Book launch on 19th May

The Peninsula Papers will be launched on Thursday 19th May, at Millennium School, John Harrison Way, Greenwich, 6pm-7.30pm.

Peninsula Papers book now being edited

Thanks everyone for your contributions. The 15 chapters plus numerous interviews and recollections are now being edited ready for a book coming out later this year. Further details to follow...

Chapter 15 by Kate Bromfield

We sat by the window overlooking the Woolwich Road. There was very little traffic; a four-wheel drive and a 422 bus sped by. Four kids kicked a football around Glenister Green. The taxi driver drummed his fingers on the table and sighed.

           

‘I wish she wouldn’t do this,’ he said.

           

‘Do what? Who?’

             

‘My wife. She tracks me down. Phones to find out if I’m here. Listen, he’s talking to her now.’

            

 We could hear the man in the smart suit laughing in the kitchen. He came through the door grinning.

            

 ‘You’re in deep ‘doo-doos’ John Nyguen. She’s already on that 422. I’ll do you a carry-out man.’

             

The taxi driver slumped in his chair and covered his face with his hands. Outside the window stood the woman with the three little girls I’d seen it seems like decades ago. The two older girls were jumping up and down and the little one in the pushchair kicked her feet excitedly.

           

‘Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!’

           

The woman opened the street door.

           

‘You’re one useless man John Nyguen! You go and take your children to the park on Sundays like the other Daddies do. Go and buy them some ice-cream.’ She looked at me.  ‘He’s been givin you that tale about “keeper of the diamond” has he? He’s not livin in the real world. Huh!’

             

The taxi driver raised his eyebrows and shrugged at me and then he was on his feet walking to the door.

           

‘Thanks Delroy! I owe you one,’ his wife said to the man in the suit.

             

She went at a fast pace, the taxi driver hunched over the pushchair, trying to balance a tub of chicken feet, his two older daughters skipping by his side. I followed behind. We passed the flats again where Annandale School used to be, past the shop that was once the post office where I bought my pic n’ mix as a child, past the house with the big white posts and the tall blue iron gates and turned right into Chevening Road.

            

 The sun shone brightly on the mosaic plaque as we came in through the Pleasaunce gates. Daffodils and forsythia glowed. The shadows from the trees stretched over the emerald grass towards the mellow brick wall. John Nyguen the taxi driver took the girls and the pushchair through the gate and wheeled towards the slide in the dog-free zone. The little one began to grizzle.

            

 ‘Teddy! I want my teddy!’

            

 John Nyguen’s wife grabbed my arm and pulled me in the direction of the café. A magpie ‘raarked’, a flash of black and white in a tree. The park was teeming with dog walkers, dogs on leads, dogs off their leads, running, barking. We took the path through the gravestones, ‘in loving memory of Sarah Ellen, wife of …’, past two men in their 30s playing table tennis competitively. Toddlers bumbled busily on the stretch of uneven grass in front of the café. The wooden tables and chairs were full.

             

‘You’re not the first you know. I have to speak to you,’ the taxi driver’s wife said.

            

 We’d reached the café door. It was packed. There were people at every table and a queue standing facing the counter waiting to be served. They turned to face us as we came in – Delroy, Martin from the flat, Dave the caretaker, the crane driver, the head teacher, the fisherman, Mr and Mrs Smith, the elderly couple with the child.

            

 I was so tired. WHAT NOW?

Kate Bromfield lives in East Greenwich.

Remaining few days!

Chapter 15 will be on its way shortly... We are only collecting contributions until next Friday March 18th, so get in touch if you would like to take part. This doesn't need to be a new chapter, it could be a description of a place that has been visited in the story or a section to be added in between chapters. Get in touch by emailing rohini@streamarts.org.uk

Chapter 14 by Daniel Davies

We sprang up and bolted for the door. 

‘No good, it’s locked’ I said as the taxi driver rattled and twisted at the handle ‘We’re stuck’

‘That’s right’ said the tiny woman. ‘Now tell me of the diamond!’

Her voice and manner were transformed and she made an unsettling silhouette against the window.

‘I don’t know who or what you are but we’re not saying anything!’ I said.

There was a pause. A slow and ominous rattle could be heard. It took me a moment to realise it was coming from her, from the old woman’s throat. As she lunged across the room the rattle burst into a blood-curdling scream.

 ‘Enough of this!’ said the taxi driver as stepped back and shoulder barged the door with alarming force.

The old woman still screaming at our backs, we threw ourselves through the doorway. My head still spinning, I drew breath. But it wasn’t the stale air of communal corridor that greeted us but the note of a crisp clean green space, an outdoor space.

‘I know this place’ I said.

‘Mmm’ grunted the taxi driver as he dusted his clothes, still visibly shaken.

‘It’s the Pleasaunce, off Halstow Road. I went to school just down the road from here. Why are we here?’

‘The diamond must be gaining strength’ said the taxi driver wearily and then after a second ‘I don’t know about you but I could do with a cup of tea…followed by some Chinese food. I could eat bucket of chicken’s feet’.

‘You’re odd man, you know that?’ I said but the taxi driver simply only responded with a flash of a grin and a sweep of the hand, which I took to mean ‘let’s go’.

