SE8 - Deptford Dockyard

Hello People,

A few weeks ago a woman I didn't know, but had once received a letter from, violently assaulted me using a judo throw, or some similar martial arts technique. The reason? I'd confronted her about the 2007 fire attack on the Cutty Sark, which I believe that she, or someone she’s protecting, may have been behind.

These last few weeks I’ve been trying to find out what she knows about the Cutty Sark fire. To find out more about the mysterious man I'd met in Lesnes Abbey, and why he warned me that I was in.

“Grave danger.”

Trouble is, if every time I confront her she body slams me, it's going to play havoc with my back, and send my insurance premium through the roof.

So I asked Rose for some advice, and she said:

"What actual proof do you have that the Cutty Sark fire was started deliberately? It's a pretty serious allegation to make, and it sounds to me like a conspiracy theory you invented one afternoon when you were board. You don't have any evidence, you've just met some really bizarre people who agree with you, and now it seems that some of these people are violent, and unstable. Also, I think you should stop telling the police about your investigation, or they'll probably arrest you for wasting their time. It’s up to you; do whatever you think’s best."

So I asked my mum, who said:

"Who is this woman who threw you? Tell her if she hurts you again I'm going to punch her in the face. I think you should stop writing this blog immediately, it's far too dangerous. You can do Pilates on a Saturday with me instead."

So I asked Dad who said:

"Hire a Segway, and disguise yourself as a Post Box. That way you can follow her without her noticing. Then we'll get to find out what she's really up too."

I sat waiting for her by the river in my post box costume this morning, and at about 8 o'clock bold as brass, there she was. I let her cycle past me a little distance before starting the Segway up, raising my post box costume slightly off the floor, and riding after her. I followed her all the way along the river, being careful to grind to a quick halt whenever she looked over her shoulder. I followed her all the way to Wavelengths Leisure Centre in Deptford without her noticing.

Once there, she chained up her bike up and went inside. I waited on the opposite side of the road for a while, but got fed up with people throwing letters at me. So I decided to go exploring around Deptford to kill some time.

Deptford Market

Deptford Market

So I started the motor up again, and headed up Griffin Street towards Deptford Market. Once there, I spotted a blanket I liked the look of on one of the market stalls (it was red with yellow and green stripes), I asked the market trader how much it would cost me.

"Who said that?" He said his eyes scanning left to right and a look of confusion across his face.

"I did." I responded from inside my letter box.

He peered through the letter slot.

"How did you get in there?"

I couldn't be bothered to explain.

"I'm the Post Box Security Guard; I stop people from stealing Royal Mail letters."

"Do people steal letters out of post boxes?" He asked.

"Not while I'm around" I replied.

He sold me the blanket, and asked if I'd deliver a Birthday Card to his brother in Maidstone for him. I promised I would, and headed off on my way.

Deptford Market

Few people in Deptford paid any notice to me motoring around in my post box costume, and why should they? There's nothing new about the unusual around here.

The local Pizzeria – Big Red – used to be a number 30 double-decker bus.The pizzas were nice, but it’s really annoying that they didn’t let you pay with your Oyster card.

The local Job Centre has now been converted into a Job Centre-themed bar. You still can’t find any good jobs, but you end up too drunk to care.

The local police station has been converted into an Art Studio, which has led to the local police becoming much tougher on local crime, describing it as laboured, unoriginal, and totally uninspiring.

I raced around for a bit, took a few corners, did some cool jumps over a couple of sleeping policemen (they were furious), and ended up back near the river, at the old Deptford Dockyard. It was there that I switched off the Segway and took a few pictures.

St Pauls Church

Peter the Greats Statue - Looking out over Depptford Dockyard

There are many interesting stories about the Deptford Dockyard, but the most interesting has to be 'The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African.'

It's an autobiography written by a man called Olaudah. It's an incredibly sad story, but one worth hearing. He begins by telling us he was born in 1745, in an area now known as Southern Nigeria, and that he and his sister were both kidknaped and sold to slave traders when he was just 11 years old. He was separated from his sister, and shipped across the Atlantic to Barbados, and then Virginia. His description of the conditions of the journey, are hard to read.

"So crowded that each could scarcely had room to turn himself…"

"The shrieks of the women, and the groans from the dying, rendered the whole scene of horror almost inconceivable."

Once in Virginia he was sold to a Royal Navy officer called Pascal for £40, who renamed him Gustavus Vassa, after a 16th century Swedish King. Pascal then took the young boy to England, where he served on the British ships during the seven year war with France as Pascal’s slave. During that time Olaudah learned to speak English, read, write, and somehow, to survive.

The war ended and Pascal and Olaudah’s ship was ordered to Deptford Dockyard to be decommissioned. Pascal had promised Olaudah his freedom once the war was over, and as the ship sailed down the Thames, he allowed himself to hope. But Pascal had lied, once in Deptford, Olaudah was seized and carried by boat to Gravesend, where he was sold into slavery again.

“My heart was ready to burst with sorrow and anguish.”

Deptford

Yet still he did not give up. He spent the next 4 years working for a shipping merchant, during which time he raised money by trading anything from fruits to glass tumblers. He eventually earned the £40 he needed to buy his freedom.

Once free he returned to Britain to support the abolition of slavery movement and after some encouragement, and financial backing from his new abolitionist friends, wrote and published his life story. His memoirs – 'The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano or Gustavus Vassa, the African' – were hugely popular all over the world; they made him a rich man, and helped promote the anti-slavery movement in Great Britain.

He settled in Britain, marring an English woman called Susan Cullen in 1792, and they had two daughters, Anna Maria, and Joanna.

Olaudah's journey to the UK was cruel one, but he took all his awful experiences, and turned them into a book, and that book helped make our world a better place. He wasn’t born here, and he was brought here against his will, but if he isn’t a Great Britton, then I’d like to know who is.

Olaudah Equiano

I headed back to Wavelengths, but by the time I got there, her bike had gone. The mysterious cyclists had gotten away again. Oh well, there’s always next time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to deliver a letter to Market Trader's brother in Maidstone.

References

http://spartacus-educational.com/Sequiano.htm

http://archive.museumoflondon.org.uk/LSS/Map/Resistance/People/41.htm

http://archive.museumoflondon.org.uk/LSS/Map/Resistance/People/40.htm

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olaudah_Equiano

http://www.nlj.gov.jm/rai/CSEC/BookTheme2/The_Interesting_Narrative_of_the_Life_of.pdf