View of Stourbridge Common from Water Street c1960s (Arthur Condor)

Stourbridge Common, Cambridge

History of Stourbridge Common

Gasworks, demolished in 2001, visible.

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28 August 1914
A novel concert was given for men encamped on Midsummer Common: the motor launch Viscountess Bury was moored beside the bank at Stourbridge Common and its top deck used by the Magpies Concert Party was a platform. The launch was a pretty sight, decorated with vari-coloured lights and hundreds of men, including officers, sat on the sloping bank. Each song was enthusiastically enjoyed. The vicar of Chesterton gave an address during the interval and invited the men to attend Holy Communion on Sunday morning

Credit: Mike Petty Archive, Cambridge Chesterton Scrapbook, reference 1914 08 28.

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7 August 1942
Sharp attack on East Anglian town, few casualties; fire guards prove their worth; the most intensive raid, only four people slightly hurt. A few HE landed on open ground where they did not damage except to one cow that had to be destroyed. Many houses sustained direct hits from incendiaries but fire parties had the flames under control and NFS pumps were soon in action. Mr Story said he had just taken his young child from its cot when an incendiary crashed through the rafters and on to the empty cot. In another outlying part a ‘bread-basket’ of incendiaries fell in the road and damage by blast was caused to shop premises. Incendiaries were also scattered over other streets and little piles of sand testify to the efforts of the fireguards. Here and there a hole could be seen in the rafters of houses where bombs had scored direct hits. Charred window frames and little piles of scorched furniture outside were further evidence. One air raid warden returned home to find the house adjacent to his had been almost completely destroyed by fire. The new phosperous bombs were also dropped. [700 incendiaries dropped Chesterton, Unicam factory, Stourbridge Common Newmarket Road, Ditton Fields]

Credit: Mike Petty Archive, Cambridge Chesterton Scrapbook, reference 42 08 07.

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An extract from Age of Consent by Ian Rawlinson © Ian Rawlinson 2021 All rights reserved.

There is a sequence in my film which includes images of Stourbridge Common. This place has come to represent a kind of half-remembered state in which particular memories of childhood still exist and flourish. Throughout my time in Cambridge, the common was a crossing point and part of the journey to and from my grandmother’s house on River Lane, or visits to the skatepark, which used to be on Cheddars Lane. It was also where my brother and I would occasionally go fishing. At the time there weren’t any houseboats moored along this section of the river bank and the view across the Cam was quiet and unobstructed. Along the common’s eastern perimeter, the semi-enclosed footbridge that spans the railway line led to the unexplored mysteries of Ditton Meadows and Coldham’s Brook. This was the scene of childhood dreams and misadventures. The common also connected the village-like streets of Chesterton to the semi-dereliction of the industrial sites along Riverside and Newmarket Road. It was an emotional anchor and an axis.

On my way back from visiting my paternal grandmother, who lived on Rayson Way, I would often decide against cycling across the common, which would have been the quickest and most direct route home. As I stared into the evening darkness from the gate at the end of Oyster Row, fear would start to overwhelm me. If I made the crossing, I would have to stop at the base of the Green Dragon Bridge, open the metal gate and haul myself and my bicycle through onto the lower incline. There seemed no way to negotiate the narrow cattle grid beside the gate without potentially damaging the wheels on my bike. Otherwise, it may have been possible to ride straight through and onto the bridge, as it is these days. This brief loss of momentum allowed all manner of terrifying imaginings to seem like potential realities. I would be scared to look back as I thought I might see something appear from the unlit parts of the path. There was a solitary streetlight in the centre of the common which was the only respite from the darkness. Apart from that, there were trees, bushes, grass, shadows and occasionally a herd of cows. The fear was intense and palpable, and sometimes I made it across despite my racing heart and shallow breathing. Once onto the upper section of the bridge, I felt a degree of safety and was reassured that my ordeal was nearly over. Some nights I made it to the bottom of Garlic Row only to turn back and head down Newmarket Road to cross the river via the Elizabeth Way Bridge. Other nights I aborted before I even turned off of Newmarket Road, convinced that my flagging courage would not be enough to carry me across the common. This journey would always prove to be a challenge, in every sense of the word.