As we left the Pleasaunce, I cast a glance back. I’d always liked it there- the feeling of simultaneously being outside and safely nestled within the park. I remembered the old ping-pong tables, concrete, outdoor ones, like they have in France. I remembered the little café as it was and the view of the tiny graveyard tucked in at the bottom of the slope. It was womb-like and comforting to be here again.

After a minute or two we found ourselves down at the Woolwich Road.

‘Ahh! Wing Wah Buffet!’ said the taxi driver, pointing to the corner. ‘Perfect! But wait, what day is it?’

‘I’m not sure what year it is, to be honest’ I said

‘Not to worry. It’s just there’s no ice-cream on Sundays’

And it was true. There was the sign in the window in undeniably bold and forbidding vinyl lettering.

NO ICE CREAM ON SUNDAYS

‘Huh’

We pushed through the glass doors to a flood of hot, delicious, savoury smells. A odorous soup of curries, fried fish, steaming rice and cooked peppers.

‘Hello’ said the smart-suited man calmly walking towards us, his hand outstretched. ‘We’ve been expecting you two’.

I turned to the taxi driver. He swallowed almost imperceptibly.

‘Chicken feet!’ He hollered through the doors and into the kitchen. ‘You’ll be staying a while, might as well eat’.

Daniel Davies is a teaching assistant at Halstow School. He is also an artist and his work is here: http://gentleistheword.blogspot.com/

Chapter 13 by Jamie Walker

At that moment there was a huge explosion, and all I could see was a huge kaleidoscope with every colour of the rainbow swirling around it, and at the centre was the taxi driver's head, turning furiously like a spin-top that had just been released.

My body felt very hot, and then suddenly, as quickly as it had started, it all stopped as I fell to the ground in a heap.

'Are you OK?' asked the taxi driver

'I think so,' I replied, 'where are we?'

'We're back in 2011, where we belong, at the Oval Square back at the Greenwich Millennium Village. Let's go over to Martin's house for a cup of tea.'

I had no idea who Martin was, but I wasn't about to argue and a cup of tea sounded like a great plan. It occurred to me that the Oval Square was a funny name, as a square cannot be oval, and something that's oval cannot be square.


There were big residential buildings on three sides of the oval square, with shops occupying the ground floor level. There was a convenience store called Nisa, an estate agents called 1st Avenue, a pharmacy called The Village Pharmacy and a dry cleaners called Starshine.

We walked up to one of the residential building entrances, and the taxi driver punched in the number 334 to the shiny intercom panel. There was a slight pause, and then a man answered.

'Hello?' the man said.

'Hello, is that Martin?' asked the taxi driver.

'Yes, this is Martin, come up. I'm on the 3rd floor.'



A buzzing sound came from the door, and the taxi driver pulled it open. We walked down the corridor and waited for the lift. I noticed that there were hundreds of letter boxes in the corridor, and wondered how the postman managed to get to the letterboxes through the electric door. He must have a key, I guessed.

When we arrived on the 3rd floor, Martin was waiting for us.

'Follow me' he said, and hurried down the corridor to flat 334.



Martin was a very tall, thin man with no hair. His flat was very empty, with almost no furniture. The main room had a kitchen and a balcony, with three plastic chairs grouped in the centre.
Martin went straight to the kettle to fill it up with water from the tap. The taxi driver and I sat down on the plastic chairs and waited to be offered a cup of tea.



'So,' said Martin, 'what have you guys been up to then?'

'Well,' replied the taxi driver 'we've been to 2060 and seen some very strange things. More importantly, we have seen some very worrying things.'

'Yes,' I agreed. 'There will be a flood in 2025, and from then on the weather will behave very erratically.'

'Oh dear,' said Martin, 'that's very worrying indeed. Is that all that happened when you were in 2060?'

'We also saw an animal that was half pig and half horse that belonged to a woman who ran in the Olympics.' said the taxi driver.

'Ah!' exclaimed Martin. 'Now, what did this woman tell you? Tell me all, in great detail my friends.'

'That's it really, there isn't much more to say,' said the taxi driver, acting slightly nervously.

'What about the dia-' I started.

'Shhh!' hushed the taxi driver.

'Carry on!' boomed Martin 'Tell me more!'

'It was nothing,' I lied, 'I was just going to ask the time.'

'Tell me the truth, tell me about the diamond!' Martin screamed.



Just then something very odd happened. Martin turned from a very tall, thin man with no hair into a very short, fat, hairy woman with red eyes and blue lips.

'It's a trick!' shouted the taxi driver. 'That's not Martin! Let's get out of here!'

Jamie Walker is a local resident

Chapter 12 by Year 6 students at St Josephs School

The taxi driver looked around him and asked, “So what has happened since 2010? What happened when some of it was flooded?”

The woman sounded well-rehearsed as she narrated the story: “The Thames Barrier did not hold back the flood. The water rose over the gates. There was so much water that it came in a great wave knocking aside everything in its path. It surged onwards and upwards, when it arrived in Central London it was as high as Nelson’s Column. The water was so dirty, it was almost black, taking with it dead animals, buildings, rotten food, and goodness knows what else! Downstream, all the water meadows were deluged, Hall Place was submerged, Sutcliffe Park, Belvedere and all parts of Essex were unrecognisable.”

