London - Summer in the city Part 4 : Greenwich

I had it all planned, August's piece on 'London's Watery Places'. The fountains, swimming spots and boating lakes where Londoners cool down when the city sizzles. Advice on visiting Somerset House with a wriggly toddler to escape and lead you a merry cooling dance through the water jets gushing unpredictably from the courtyard. How a dip in London Fields Lido, or Hampstead ponds provides the delicious icy plunge craved by commuters after their compulsory sauna on the tube ride home.

But whenever I look out of the window it's drizzling. Or pouring. The sky glowers, white and spiteful; the air is humid. We're trapped in a giant Tupperware box, condensation soaking us, steamy and vile. The only sizzle is the sound of rain dashing out our barbecue summer. London just IS a watery place this month.

Not a total washout, though. The boat ride from Westminster to Greenwich works even when it's raining. Greenwich may have lost its 90s higgeldy-piggeldy charm and gone all structured tourist trappy with knowingly-marketed vintage clobber and endless Spanish eateries, but there's still loads to see and do. I've taken visiting Kiwi octogenarians, bored teens and my arthritis-plagued mum. They've all been wowed by Wren's Naval College, the Observatory, world-splitting Meridian Line, Maritime Museum, craft market and eighty-seven pubs within walking distance of the dock.

I went recently with my mate Cath, resident in London for decades but a novice on the river. We’re jaded about Greenwich but the Thames is the real star, anyway, we agree. The reason, after all, the city’s even here. Enterprising locals set up shop around Roman London’s bridge and a tourist industry was born. We crowd to the front, the better to catch the ‘amateur’ live commentary delivered in weapons-grade Sarf Lahndan tones by the boat Captain. Five years qualifying as Waterman, his Freedom of the River licences him- per Henry VIII's orders- to drive boats, read tides, carry passengers and– unofficially- show us our city from a fresh new angle as he gossips his way downriver. His comments on Waterloo Bridge- “built by wimmin in weld wor two” and property prices on the Isle of Dogs - 'Mini Man’attan' now innit?- are surely incomprehensible to the Japanese ladies nearby. But they smile anyway, charmed like us by tales of Oxo outwitting the river’s advertising ban; the pub where convicted pirates were drowned; London’s only wooden building, Shakespeare's Globe; Cleopatra's Needle, the scaffolded Shard – our oldest and newest landmarks. Homeward bound, the tide is so high we landlubbers duck, squealing, under a bridge. “Cheer ahhhp, gels, you're in safe 'ands”, he winks, flashing a finely-turned calf as he trots manfully up the gangplank. We believe him. And he’s cute. A couple of authentic “gor blimeys” clinch the deal. We’re putty in his hands, digging deep to appreciate his 'free' performance via the collection buckets as we disembark.

Try it some time. Get to Westminster around noon, goggle at the Houses of Parliament and London Eye before Big Ben bongs the hour. Dispatch one party to queue for tickets – the £12.50 return unless you're good at bus routes; there's no tube in Greenwich. Send a second detail for picnic stocks at Tesco and coffees (iced or steamy) from Nero's by the tube. Reconvene. Embark - bemoaning absence of piping-aboard ceremony – and race for good seats. Wusses may remain inside. Now relax. Enjoy the city vistas gliding by as nuggets of cheeky cocker-nee chappy trivia woo your cynical ears. Take pictures. Lots of pictures. Even in the rain London's remarkable from the river. And she simply sparkles when the sun shines.....

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