I KNOW this site is called Greenwich.co.uk, but today I’m going to skip bail and write about the glory that is Deptford.
That is not, by the way, the heavy-handed sarcasm you sometimes find on lesser websites. Deptford really is a kind of miracle. Three fishmongers! No supermarkets! A thriving street market with knobbly vegetables! Surely there must be some plan to ruin it?
Oddly enough, this does not appear to be the case. True, a few years ago, leaflets with all the most dreaded danger words – “vibrant,” “Richard Rogers,” “continental-style piazza” – appeared, promising the “regeneration” of the Creekside area (that is, the construction of the usual crappy towers of “luxury apartments”.) The recession, thank God, seems to have killed that one off. Even bankers have their uses.
A redevelopment plan for the railway station and the area around it is, it transpires, going ahead. But in something unprecedented in the annals of “regeneration,” it may actually be better – or at least no worse – than what’s there now. I will miss the atmospheric old station, but suppose I may be in a minority. Most of the rest of Deptford High Street will be staying, and the buildings that are getting knocked down are mostly rubbish.
In the seventeenth century, Deptford gave us the diarist John Evelyn; in the sixteenth century it took away from us the playwright Christopher Marlowe (murdered in a local tavern – what a Deptford death); but in the twenty-first century, I think, what Deptford has given London is a potential model for subtle, non-destructive gentrification.
Nowhere can remain in a timewarp, and the area certainly needs more money in it. This is happening – there are, if you look carefully, quite a lot of bourgeois, Guardian-reading types in Deptford – but unlike in so many areas they seem to have arrived without overwhelming the existing residents.
Apart from a few fairly low-key outposts of the Converse-wearing classes – a couple of pubs, the railway carriage cafe, some arty things – the ordinary life of SE8 goes on without wall-to-wall estate agents, destination bars, cappucino shops, and all the other things that have spoiled Stoke Newington and Hoxton.
You can see this in places like my new favourite pub, the Dog and Bell in Prince Street. I have cycled past this place on my way home hundreds of times, but usually too late at night to go in. This week I happened to be passing at 9pm and what a find it was.
Time Out, London’s most reliably stupid magazine, describes the Dog and Bell as “Deptford’s best bar. That it’s dark, foreboding and located in no man’s land matters not a jot.” I suspect all this “matters not a jot” because none of it is actually true. The Dog and Bell is not “foreboding,” or even what they presumably meant to say, forbidding. It is not “dark.” It is not “located in no man’s land,” as if Prince Street was somehow West Belfast. Above all, of course, it is not a “bar.” It is a pub – a traditional backstreet pub – and one of the most perfect examples of the species I know.
There are wooden benches, yellow walls (would you say yellow was a “dark” colour? I wouldn’t), an open fire, mirrors with Fullers adverts. There are, I’m told, outstanding real ales (I wasn’t drinking). There is a warm welcome and decent food. There is even a skittles table (Time Out thinks it’s a billiards table) – which was, at the time I visited, being played on by a bloke in a flat cap and muffler and a bloke in a waistcoat.
Now our two players on the skittles were almost certainly middle-class: “aesthetically, it’s a very nice table,” one of them said. But it still felt right because the clientele was mixed and the place didn’t feel in the slightest bit ponced-up.
What’s Deptford’s secret? I think, perhaps, one reason it has not reached a critical mass of Guardianistas is that there’s very little period housing. Over the last twenty years, the London bourgeoisie have swarmed all over Zone Two in search of anything with sash windows. Not many of those in Deptford. Long may it stay scruffy and faintly rough, keeping to its path of gentle social change.
Andrew,
I look forward to having a pint with you in the Dog. What you refer to as a skittles table is a Bar Billiards table; the ‘skittles’ are called pegs. There is a reasonable article on Wikipedia.
Richard Rogers is not of course a real person but merely a brand name; I know I have met the old so and so. Every Deptford involvement of the Richard Rogers partnership in Deptford has quietly crumbled to dust.