“So what about all the things that were planned… what about the Olympics?” I asked, aware that it was perhaps a strange question, but all the preparations had been happening when we left 2010.

“Well, I was in the Olympics actually,” she said, smiling. “I was a runner. But it didn’t go so well.. it was complicated.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was the keeper of a magic diamond.” She replied. “But when I took part in the race it fell out of my pocket. When I stopped to pick it up all the other athletes ran past me and it got kicked into the crowd. The race was won by someone else, everybody stood up, clapping and shouting and hurried out of the stadium.

“The diamond? Do you mean our diamond?” the taxi driver asked incredulously, but she simply continued with her story.

“A little girl from the crowd had taken it. I tried to get it back from her- I even chased her mother’s car- but she threw it into the River Thames and I had to swim after it. But a fish had swallowed it and I ended up having to cook it to get it out!” she smiled at the memory. “But it is difficult to keep hold of things when the river keeps flooding every few years.”

“So these floods,” I said, “why are they happening? Is it because of climate change?”

“Yes,” she replied. “The first big one was in 2025, and then there was another one in 2040. I tried to keep hold of the diamond like I was supposed to, but every time it flooded all of our possessions would get swept away. It once fell down a pothole and we had to get some archaeologists to come and look for it. But in 2040 it was knocked into an oyster shell along the Thames beach. When we found it that time King Joseph sent us a letter to congratulate us.”

“King Joseph?”

“Yes, William’s son,” she said, as if it was obvious.

As she spoke a strange animal walked past.

“What on earth is that?” asked the taxi driver with a jump.

“That is Dynamite Danger,” the woman replied. “He’s my pet- he’s half pig and half horse.” She patted him on the head as she spoke.

“Half pig..?” I began.

“Yes, he has amazing special powers and can sense danger from afar. When he senses danger he bangs his hoof on the ground. He can create an earthquake which only applies to the victim. Then with his laser eyes he burns the evil out of them. He grows bigger and more powerful each time he uses his powers. When he can’t burn the evil out of someone he eats them. He consumes the scorched plants that can’t be eaten by the humans. He used to live in caves hidden deep in the grass on the mountains. He drinks salty water, pond water, animal Red Bull, Coke, lemonade.”

The strange creature suddenly jumped and lifted his front leg. Shaking his head he stamped it into the dusty ground in front of us.

“Danger! He can sense danger!” the woman exclaimed, and looked at us with a worried expression.

Chapter 11 by Richard Sudlow

“You could say that,” I replied. “It’s a while since we were here,”

“Shall I show you around?” she asked, already out of her seat and walking towards us. It seemed she had already decided.

“It’s very different from how we remember it,” said the taxi driver.

“well if it’s a few years ago, yes it must be quite different,” she replied. “There are still some old people who tell us about this ‘shopping’ that used to happen here. Now we just sustain ourselves. Of course it’s very difficult in the wet and dry seasons.”

“What do you mean? Summer and Winter?” I asked.

“You do talk in strange old language!” she laughed. “No, now we only have two seasons, the wet season where half of the land is underwater, and the dry season, when the reeds get so hot they catch fire.”

“So which are we in now?” I asked, looking around. The ground did look quite wet but I just thought it had been raining.

“This is end of the wet season,” she replied, “which is why you can’t go to the top of the Peninsula at the moment. Just like a lot of the country, it’s become a wetland, with wildlife and birds living there. So when they re-introduced the wolves and lynxes a few years ago, they started going there so they could get some birds to eat.”

“So it’s all gone, the shops, the cinema, the O2?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well of course the O2 is inaccessible because of the water,” she replied. “but the cinema is still there, they show holographic films and hire out headsets.”

“So out of everything that was here, the cinema is the only thing to survive?” I asked incredulously.

“Well nobody has that kind of equipment any more, so they have to go there for entertainment.”

“But what about the shops?” I asked. “where do people get their food from?”

She looked at me blankly. “Well of course we are self-sufficient,” she replied. “Where else would we get it from?” 

Richard Sudlow is a volunteer at the Greenwich Peninsula Ecology Park

Chapter 10 by Iris Dove

I looked towards the Ecology Park. It seemed a calm and peaceful place, I felt as if we were hidden away, miles from everywhere. I had always thought of this part of the Peninsula that way, but now it really did seem as if there were no other buildings near us. The big grey and blue skies were still all around us but I couldn’t see the Millennium Village. The water was covered in lily pads, just like in the fairy stories when there would be toads sitting on them. I could hear people walking on the shingle, so the Park must still be there in some way. I could see birds: cormorants, snipe, coots, moorhens and goldfinches. I could see people walking around moving large bags around in wheelbarrows. Some of them were wearing waders and carrying scythes, others were kneeling down on cushions, looking relaxed and talking to each other.

I could remember when you had to leave the Thames path and cross over the motorway. The O2 and the DLR looked as if they were on the other side of the river. The area felt rather isolated and windswept, I had often felt as if I was out in the wilds in this part of the Peninsula, despite the roads.

