The Horror of the 1,000 Year Old Bench

Or, Dangerous Life Being a Nerd

In the middle of Charing Cross Road, opposite the Montague Pyke public house, there is a steel grid between two bollards.  It's as normal as any other crossing at first glance, and thousands of people step over it daily.  But if you stop and look down it, you'll see something special.
Sure, you'll look like a nutter standing in the middle of the road stepping this way and that, all the while squinting at the ground beneath your feet, but it's worth it.  Beneath that grid, adorning the wall of an underground passageway, there is a street sign.
Mind blowing, huh?  An underground street!  That's like something out of a Neil Gaiman novel.  The sign reads 'Little Compton Street' and to simply behold it is to be open up to a much grander, more mysterious and magical version of our nation's capital.  Little Compton Street is, to put it one way, an extinct street.  The last map it appeared on was printed in 1799 and the surrounding area of Soho and Charing Cross Road has, in the ensuing decades, been built up to cover it.  It used to connect the still existent Old and New Compton Streets, but now it's gone.  But you can still see it, and it really is mind-blowing.
How did I find out about this?  I don't, however I may come across, spend my free time roaming London looking for hidden street signs.  In fact, I happened upon an interesting map of the capital while researching local ghost stories for my next novel.  The Map of London Peculiars is a fascinating little souvenir.  Eschewing the likes of the Tate Modern and the London Eye, it exists solely to alert the more adventurous tourist of some of the most unusual, unknown and macabre sights in central London.  Everything from a watch tower in Holborn built to look out for body snatchers to a bronze statue of Samuel Johnson's cat can be found on it, as well as the aforementioned street.  I'm a history nerd, I went to Shakespeare's birthplace on my birthday, deal with it.
It's great for me, I currently live in Central London due to a rather unique opportunity that came my way a few years ago.  The only time I'll ever get to live here again is if I somehow become a millionaire (I'm looking at you, Jet Tea), so I want to spend as much time getting to know every corner of the place while I can, before life throws me back into Wood Green or Hackney.
At the start of this wonderful heatwave, I found myself at a loss with regards to what to do on my day off.  My girlfriend was away and I had to be up too early the next morning to risk getting drunk, so I had a glance at my new map to see if there was anything of interest I could adopt as the endpoint of a nice afternoon walk.
The Ferryman's Seat, as it is known, adorns the side wall of a Greek restaurant between the Globe theatre and Southwark bridge on the South Bank.  The bench is haggard and eroded at the edges and can not be precisely dated, but is believed to have ancient origins.  It is understood that the Ferryman's Seat was used as a waiting point for sailors who would charge a small fee to ferry people across the Thames in the days when London Bridge was the only other way over the water.
This was right up my street; a 1,000 year old bench!  (Okay so I don't know if it's actually a thousand years old but it sounds cool so until science proves otherwise it's a thousand years old).  My day was set, I'd walk through Covent Garden, cross over Waterloo Bridge and stroll down the South Bank until I got to the bench.  Then I'd sit on it and join the pantheon of a hundred dead sailors, boast about it on facebook and go on my way in search of other curiosities.  Better take the map with me.

