Cellarer’s Chequer

I went on a few tours by the brilliant and sadly deceased former road sweeper and tour guide Allan Brigham, and remembered a few “hidden places of Cambridge”, such as the sign near the Grafton Centre showing the location of an old women’s refuge, and how he said: “This shows the history of the real people of Cambridge, the people who are all but forgotten”. 

A few days later I put up a Facebook post specifically asking for ‘weird Cambridge sights’. That’s how I concluded that there are some people in Cambridge (or, in fact, any city) who have a favourite historical site or building. They probably assume everyone knows about it. They don’t. For example, I’ve known for a long time that the building at 25 Magdalene Street used to be a brothel, and you can tell this by the lurid carvings on either side. A friend took four of us on a ghost walk around Hallowe’en, and only two of the four had seen it before. One had lived in Cambridge for more than 40 years.

It was through this call-out for ‘weird Cambridge sites’ that I discovered the part of the old Barnwell Priory that still exists is the Cellarer’s Chequer on Priory Road, built between 1216 and 1235. The Cellarer was the person at the priory responsible for doing deals with local businesses, bartering for a good price for chickens and so on. Essentially though, it’s a medieval shed and was probably quite good at being a shed, as I assume it was used for shed-like activities whilst the surrounding Victorian housing was being built, meaning that it was never demolished.  

I found out that the ‘Most Haunted House in Cambridge’ (no doubt a disputed title) is the 17th Century Barnwell Abbey House, again built on the site of the priory, now full of Buddhists. 

Arbury, the housing estate where I live, full of unremarkable 1950s housing and teenagers on bikes, has a much more interesting past. When the building company Sindall Ltd were excavating for the housing estate in 1952 they found a huge Roman coffin, and it’s believed to be the site of a Romano-British cemetery.

I also heard the unfortunate tale of Elizabeth Woodcock. After a trip to Cambridge market and the Three Tuns pub on 2 February 1799, she was caught in heavy snow. She fell from her horse (was the pub visit something to do with this?) and ended up being buried in a snowdrift just outside Histon for eight days. She survived her ordeal, but died on 24 July that year. There is a monument to her in a field just off the guided busway between Orchard Park and Histon.

It led me and my mum to spend an hour or so on a Sunday morning searching for the grave of murdered teenage sex worker Emma Rolfe at Mill Road Cemetery. Although we didn’t find her, a friend of my mum knows where she is buried.

There is more to discover. For Christmas I got a book called Walking Cambridge by Andrew Kershman which uncovers more exciting stories of Cambridge’s history. There is also the website Capturing Cambridge https://capturingcambridge.org/ which is a hive of exciting stories of normal places and people. The best place to start, though, is to talk to people and see what they say.


About the Author
Caroline Mead was born and grew up in Cambridge, and works as a copywriter for the RSPB. Covid-permitting, she also enjoys choral singing, flute playing, bellydancing, ballet, running, walking, and discovering little-known parts of Cambridge. She has BAs from the Open University and the University of Birmingham, and an MA in Sociology from the University of York. She is also a qualified massage therapist.

Chesterton Tower

I grew up in Cambridge and have lived here permanently since 2006. I thought I knew it well. I was wrong. One of my most interesting lockdown activities has been discovering new parts of the city and new buildings.It started with a walk. Or rather, a Sunday lunch in a pub (on one of the few occasions in 2020 when that was possible), followed by a longer loop along the river to get home.

We walked along Riverside, intending to cut through Chesterton to our house in Arbury. For some reason, instead of going down Church Street as we usually would, my partner Chris suggested cutting down Chapel Street instead. There was no real reason for this, other than it was a Sunday afternoon and we had nowhere particular to be.

Halfway down Chapel Street, amid some unremarkable flats, was a building neither of us had seen before – what looked like an old miniature castle, nestled in the depths of Chesterton. It looked like it was on private land, but we had a look around and took some photos anyway. We saw the arrow slits and noted it was now a language school called Blue Bridge Education. When we got home, I put the photo on Facebook, asking if anyone knew what it was. It turned out it was the Chesterton Tower. The building dates from the mid-14th Century, when Chesterton was a royal manor.

Following the death of King John, the Barons, who had been in constant conflict with the King, invited a French prince to be king, in place of the then-7-year-old Prince Henry. Keen to avoid civil war, a papal legate Cardinal Guala came to England to arbitrate. Guala appointed Henry III to the throne. To show gratitude for this Henry gave the royal manor of Chesterton to Guala, with the Church of St Andrew. Guala then passed the gift to the Abbey of Vercilli. The abbot appointed a proctor, who was to live in Chesterton. This was the proctor’s house, and at the time it occupied the grounds of St Andrew’s church, though it is now a housing estate. A copy of Cardinal Guala’s portrait hangs on the wall of the south aisle of St Andrew’s Church.

In 1440, the pope agreed to transfer the church and the tower to King’s Hall, which became Trinity College. The 1959 Royal Commission Survey of Cambridge said of the building:
“The tower is a rare survival of a dwelling for the representative of England of a foreign appropriator and of much architectural interest despite the recent restoration.”

I’ve lived in Cambridge for 35 years. All these facts were completely new to me. Chesterton Tower is certainly not on any tourist trail that I’m aware of, and I can’t imagine it appears on many punt tours either. It struck me that if there can be a 14th Century palace hiding away in Chesterton, owned by Trinity College but largely ignored, there could be more such places …


About The Author
Caroline Mead was born and grew up in Cambridge, and works as a copywriter for the RSPB. Covid-permitting, she also enjoys choral singing, flute playing, bellydancing, ballet, running, walking, and discovering little-known parts of Cambridge. She has BAs from the Open University and the University of Birmingham, and an MA in Sociology from the University of York. She is also a qualified massage therapist.