We walked through the gates of the Ecology Park and I realised how different things were. At the edge of the Park, where I was used to seeing the Millennium Village, was an open space that looked something like a village green. People were also working here- digging and tending to the plants. There were so many plants- not just in the ground but also in various containers. Looking more closely I could see that some of the containers were objects- like footballs and dolls’ heads - cut open, with herbs and leaves sprouting from the tops. I remembered that the Yacht Club used to have a nice garden, and that there were other gardens along the path that surprised you as you walked along it, but nothing on this scale.

I turned around and looked at the river. It was so much busier than it had been before, it actually looked as if it was being used properly. The fisherman who had given us a lift was standing talking to a group of other men, and next to them was a pile of different kinds of fish. Looking further down the river I could see huts, a fish market, almost a village. All along the river were sculptures made from rope, brooms and other found objects- I could remember seeing one of them there before, but now there was a whole collection. A group of seals could be seen basking on the rocks at the edge of the water.

“Let’s go and see what the rest of it is like” said the taxi driver.

We continued walking up what could just be recognised as John Harrison Way, towards what still somewhat resembled the motorway flyover. We walked around the roundabout- now covered in corn- and went towards the shopping centre.

But to my shock, the shops were no longer there. In their place were some allotments, and although I could make out parts of the buildings, they looked like ruins, with trees and bushes growing from parts of the orange signs of B&Q and Sainsbury’s. Turning around I saw a group of caravans and smoke coming from a fire- it looked as if a travelling community had taken up camp here.

Next to the caravans was a small hut, and through the open door could be seen a woman who was looking at us. “Are you strangers here?” she called out.

Iris Dove is a volunteer at the Greenwich Peninsula Ecology Park

Chapter 9 by year 5 & 6 students at Halstow School

The taxi driver squinted at Mr Smith’s hand. “Do you think we’re stupid?” he said angrily. “I told you I’m the warden of the diamond, you don’t think I would mistake that piece of plastic for the real thing do you?”

In a flash the husband and wife had sprinted away from us once more.

By this time it was nearly 1am and the concert was just finishing. Crowds of people streamed out of the doors and through a side entrance of the arena. It was easy for the couple to disappear into the throng of people. We left the O2 and were outside, nearly at the back on the north-west side of the Peninsula. A large blue building was in front of us and the couple disappeared through a shuttered doorway. “It’s the ice factory” said the taxi driver.

We followed them in and saw the pair of them standing in front of a shelf in the corner. “The perfect hiding place!” we overheard Mr Smith saying to his wife.

I looked around. The factory was full of white sparkling shapes: flowers, hearts, butterflies… all sculpted out of ice. The machinery was running and blocks of ice were being churned out of a chute. I looked again at the corner. The diamond had been hidden in amongst a pile of pieces of ice that were all around the same size as the diamond. It would be very hard to find it amongst them.

Another piece of machinery started up. What I had thought was a shelf was in fact a conveyer belt, and the pieces of ice began to be taken along it to be crushed at the end.

Mrs Smith let out a cry and jumped onto the conveyer belt, grasping and trying to find which piece was the diamond.

All three of us called out. If she continued on the belt then she would be crushed along with the ice. 

The plastic diamond went through the crusher first with a pop, but the real one stuck in the machinery and the wheels stopped with a grinding noise, just in time to save Mrs Smith. The taxi driver jumped up and grabbed it.

The pair of us ran towards the river, where the old docks used to be.

“Any idea if that magic’s going to start up again?” I asked the taxi driver. He smiled at me and just then I heard the sound of a boat starting up. We leapt aboard and it sped off, leaving Mr and Mrs Smith standing forlornly on dry land.

It was a fisherman’s boat. The man had a tattoo of a spear and an anchor on his arm but had a kindly face. I looked around the boat. It was full of tools and equipment, and looked as if the man slept inside it was well. A stuffed salmon was mounted on one of the wood panelled walls, with a plaque underneath. ‘Caught in 2015’ it said. Some of the tools were wrapped in ancient yellow newspaper. I tore off a piece of one of them. It was from 2011.

The boat stopped by the yacht club and we stepped ashore.

“What year is this?” I asked after we had thanked our driver.

“Well it’s 2060 of course” said the fisherman.

Chapter 8 by Year 5 & 6 students at Halstow School

The Millennium Dome was full of people, mostly families with children running around. Everything was brightly lit with projected images and a large sculptural figure towered over us. I wondered for a moment why people were staring at us, before I remembered we were covered in mud and dust from the tunnel. 

We walked past a row of video projections, with animated figures and brightly coloured adverts. One of the figures seemed familiar, and as I looked closer I realised it was none other than Mr Smith, staring at us from within the screen.

The taxi driver grabbed my arm. “Of course.. he’s in the O2, in 2010,” he said, before reaching out and touching the projection screen. The image wobbled and seemed to liquefy. “Come on,” he said, and we both jumped over the barrier and right into the middle of the screen.

It made a huge crash, and we landed on the other side. But instead of being amongst the toys and games of the Dome, we were on the floor outside a restaurant, covered in pieces of glass, in what was now the O2. A waiter ran out of the restaurant and beckoned to some security guards. “Over here! They just jumped through my window!”

Ten minutes later we were sitting in a drab security office; the guard had left us in there and locked the door. We were surrounded by CCTV monitors and at one point I saw Mr Smith wandering around outside Pizza Express. I’d seen him on two different screens recently, except the first time was apparently ten years ago.

