Putting Blackheath on the Map

Come join us at Blackheath Village Day on 5th December for an Architectural Treasure Hunt! For more information go to www.jotownshend.com/events

Thomas Sutherland has drawn us a colourful scene from a recent BBQ held annually on their Span estate. His new neighbours look like they're enjoying the red wine and barbecued sausages.

ARCHITECTURAL TREASURE HUNT!!
Event Poster
June 20th 10am - 6pm
1 Cresswell Park, SE3 9RD

We're looking forward to tea and home made cakes sold at St Michaels & All Angels Church during the Treasure Hunt!

Watch the film to find out more about the appeal to help restore the church

http://www.se3.org.uk/appeal/

St Michael's PRISM Appeal Description

A sing-a-long on Blackheath Park

Blackheath Buccaneers sing Ballad of the Blackheath Buccaneer

My memories of Blackheath:

Patrick Westcott Deane
Playing Jungle Run with my mum when we pretended an evil monkey was chasing us and hid in the churchyard and behind trees.
Playing football in the Green for hours and hours on end.

Bridy Westcott Deane
Sailing boats on the pond and feeding the ducks.
Snowball fights and sledging down the hill in Greenwich Park.

Contribution from Sarah Westcott

Diary entry from Autumn 2003

Walking across Blackheath. The heath is green now - it was yellow as a big cat's hide in August - and Canary Wharf rises up on the horizon, geometric and beautiful. Patrick and I breathe in the tumbled air; it is windy and it bowls off the City. We feel the wind whip our faces and I open my mouth to let it rush down my throat. The London air feels almost clean although it blows over from New Cross and Deptford.

The pram is pleasingly heavy and I flex my wrists. He is still, eyes teary in the wind and his nose a pale pink like a cat's. For a moment, in the yellow grass and under the sky we are buffetted happy and I let the moment alight.

That night, I drive home across the heath at midnight. They buried thousands of souls there during the Black Death and it is said to be malevolent, haunted. I check my rear-view mirror, suddenly, for silent passengers. There is nothing. At night, criss-crossed with traffic and lit by headlights in its darkest corners, the heath feels terribly populated. Only the foxes, glinty-eyed, own the place, following trails in the dark with their noses where the cars can't go.

Eat it with your ears!!!! Clues are within....

Ballad for the the Blackheath Buccaneer Clues for an architectural treasure hunt...:)

https://soundcloud.com/joe-swift-11/ballad-for-the-the-blackheath-buccaneer