The redevelopment of the railway station has been ‘going ahead’ for at least five years; we will believe it when we see it.
Hi Andrew
Foreboding works fine (and is a matter of taste anyway), no man’s land because it is located between Deptford and Greenwich and Time Out thinks it is a billiards table because, er , it is a billiards table. Not so stupid after all – and it’s probably best to get your facts right when throwing insults around, or they can leave you with egg on your face.
Never mind, it’s a great pub (and you’re right, it’s definitely not a bar).
Hate to see what you’d have written if we’d given it a bad review.
Pip pip!
Peter Watts, Time Out
Peter
The Dog and Bell is not ”located between Deptford and Greenwich”. It is in Deptford plain and simple.
The only things ‘between’ Deptford and Greenwich are Deptford Creek and the bridges over it.
Billiard tables are used for billiards, snooker and pool and have pockets in the corners and on the long sides. A Bar Billiards table such as in the Dog has 9 holes in the playing surface.
Hi Bill,
The Time Out review Andrew is referring to does indeed call it a ‘bar billiards’ table.
http://www.timeout.com/london/bars/reviews/12679.html
Peter,
Foreboding is a noun, not an adjective. It cannot be used to describe another noun (such as a pub). According to the Collins dictionary it means “a feeling of impending evil, disaster, etc” – or more colloquially, a slightly queasy feeling in the stomach, which is what I get when I read your attempt to rewrite the English language to justify your shoddy journalism.
Andrew
Hi Andrew,
Nice of you to finally respond.
Talking of shoddy journalism, do you fancy a game of skittles?
All the best
Pete
Peter,
Somebody else has pointed out that in January you also recommended a visit to the North Woolwich Old Station Museum – which by that point no longer existed. Do you ever actually visit any of the places you claim to review?
Andrew
Andrew Gilligan says: “Foreboding is a noun, not an adjective.”
The Oxford English Dictionary says: “foreboding (adjective) – ominous.”
Maybe he should take it up with the dictionary writers instead.
Andrew,
I moved away from Deptford a long time ago but it’s slightly comforting to hear that the gentrification (unimaginable when I was a neighbour) hasn’t followed the London formula so far. Can’t say I am too surprised by that – Deptford has always been very much a one-off. is there anywhere else whose claim to fame is the murder of a celebrity?
I enjoyed the review of the Dog and Bell regardless of whether it’s skittles or bar billiards. You failed to mention that the pub won the Greater London Pub of the Year again recently.
A bonus in managing to upset touchy Time-Out but I suppose that’s an easy target?
Regards
Dave.
Cor petty petty petty.
Comments that is.
And do any of theses posters live in SE8?
Andrew, the history of Deptford is multi faceted. I also think that having a good number of churches in such a small place can bring a sense of conscience. I would also recommend reading ‘Turning the Tide’ by Jess Steele, a local historian. You will find the past has informed the future – there are many that do not want Deptford to succumb to the “Hoxton Effect”.
Mr Dictionary – Collins and Cambridge dictionaries both list foreboding as a noun only.
Hi Andrew
Yes, sadly the North Old Woolwich Station Museum closed after I had visited it but before the piece was published. It’s a shame, as it was a lovely little museum.
I should also add that this isn’t my review of the Dog & Bell – in fact, it isn’t even a review by Time Out magazine, as it was written by Time Out Guides – which has a completely different set of editors and writers. Never mind, without having done the research, you weren’t to know that.
This does, though, back up my argument – that this was an overwhelmingly positive review of a pub you claimed to like (and yes, it is a brilliant pub and I’d happily meet you there for a chat about London and a friendly game of bar billiards); and that you got your knickers in a twist about an error where none existed.
No matter, we all make mistakes. But perhaps in future it would be wise to ensure you are in full possession of the facts before you start pointing your finger at other publications.
Peter
Peter,
Once again, there does seem to be rather a gulf between the English language as imagined by you and the language spoken by us earthlings. Describing somewhere as dark, forbidding and in no man’s land is not an “overwhelmingly positive review.” What it also is is an overwhelmingly false, and also faintly illiterate, review – which I am very surprised that you continue to defend.