The taxi driver pulled a paper clip out of his pocket and began to try and pick the lock. I glanced around the room and saw a box labelled ‘Lost and Found” with the leg of a toy sticking out. It looked similar to the bear that had the diamond in, except this one had its arm still intact.

He eventually managed to open the door but as he opened it someone rushed past us and grabbed the bear out of the box.

We followed the person, who was wearing a long coat and a hat. They ran through the doors to the main arena, where a rock concert was taking place. It must have been near the end as the security guards didn’t seem to mind us going in. It was a side door and we were right next to some huge speakers and the music was deafeningly loud. I was glad when they pushed their way through the crowd to a different exit and we were back in the main concourse.

As we passed the cinema doors I saw Mr Smith at last in front of us. “Stop them!” I shouted to him and he grabbed the bear thief by the shoulders. The hat fell off to reveal long brown hair; we had been following a woman.

“Darling, what are you doing here?” said Mr Smith, then turning to us said, “Allow me to introduce my wife.”

“I’m getting the diamond like you asked me to!” she replied.

I gave Mr Smith a puzzled look. I thought we’d discovered the diamond together in the Pilot Inn?

She took the bear by both its arms and ripped it open, its stuffing falling out onto the floor. There was nothing else inside this bear. “Where is it?” she asked desperately.

“It’s ok, I’ve got it,” Mr Smith held the stone up and we all stared at him. But there was something different, it wasn’t sparkling in the same way as before. I moved closer to him and it was then that I saw the imprint in tiny letters: MADE IN CHINA.

Chapter 7 by Year 5 & 6 students at Halstow School

As we were flying over the eastern edge of the Peninsula, I could see what looked like the old Blackwall Point power station, that had closed years ago but which now seemed to have reappeared out of the river. The tall chimney towered over the misty water, and I could just make out a tank full of liquid. There were wires hanging from every part of the building.

As we neared the power station the chimney began to belch out thick smoke. The taxi driver gasped. “That’s not supposed to be working! It’ll interrupt the magic!” It was too late for us to stop and as we flew into the smoke cloud, we plummeted to the muddy wasteland to the side of the power station. Luckily I landed on an old mattress, but the taxi driver sunk into the mud up to his waist.

“Help me out!” he cried, as he sunk another few inches.

“What happened to the magic?” I asked him. He grabbed the edge of the mattress and I tried to pull him, but it was useless; the mud was so thick I was never going to be able to get him out.

“It sometimes happens with time travel,” he said, “Industrial pollution from the past interferes with the magic powers”

I looked at him. “Really. Well that’s straightforward.” But before I could ask him to explain more, we both turned around at the sound of an engine starting. A crane that had been parked at the edge of the power station was coming towards us. The arm of the crane picked up the edge of the mattress and began to lift it out of the mud. The taxi driver held on to the plastic handle on the end and eventually we both stood, covered in mud, next to the power station.

The figure of a man stepped down from the car of the crane and lifted his arm to wave as he walked away. He was wearing a blue and orange boiler suit and a cap. “Wait! Thanks!” I called out, and he turned around to show what seemed from this distance to be a curiously skeletal face, but continued to walk back through the doors of the power station.

“Who was that?” I asked the taxi driver.

“Well… do you believe in ghosts?” he asked me, looking at me sideways.

“No, of course not!” I replied, although why I should be so sure of this while standing in a power station that I knew had been demolished years ago, I don’t know.

“Hmmm.. Interesting..” he said and simply carried on walking. However, shortly after this we stepped on a patch of rubble which gave way beneath our feet, and we fell through into a deep hole.

We pulled ourselves to our feet and I looked at him.

“So once again I’m going to ask, what happened to the magic?”

“I think it’s malfunctioned,” he said sheepishly. “Maybe it’s a virus or something. Anyway it’s ok, but we’ll have to take the long way to the O2 now I’m afraid.”

My eyes were becoming more accustomed to the dark and I could see that we were in a tunnel, something like the Woolwich Foot Tunnel but lit with very dim blue lights, and a faint yellow glimmer of more brightness up ahead. “Come on,” said the taxi driver, and led the way.

So we followed the direction of the yellow light and after about ten minutes reached some steps with a sign pointing “Millennium Dome this way”, which was strange, not only because it closed years ago, but also because it was certainly never open at the same time as the Blackwall Point Power station….

The Peninsula Papers: CHAPTER 6 by Paul Flaherty

I could hear Mr Smith “help me!” he screamed. If only I could swim, I felt incredibly useless as I watched him struggle in the water. I had to get help, I needed to rescue him. I was completely stuck for ideas, what should I do next? Due to fear, the sweat was dripping from my forehead like rain droplets down a car windscreen.

At this point in time the diamond meant nothing to me.

.....A bright purple light flashed in front of my eyes and I could see the diamond through the water twinkling like a midnight star. It was almost as if the flashes of colour were communicating with each other.

The thoughts in my head were racing around like clothes in a washing machine, if I was confused before then, I was now baffled beyond belief. I felt slightly dizzy and almost weightless, something very weird was happening.

