you …….

the ones who grew up with me

when I was small – born here,

and taught here, and worked here-

you know what I’m writing of-

you understand and,

if you’ve a moment or two in hand,

go down by the River …….

yes, it’s still there- and stand

and share with me dog-eared regrets

for the ‘used to be’-

of the rough little, gruff little

Erith we knew, and read to yourself

this Obituary.

…………………………………………

Written by Pat Watson

March, 1982.

Erith has for several years been plagued by youths on illegal, unlicensed motorbikes and scooters; the problem appears to be worst around the Frobisher Road and Manor Road area. The scrotes ride their illegal vehicles along the pavements, very close to pedestrians, and also weave in and out of the traffic on the road. They usually end up heading East, and onto the Slade Green Marshes where they cause a nuisance to walkers and legitimate users of the protected area. Local residents have been complaining about this behaviour, and Erith Watch have been active in working with the Police to get something done about the matter. Last Saturday the Police caught two of the offenders red handed. The Police had a van with a number of officers, and collared the scumbags  outside of the Bilton Road Industrial Estate. The general procedure the Police carry out when arresting illegal, unlicensed and uninsured riders is that their bikes or scooters are confiscated and crushed. One can only hope that this will be the case in this instance. The only thing is the offenders will probably just go out and steal another bike and carry out their anti social and criminal acts as before. I feel that it will take another death before they realise how dangerous their activities are. Back in 2006, when the 469 single decker bus still ran on a route that included Manor Road, a young scooter rider came roaring West along the road; a West bound 469 was stationary at the Frobisher Road bus stop, and an East bound 469 bus was coming the other way; rather than waiting for the Eastbound bus to pass, the young rider raced for the gap; he was crushed between the two buses. The ambulance crew were able to stabilise him for long enough to get him to hospital, and his family to get to his bedside to say goodbye. I can see this terrible state of affairs happening again unless the illegal riders do something drastic about their behaviour.

Earlier in the week I received the following message:- "As undoubtedly one of your farthest-flung readers (long-time resident of Tokyo but born and brought up in DA8), I just wanted to add my support for retaining the Maggot Sandwich name. I stumbled upon your excellent blog five or so years ago due I think to the distinctive name and look forward to reading your blog and catching up on Erith news every Monday morning here in Japan". Thanks to Stephen, and please be assured, as I wrote last week, after the massive positive feedback, the Maggot Sandwich name is definitely here to stay.

As correctly predicted by the Maggot Sandwich last month, the Culture and Communications Minister Ed Vaizey has kicked the whole DAB radio switchover project into the long grass. He was speaking at the “Go Digital” conference last week that had been hailed as the “D-Day” for the phasing out of analogue FM and AM radio in the UK. The conference was organised by several of the largest companies who have an interest in digital radio. Ed Vaizey set no new date for a digital switchover, or a threshold of uptake of DAB. Several stations that have historically broadcast nationwide on DAB have now reduced their coverage to London only – this includes Jazz FM and Absolute Radio’s classic rock and 1960’s stations, which can now only be heard on DAB in and around London. The reason for this is simple. Cost and lack of listeners. A UK wide DAB channel costs £1.2 million a year, and that is before a single programme is broadcast – and not forgetting that DAB reception is patchy at best, with large black spots peppered all over the country. The cost of improving DAB coverage to around 97% of the UK landmass is estimated to be somewhere between £100 million and a billion pounds, of which a vast majority would have to be picked up by the tax payer, although this might well be contested by the European Court, as it is likely to contravene EU laws restricting state subsidies.  Industry insiders say that a 128Kb/sec MP2 data stream (how DAB is transmitted) costs sixteen times more than broadcasting the same content by analogue FM (and the analogue sound quality will be far superior to the 128k DAB audio). The problem for broadcasters is that OFCOM structures its’ licences so that if a radio station does not commit to DAB, they will lose their FM licence. The only European countries that have rolled out DAB broadcasting are the UK and Denmark; the first country to experiment with DAB was Germany, but they switched off their multiplex back in 2008 after only 200,000 DAB receivers were sold in ten years. The problem is that DAB has never been an ideal technological solution, and it has now been soundly overtaken by internet broadcasting via DSL and also 3G / 4G phone, set top satellite and cable boxes and the fact that analogue FM is more than good enough. So where does this leave DAB? It is much more expensive, has worse coverage, sounds inferior, and only gets used by 23% of the radio listening public. DAB has been a solution in need of a problem, and I feel that the government have now sent out a message that they are not going to do anything until after the next general election; if at all.

The ending video is by way of a virtual Christmas card - a bit of holiday fun. A CGI feast for fans of the Chuck Norris legend (for those of you not in the know, there has been a long running Internet story how Chuck Norris is some kind of superhero - you can read some outrageous but very entertaining statements here. Anyway, here is a little bit of Christmas fun for you. Comments below, or Email hugh.neal@gmail.com as always.

Home for Christmas.

I don't normally publish personal or "home" photos, but as it is the festive season, here are a few shots taken over the last few days. Click on any of them for a larger view. Shirley came up to stay, and you can see the results above. Photos one and three were taken at my place (sometimes jokingly referred to as "Pewty Acres") - the middle shot was taken in my Mum's spacious living room when we went up for a pre Christmas lunch and present exchange. Just for once the photos are uploaded onto my Flickr account, but for reasons best known to me, they have been set as private and you won't be able to see them without a password.

The normal grumpy , vindictive and moaning service will be resumed shortly. You have been warned!

Update - it could not last. Something that has just come to my attention. Chavs have now escalated the council estate arms race. Not only do they fight their ugly, illegal and vicious pit bull terriers, but they now also fit them with armour to increase their chances in combat - you can view the pit bull armour site here. I could not make this up!

The Christmas message from Erith.

Click on the above image for a larger version. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Shirley and the kids came up to stay - she's just gone home and I will post some photos shortly; I have left my whizzy camera up at my Mum's, so it may be a couple of days before the images appear online.

See the full trailer for the Doctor Who Christmas special below.