Thirty Thousand Streets

Monday, November 28, 2005

Pirates of Greenwich

Damn, It was a good weekend. Not satisfied with going and having loads of fun on Friday, me and fellow blogger Gridrunner decided to up and leave our respective areas in South London, Camberwell and Clapham respectively, for a grand day out in Greenwich.

Quite a hike too, and we had to get two (count em') buses to get there. But a childhood in a Northern city prepares you for this kind of shit so we didn't care. And what a jape filled day it was

Don't know much about Greenwich really. It's the home of Greenwich Mean time - in the sense of average rather than a harsh species of time that might make you late for a job interview, or date perhaps (or just grow old and die). It's also quite near the Millenium dome, but no-one can hold that against it. No-one saw that one coming.

Basically, Greenwich is quite posh - but in a nice way. If Greenwich were a facial expression I wager it'd be a ruddy cheeked royster-doysterish grin, perhaps champing on a pipe, and attached to a person tending a stall mayhap (probably selling strong, organic ale, no doubt!) There's just something downright wholesome about the place - but critically, without actually being boring or catshit.

Having been decanted from the bus onto the cold pavement we walked along the high street, while my associate took the opportunity to photograph lots of stuff with his new digital SLR, which is actually really good and does everything short of record in bullet time. He's taken some amazing stuff with it, but then, he's taken some great stuff with all his cameras. I've got something a bit more like the ones out of the flintsones.. It manages about 10 shots to a charge these days, after which time, the homunculus inside which records the image feels knackered and goes back to bed.

My uncle owns a gallery there, selling antiquarian prints, and we popped in to see him, I think slightly surprising him, but then, the entire mission was something of a spur of the moment decision. Should hang out with him more, he's a dude. From here we went to the covered market, checking out the wholesome wares on display, and this is where the pirate bit of the title of this post came in.

While passing a stall selling t-shirts I saw one I recognised from a website called, where people can basically post their t-shirt designs to a public vote, with the most highly rated getting printed. My mate had been furtively taking photos of various market-mensch all this time and, snapped one of this shirt. To which the (actually quite nice seeming) girly behind the stall stall said:

"Er, I'd rather you hadn't done that - copyright reasons?"

Heh, Ok lady. My buddy deleted it, and she then relented and let him take it again. She did seem frankly unaware it had a double on the internet when I suggested it might be indulging in 'the highest form of flattery', but maybe it's a little rich talking about copyright whilst selling designs you bit off someone else.

Has to be said, I've no problem appropriating other peoples stuff, if you put a bit of a different spin on it, but this was a pretty wholesale bit of plunder. You can check out the original one on the website here.

It must be said, the dudes who blog on that site luurve their t-shirts, so there might be a bit of a lynching in Greenwich if they get wind of it. Or some very catty words said in cyberspace.

Anyway, from here went on a bit of a wander up to the university, and thence onward to the Cutty Sark, which is a big landlocked ship, frustratingly close to actual water. It looks a bit like a giant hand emerged from the clouds one day and plonked it there because it was getting tired of carrying it. Near there there's also a tunnel, that goes right under the Thames. It looks exactly like the kind of location which would feature in a photo shoot for the now sadly defunct Jockey Slut magazine, featuring a moody looking DJ who's probably impatiently awaiting a callback from his dealer for the duration of
the shoot. Alongside the Japanese tourists underneath the Thames, we dutifully mocked one up. Anyway, great place, and if maybe not quite an industrial marvel by today's standards, certainly impressive and actually, what do I know, man who's never wired a plug.

This is what's good about Greenwich though, it's actually got good stuff there. Maybe it's familiarity, but stockport's own industrial marvel - the biggest brick structure in Europe (the viaduct) never seemed quite as affecting.

After that, we went and ate Pie and mash round the corner, which was reassuring winter stodge, and just what the doctor ordered, before proceeding to a pub called 'the Gipsy Moth' to quaff ale (OK, lager) and talk rubbish for a bit. Interesting crowd as well. Quite bright eyed and bushy tailed, and there was a girl there with a complex tatoo that looked really like a pair of knickers riding up her crack, which was fascinating. Having fully discussed the merits (or lack therof) of Sony Erricsson phones - specifically the one I inherited off him, we resignedly got up and left for the seedier environs of Camberwell, and that grand boozer, 'The Hermits Cave'.

But what a day. For a nice winters day out, SE10 excells. Greenwich, I salute you!

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