I felt a tap on my shoulder “Hello you” the voice said. As I turned round I could see the taxi driver, he had a big warm smile on his face, he continued to speak at me with a confident tone in his voice “I thought we would be meeting again, but not in the same day or like this”.

I was frightened and slightly short of breath but I managed three simple words “Who are you?” I asked. “It’s ok, relax. I believe the question you should be asking is where are we? He said. I thought to myself, what does that mean? I needed answers as his riddle was starting to frustrate me.

The so called taxi driver continued to confuse me with his words “In less than 5 seconds you will scream” his confidence was verging on arrogance. “No I won’t! How can you be so sure?” I asked inquisitively. “It’s now time for you to look down” he said, “Arghhhhh!” he was right, I wasn’t just screaming I was absolutely petrified; we were floating in the sky, am I dead or a sleep? I was questioning my own sanity.

I could see the top of the Cinema and the supermarket, all the people in the car park looked like ants from this height. I finally asked the question that I should have started with “Where are we?”

“Well done, now you are asking the right questions” he seemed pleased, he continued to tell me more. “I am the Greenwich borough warden of the diamond, it is my job to keep it and anyone else connected to it safe. We are currently being transported inside a laser that that beams down from the Dome”.

This day was already mad so I decided to go along with what he was saying. I wanted, needed, more information “Ok, ok. I will pretend to ignore the fact that we are floating and that the diamond seems to be magic” “not seems, it is magic” he interrupted. “Yeah ok, whatever you say. So you’re not a taxi driver then?”

This seemed to amuse him as he belly laughed at my question “of course I am a taxi driver. I still need to pay my bills like anyone else. Anyway we’re nearly at the Dome. Your friend is waiting for you”.

“Which friend is that then?” I said, “Mr Smith of course, I have already transported him across, he’s drying off and he has the diamond. Both of you need to continue this journey, good luck”.

What happens next?

Chapters 4 and 5 are now online, thanks to Gormley and Ofili classes at Millennium School. If you live or work in East Greenwich or the Greenwich Peninsula you can take part in Lucy's project by writing a chapter or even just suggesting how the story should progress.

To find out more, email rohini@streamarts.org.uk

The Peninsula Papers: CHAPTER 5 by Ofili Class, Millennium School

As the caretaker walked towards us, I saw that he had a scar running across his cheek. He was wearing a silver uniform, with holes in his hat and a name badge saying ‘Dave’ on his chest.

“What do you think?” I whispered to Mr Smith. I already felt the situation was out of control and was unsure whether to let another person join us.

“I don’t trust him,” he replied. “leave it up to me!”

Before I knew what was happening, he had tripped Dave up and to my surprise produced a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and put them onto Dave’s wrists. Why on earth did he have them with him? I was becoming more and more worried about whether I should really have trusted this man.

He snatched the tape away from his grasp, took a set of keys from the caretaker’s pocket and held one up to me. “This says its for the Paper Cupboard, I saw that door inside the school!” By this time Dave was shouting at us, but we managed to get him inside and into the cupboard without too much trouble. A pang of guilt made me leave the keys in the lock on the outside though, so hopefully he wouldn’t be in there for too long.

“I’m not leaving it here now,” said Mr Smith, and swiftly opened the hiding place to get the diamond back again. By this time my head was spinning at the constantly changing decisions, but I let him take the diamond once again and put it into his back pack.

Outside the school, the road was quiet and dusty with the sounds of the traffic in the background. Just then a black cab came past, and not only that but the light was on. I hailed it and we got in. The taxi driver turned round. “Where to?”

“The river?” said Mr Smith

“And step on it!” I told him.

The cab was spotlessly clean and unusually shiny inside, with gold leather seats and television screens in front of us. I noticed that the film Goldeneye was playing.

“You must have some money to do the cab up like this,” I remarked.

“Oh yeah, it comes from all the diamond smuggling,” he laughed, without noticing how much we both jumped. “Only joking! Seriously though, I don’t need the money but I just like driving people round.”

We went back past the yellow and red buildings, past Sainsbury’s and the Odeon, until he pulled up by the river, where I had passed earlier that day.

I searched in my pocket for some change. “This one’s on me,” said the driver, and we got out of the cab. “Just do me a favour some other time.”

“Thanks for the ride!” I called after him as he drove away.

We were standing by the Yacht Club, the bright sails clinking in the wind, which seemed to be getting stronger. My rash companion had already jumped into one of them which was just at the edge of the water. I tried to tell him that I hadn’t ever sailed a boat before, but he took no notice. The water was so rough that the boat was being pushed around and I could see that it was going to be impossible to sail it on the river.

“If you’re not coming with me, I’ll have to go on my own!” he said, the wind gusting around him. I was becoming increasingly concerned for his sanity, and once again wondered whether Mr Smith was really his name, or just a cover he had used at the Pilot Inn.

I had no time to react, because just then a particularly large gust of wind blew him off his feet and he landed on the floor of the boat. The diamond, which had been clutched in his hand, flew into the air, the light gleaming and reflecting from its surfaces as it went.

SPLOSH! The diamond cut through the surface of the water as fast as a bullet.