I went on my way, strutting enthusiastically through the busy streets of sunny London in my tatty old brown jacket, clutching geeky hope and a bottle of evian.  After some initial difficulty, I found the bench.
I could see why few are aware of the Ferryman's Seat; it's not so much a bench as a bit of a dent in the wall.  It's tiny, and, I'm ashamed to say, a bit of an anticlimax.  It clings to the side of The Real Greek taverna near the globe and atop an alleyway which incidentally leads to the site of the original Shakespearean theatre.
Despite my slight disappointment, I was glad I found it.  There's a small plaque reiterating what the map told me about it, and it does indeed look a thousand years old.
Should I sit on it?  I've come all this way, but it may look a bit weird.  There are lots of tourists swarming this way and that way and what would they make of a scruffy little loner virtually leaning on this poor excuse for outdoor seating?
Stop it.  Why do you care what these strangers think?  The same people you shove to the side for walking too slowly, and now you're worried they'll judge you for sitting on a bench?  People have been sitting on this bench for a thousand years!  Stop looking shifty and sit down for Christ's sake.
I sat down.  Even though the bench was small, it was deep-set enough to actually allow for a sort of sit-lean that wasn't enough to completely relax on but managed to take a bit of the load off my feet.
I took out my phone; boy will my friends be jealous of me!  I booted up the facebook app and wrote my update: 'Sitting on a 1,000 year old bench.  Highlight of my week.'  I pressed share and now the world knew what I was doing.  Just wait for the likes to roll in.
The deed was done.  My pilgrimage was fruitful and now I can forever say that I've sat on the same bench as someone who is currently a skeleton.  Maybe Shakespeare or the man who wrote his plays sat on it.  Who knows?  I stood up, looked around as I made up my mind of what to see next, and decided to start down the alley in pursuit of the original site of The Globe.
'Oi.'
I looked over my shoulder as I strolled; two police officers were trailing behind me, and obviously they were shouting at the chap ahead of me.  I shrugged to myself and carried on ahead, slightly picking up my pace as policemen instinctively make me nervous.
'Oi!'
I ignored them this time and carried on.  Why hadn't the man they were calling to stopped and looked around?  Ignorant fool.
'Oi!  Brown jacket!'
He wasn't wearing a brown jacket?  Oh.  Me!  What had I done?
I stopped and turned around.  The officers closed in on me, victorious in their chase.
'Something the matter officer?' I like to think I said.
'Can you tell us what you're up to?' one of them asked.
'I'm sorry?'
'What are you doing?'
'Just walking, why?'
'Well' the officer said.  'We've just seen you standing on that corner, looking shifty.  Then you leant against that wall and got your phone out to text someone, then ran off down this alley when you saw us coming.'
'I - I didn't-'
'So we'd like to know what's going on.'
'It's not like that!' I said.  My heart was pounding.  I hadn't been stopped by the police in years.  What's the best way to address someone in this situation?  'I just wanted to see the 1,000 year old bench!'
'The what?' asked the officer.
'The 1,000 year old bench' I repeated, pointing over to it.  'There's a 1,000 year old bench over there, where I was sitting.  It's amazing, you should really check it out when you get a chance.  Centuries ago, sailors used to wait there when London Bridge-'
'Okay' said the officer, interrupting me.
'Honestly' I said.  'I have a map, look.'  I fumbled around in my pocket and produced the map of peculiars, unfolding it, and pointed to the site of the Ferryman's Seat.  'See?  The Ferryman's Seat.  I'm not a drug dealer.'
The policeman took the map from me and looked at it.  I couldn't be sure but it seemed like he wanted to learn more about it and start his own historical London adventure.  But he had a job to do.  His colleague was writing something on a palm pad.  'Seems legit' he said.
'I just enjoy stuff like this' I said.  'It's what I do on my days off.'
'Fair enough' said the officer.  'Do you have any ID on you?'
I took out my wallet and opened it to get my driver's licence.  As I did so my ticket for Shakespeare's birthplace fell out of the wallet.  I took advantage.
'See?  I'm just a history nerd.'
The policeman grinned at his colleague, who was reading my driver's licence and writing on his palm pad.  'Have you been to the Globe yet?' he asked me.
'I've done the tour' I replied.  'And I've seen a show but I haven't seen any of William's plays yet.'
'I've not been' he said.
'Do you always work around here?' I asked, trying to keep conversation going and alleviate my nerves.
'Yeah' replied my captor.  'It's a nice area, eh?  But you can understand why we stopped you, there's a lot going on here.'
'Yeah I understand' I said.  'It's good that you lot are so on it that you can stop people who want to sit on benches.'
'Well, it's the mark of a good police officer' he replied.  'A good officer will see that, take note of every action, every movement and act on it.  I guess that's why we get to work here.'
I nodded.  'What's your colleague doing?'
'He just needs to do a check on you, make sure you haven't been arrested before.  Do you live round here?'
I'd been arrested for drunk and disorderly behaviour on my 16th birthday.  I hoped to God that wasn't on the record.
I nodded.  'Just over there' I said, pointing to Centre Point on the horizon.  'Soho.'
The policeman did that wide eyed face that everyone does when they find out where I live. 'Really?  What do you do?'
I told him.
'Okay' he said.  'Based on what we've seen we're not going to search you.  You've got a map, tickets to that Shakespeare place.  You're clearly just into your history.'  He turned to his colleague.  'Anything?'
'No.'
'Okay, you're alright.'  He handed my ID back to me.  'Enjoy your day off.  Where are you off to now?'
I sighed.  My nerdiness was more apparent to me than ever.  'I'm going to see the original site of the Globe theatre' I said reluctantly.  'They couldn't build the new one there because the land is privately owned.'
The policeman nodded.  'Alright then' he said.  'Have a good day.'
'You too' I replied and we parted ways.

I've been drunk in strange, unrecognisable lands.  I've stood on nasty street corners at 2am waiting to jump into the car of a stranger to spend money on something I shouldn't.  I've played gigs to audiences of people throwing chairs at me and calling me names and I've been beaten to a bloody pulp on several occasions.
But there is nothing more nerve-wracking than almost being arrested for sitting on a bench.