Far from criticising an “error where none existed,” I criticised Time Out because your review contained no fewer than five errors in the space of eleven words. Even by the standards of a magazine too often rather obviously researched on Wikipedia and Google, that’s pretty good going.
Andrew
Yes Andrew, an opening line that says ‘The much-loved Dog & Bell is Deptford’s best bar’ is really negative, shockingly so.
And as I’ve said before, this is not a review by the magazine, it’s by Guides.
Nice try, though.
Now please, let’s move on.
Peter,
Can I politely suggest that if you do not think the meanings of words are important, you should not be a professional writer. Have you ever thought about a career change?
Andrew
It strikes me that Andrew is taking a pretty half-baked approach to reviewing a pub when he does not even try the beer. Andrew: If you were not drinking then why not stick to some metrosexual bar with the rest of the men who monitor their hydrations levels through the day and apply themselves with balms and lotions before going to bed?
Skittles an older, English, and low-tech version of (American) bowling. I don’t think it has anything to do with bar-billiards. And what the hell is skiffle?
Hi Andrew
A classy and original response. I honestly expected better.
Anyway, talking of journalists failing to grasp the meaning of words, I’ll try again, politely.
Move on.
Sebastian sounds a pretty metrosexual sort of name to me. Fancy a lotion or two?
Andrew
It does seem a little rich to bemoan the changes that the Guardianistas and their ilk bring to an area from your leafy base in Hyde Vale. Perhaps you’d prefer that you didn’t have a local fishmonger, butcher, cheese shop on your doorstep; businesses that surely wouldn’t be thriving without the influx of the chattering classes? Instead, we could be relying on Somerfield only for our mass produced plastic wrapped provisions. Like it or not increased disposable income in an area will attract and support the businesses which you rightly praise – perhaps ever more so in the current climate.
On a another theme I also felt you judged the Richard I refit a little harshly. Personally prior to the change I had found that the pub, for some intangible reason, had lost its way and had become flat and unwelcoming and the new look has done much to remedy this. Seems to me we are considerably fortunate to have a range of watering holes to choose from in our area. From the gastropub pretensions of the Hill, to the tobacco stained ceilings and die-hard regular feel of the Prince Albert, to the youth-orientated designer beer chic of the Union we have a varied choice. The refurbished Tolly has a venue that doesn’t discriminate between tourist and local and still has a feel of is best about a traditional pub.
Finallly, I cannot fault you for your green credentials. Recycling this article and comments in the Standard for the world to share is veryGuardianista!
Regards
Can we all just agree that we love Deptford, although in our minority…?!
Peter: your attempts to distance Time Out guides from the Time Out brand are rather amusing – I’m sure your advertisers and sponsors would be less than pleased!
Where do you live, by the way?
Hi to Everyone at the Dog and Bell
I came across your great looking little pub whilst I was looking up maps of Deptford to give me a little glimpse into the life my father was born into and lived from 1920-1940’s. He lived in Armada Street (which isn’t there now). I’d like to think he shared a drink, as a young man from time-to-time with his fellow east-enders at the Dog and Bell before coming to Australia.
All the very best to you!
From Sydney
Probably too late for me to comment on this topic. i was interested to read Lee Howard’s comment re his father and Armada St. We are very much a Yorkshire family apart from my granddad (b. 1894) was born. and lived i Deptford at 23 Armada St was his address on his 1st WW soldier details from 1914. He was billeted to York and met and married my gran there in 1916. york is where we all live now. i also like to think as a young man my granddad (or his father) drank in the Dog and Bell. very interesting
Hi Dawn
It was interesting to learn about your granddad (maybe our granddad’s knew each other!) Just want to inform you of a website which may interest you that deals with old Deptford – the history, culture, people, tales etc. This is it http://www.olddeptfordhistory.co.uk. We may end up exchanging stories there ourselves! (Thanks so much Andrew)
Sydney, Australia