We looked at each other for a split second before Mr Smith dived over the side of the boat to try and rescue his prize, but the diamond was falling too fast through the murky waters. I could just see him at the bottom of the river, his hands grappling through the mud and grime. After nearly a minute of frantic searching, he came back up to the surface, but the water was by now even rougher, and he was being carried away by the current.

The Peninsula Papers: CHAPTER 4 by Gormley Class, Millennium School

As the door creaked open, I peered through into the room which had red painted walls and was in a very messy state, as if someone had stayed there for some time. The man, who I assumed must be Mr Smith, was sitting on the wooden bed with the bear held in wrinkled hands.

As he stood up I saw that he was thin and much taller than me. Trying to keep calm, I asked if I could have the bear back but he replied loudly “It’s my bear and my reward.”

I tried to reason with him- after all, someone really wanted it back- but we both ended up raising our voices and shouting over each other. I made a grab for the bear but he kept a tight grip on it. As we both pulled it, the arm ripped, the stuffing flew out onto the floor and out rolled what looked like a large diamond.

Within an instant we both tried to get the stone, which had rolled a little way across the floor. But at that moment there was a loud knock on the door, which sent my heart into my throat. Quick as a flash Mr Smith bent down and picked it up, putting it deftly into his backpack. I opened the door to find an elderly couple, a woman wearing glasses and a man carrying a small bag. Something about them reminded me of my grandparents, I thought as I asked, “Hello, can I help you?”

“Is this 4A?” the man asked. “No!” answered Mr Smith aggressively. As the man turned to walk away he pulled a camera out of his bag and took a photograph, before briskly walking back down the stairs.

“That was odd,” I said to Mr Smith. As he looked at me I could tell how much the event had shaken him, and he seemed to calm down as we looked at each other.

“Look, maybe we can work together on this” he said. “Maybe we can split the diamond in half? Or at least, split the money we’d get when we sold it.”

I still felt somewhat guilty about the person in the newspaper who was looking for the bear, but the discovery of the diamond made me think that perhaps the story wasn’t as straightforward as I had thought at first. I began thinking about what I could buy with my half of the money. Perhaps a shop, selling sweets or cakes on Trafalgar Road.

We discussed the idea. What should we do next? It seemed as if people were already looking for us in the hotel. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who had followed him here. Mr Smith suggested that we needed to find an unlikely hiding place for the diamond so that we could come back and get it when things had died down a bit. I knew the area but not that well. I gazed out of the window and my eyes landed on a multi-coloured group of buildings with a smaller one in the middle. It had a large fence surrounding it. “What’s that?” I asked my new companion.

Mr Smith smiled. “That could be the perfect hiding place,” he said. “That is Millennium Primary School.”

***

As we walked along John Harrison Way, the sun lit up the golden buildings and the neat gardens of the Millennium Village. In the distance, we saw the modern building that was the school.

We sprinted up to the silver gates but found that we were confronted by an intercom system. I rang the buzzer and when the receptionist answered with a cautious “hello?” I replied with the first thing that came into my head. “I’m running a writing workshop.”

“Well come to the desk and sign in then” she said and the buzzer sounded to let us in.

We sighed with relief, but we still had to get past the receptionist, and ducked down to crawl on our hands and knees past her desk. Through the door and upstairs, and we came across a science lab, which I thought could be a good place to hide it; we could put it amongst the chemicals and crystals that I imagined would be there. The lab was multicoloured with shelves full of mysterious-looking liquids in large bottles.

However, we saw that there was a teacher in the corner, with frizzy grey hair, leaning over a bubbling saucepan, so we turned back and returned downstairs.

I looked down the corridor, which seemed immensely long. The colours were bright and there was a lot of light. In different circumstances it must have seemed a calming place.

We bumped into a small child of about five years old. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“We’re teachers. Get back to your classroom.” I said sternly, and opened the nearest door. We walked into a room full of toddlers, who I thought were being naughty, crying and running around.

“BE QUIET” Mr Smith shouted. “We’re the new teachers.” I was already wondering whether he should have said this so loudly, and then I realised that the real teacher was standing there, staring at us. “Who are you? Get out of this school!”

Not wanting to admit that we’d lied, I tried to think of an excuse. “Erm…. Erm.. I need a stapler” I said and ran back out of the room.

“In here!” said Mr Smith, opening a door marked ‘Headmaster’. There were big piles of paperwork and a computer. Could we hide it here, I wondered?

We heard the door begin to open and had to dive under the desk. We were sweating like mad! But luckily the head teacher went to make himself a cup of tea, and we jumped out of the window and headed to the playground.

We then saw what we thought was an excellent hiding place- a wooden decked platform which must have space underneath it. Mr Smith ripped a really strong branch from a tree, which took several minutes despite my trying to make him hurry up. He finally got it off and we used it as a crow bar to lift up the planks of wood, before slipping the diamond in.

“Right, let’s go” said Mr Smith, “we can come back tonight to get it back.”

We were just about to leave when a man came chasing after us. “I’m the caretaker,” he said, “and I’ve got a CCTV tape of everything you’ve done. I’ll give it to the police.. unless you let me join you!”

What happens next?

Chapters 2 and 3 are now online, thanks to Ann Webb and Arthur Hayles. If you live or work in East Greenwich or the Greenwich Peninsula you can take part in Lucy's project by writing a chapter or even just suggesting how the story should progress.

