Erith

My objection to the age of this mooring being wisely overruled by her owner on the ground that a stronger one might lead to her being sunk if fouled by a passing barge in place of merely breaking adrift.

No one today would care to sail on the lower Thames above Erith Reach and even below it, the river is so crowded with heavy steam traffic an hour or two before and after high water that one has to wait some time for a chance of crossing it in a small sailing boat.

While scientific arrangements of sewage outfalls, et cetera, gas, and glue works have so changed the flavor of Thames water between Greenwich and Gravesend that clothes once wetted with it are not so nice to wear until washed again.

Fifty years ago, however, this part of the river had quite a pleasant tidal tarry flavor, and more traffic was then carried on under canvas than steam.

Sandown Castle, etc.

We leave Deal.

Take a villa at Erith.

Why? Economy and advantages of moving.

I've been planting oilseed rape.

Um, we've also been loading oilseed rape out, so that's gone to the crush over in Erith.

Um, so that sort of feels full ser- full circle as the one crop goes out and the next, next year's crop goes in.

Um, obviously prices are rising, so we're looking at selling some stuff at the moment, which is, um, bad for you but good for me.

The plan lay in abeyance for several weeks.

It was taken up with renewed spirit on account of an idea conceived by General Butler, suggested by reading of the great destruction consequent upon an explosion of gunpowder at Erith, England.

He supposed that firing a large mass of powder some four hundred yards from Fort Fisher would for the moment paralyze the garrison and so injure the work as to render its capture easy.

This plan, after it had been tried and failed, seemed very ridiculous, and everyone concerned in the affair except Butler made haste to disavow all responsibility for it.

This killer's story began on the 25th of February, 1966.

Robert Clive Napper was born in Erith, southeast London, and grew up on the nearby Abbey Wood estate.

He was the eldest of four, with two brothers and a sister.

His parents had a violent relationship.

In fact, the, my latest client just bought a property.

They live in Erith.

I've just bought a property for them in Sheffield.

Mm.

It's become a class war.

Prince of Erith against the King of Uppingham.

Like I say, just to...

You're in Erith, you should have a

boat.

Fucking fill a water.

A face with deeply sunken eyes and an aggressive jaw seems somehow familiar to me, and as he who wears the fustian raises his head with suddenly assumed indifference, I remember when and where I have seen him before.

The when was one day last week; the where was a Gravesend steamer; and though on that occasion the horsey-looking individual wore a dirty white greatcoat, which looked like an enlarged flannel waistcoat, and was enveloped as to the neck in a yellow worsted comforter, I recognise him as one of a select party of ruffians who were seeking some convenient spot to regale themselves with a prize-fight, and landed at Erith for that purpose.

"'Ow was 'e? Why, what d'you think 'e was?" says this person in a defiant voice, in answer to a subdued question from one of the others.

"I tell yer 'e ain't 'arf knocked out of time.

Yeah, as you come down.

As I come down, I just rolled and I rolled into the Erith turn off where the slip road comes from Erith into the Chevrons.

and i just did you panic i didn't i i first of all no not now no not now no and i just would just get to the chevron so i pulled up because i didn't want to like take up any traffic lane or anything and then i just started the van and it started strobe it i think there's a i think there's a cable out under the accelerator that's what it is you

turn mine down He turned up a little bit.

We're going to start the episode this week by talking about The Perpetrator, purely because from a chronological standpoint, it makes the most sense from a storytelling perspective.

Said perpetrator was born Robert Clive Napper on February 25th, 1966, and he was welcomed to the world at a maternity hospital in Erith, which is in South East London.

He was the eldest of four children with two younger brothers and a sister.

And on the surface, there was nothing particularly unusual about the family.