To find out more, email rohini@streamarts.org.uk

The Peninsula Papers: CHAPTER THREE by Arthur Hayles

“Lost – Reward Given for Recovery. On Thursday 21 October a light brown teddy bear, about 30 cm long, of great sentimental value was lost in the East Greenwich/Peninsula area. Reward to anyone returning it or for information leading to its recovery. Tel. 07------.” I was sure it was the teddy that I had passed lying on the cycle path near the Millennium School less than half an hour before.

The present poor state of my finances, coupled with my constant wish to do some good in the world, made me turn and head back as quickly as I could. But about a hundred metres from the crossing near the Millennium School I suddenly slowed down. For there in the distance I saw a tall man stoop to pick up the soft toy, shake it, and then put it into his shoulder bag.

I felt a surge of disappointment, frustration and puzzlement. What was I to do? Without any clear idea of what I would say when I accosted him, I quickened my steps again. However, I hadn’t reckoned on his extraordinary pace as he strode away from me along John Harrison Way, soon turning left into West Parkside. Fortunately, the wide, flat, unobstructed nature of the Peninsula landscape meant that I always had him in sight. Without actually running to catch him up, which I was rather reluctant (and by now too tired) to do, I could only, with effort, slightly reduce my distance from him until he turned sharp right into River Way towards the Pilot Inn and so disappeared from view. By the time I reached the Pilot Inn, he was nowhere to be seen.

I had never visited or stood before The Pilot Inn before, and it struck me as rather strange – a very old hostelry and a line of tiny cottages all by themselves in an empty space. The old hotel and cottages seemed marooned here, like some ancient ship run aground and beached forever. Those few, poor cottages wouldn’t have supported a large inn. I wondered what might have happened here in past centuries – smuggling? dealing in forbidden goods? press-ganging? Did pilots employed to guide ships safely along the winding reaches of the Thames really use to come to The Pilot Inn? The only inhabited buildings anywhere near now were the ultra-modern, multicoloured apartment blocks and houses of the Greenwich Millennium Village on one side and the ultra-modern office blocks, O2 and Underground Station on the other, and they were all some way away from the inn and cottages. However, behind tall black fencing, nearer tower blocks were now rising, threatening to overshadow and dominate these human scale buildings left over from the past. 

Rousing myself from my daydreaming, I entered the public house part of the hotel. Although thirsty, I was reluctant to spend some of my remaining few pounds on a drink - if I managed to get hold of the lost bear and could look forward to a reward, that might be a different matter. So I slowly explored each part of the pub, looking for the tall stranger who had taken my bear. I was surprised at how low down the garden was at the back of the building – quite a drop. But the man who had taken my bear was nowhere to be seen. I guessed that he might be a guest in the hotel and had gone up to his room.

I saw no alternative but to buy a drink after all, so that I could ask the barman whether the hotel had any guests at the moment, as I was anxious to meet a man who could be staying here. I said that I had been trying to find, and return to its owner, a toy of great sentimental value lost on the Peninsula, but had seen in the distance a tall man with dark hair, black parka and shoulder bag pick it up and come here. He replied that there were three guests at present, a couple, who had a child with them, and a single man. The barman added that my description could well relate to the single guest, and volunteered to ring his room and, if he were in, to let him know that I wanted to see him. The barman went away, coming back a minute or two later to say that Mr Smith would see me in his room upstairs. I was surprised, as I had expected that Mr Smith (if that was his real name) would come to the public bar, if prepared to see me at all. I finished the mineral water and, with some misgivings, slowly climbed the stairs to Room 4 and knocked gently on the panelled door.

The Peninsula Papers: CHAPTER TWO by Ann Webb

I hadn’t seen it at first. I had been looking at an advert for local history walks. “Interested in SE10? Join one of our walkabouts and find out what went on and when. Ring ----- to discuss our schedule and rates.”

This sounded interesting. I’d read a bit about this place’s ancient history and now I know a bit about what’s about to happen- with 2012 Olympic Equestrian events in the wonderful Greenwich Park and the fact that this will, at last, be designated a Royal Borough: after all the royals that have lived here, that accolade is well overdue!
But, I knew very little about the history of the peninsula part of the borough, which was almost anonymous until 2000 when the Dome opened and brought visitors from all over the world.

If I followed up the advertisement I might have the opportunity to hear colloquially from people who live here just what life used to be like and they’d tell me about places of interest to the locals that didn’t necessarily get publicised. Yes, I decided to ring the number and get booked up for a roam. I wondered if anyone else I knew might be interested? I must find my camera and get some good pics, rather than just relying on my mobile. If I get my act together I can do a story with pictures, that could be a good birthday present for someone older to remind them of their youth in south London.

But then I glanced just to the left of this advert and saw….

Forthcoming chapters

Chapter 2 is on its way....

Forthcoming chapters will be written by children at Halstow, Millennium and St Joseph's Schools. Also chapters are being written in collaboration with residents of Sam Manners Sheltered Housing Scheme, and other local people.

We still need more people to get in touch to contribute to the book. If you'd like to find out more, email rohini@streamarts.org.uk, or phone 020 8858 2825
Or you can TEXT your idea to 07964 878315