The Closed Shops of Mill Road

I'd noticed scaffolding had gone up in front of the building formerly inhabited by a Tesco. It had been empty for a while, the supermarket oligarch having finally given up the ghost in Mill Road. For many this was a welcome departure. A few years ago, the No Mill Road Tesco campaign was well organised and culminated in a large demonstration. The Tesco opened anyway. But with no alcohol licence and with limited local support, a few short years down the line its not that surprising that it has gone. It had failed  to compete with the long standing and more popular Mill Road Co-op. As a 'product' of the Co-op and so having inherited a possibly irrational semi-loyalty to it, I can't say I was sorry to see the back of Tesco. The building had potential. I had hoped that maybe in a street constantly bigging up its community credentials, somebody with more imagination, ingenuity and access to funds  than me might come up with a great plan. Maybe some sort of cultural venue, library, community repair shop or centre where people could go and interact without feeling like they have to buy an expensive coffee to pay for their seat. 

Of course, nothing of the sort has been proposed. Instead there is currently a planning application for a private MRI scanning facility. I hadn't been that optimistic that what would replace Tesco would be anything to get too excited about. But I had not foreseen something quite as far removed from what- might-have-been as the provision of a private health care facility. This seemed to me something wholly contrary to everything I regarded Mill Road as having once stood for, in particular on the Romsey side of the Bridge.

A bit of cursory investigation revealed the planning application was made by Moor Park Capital Next Gen Ltd.  Companies House records show the company is directed by somebody of Australian nationality who is resident in Thailand. The company is owned by Hamersley Private Limited of the British Virgin Islands. Who is behind the BVI company of course is not (and does not have to be) disclosed.

There have already been a few objections lodged against the plans on grounds of noise, traffic and because the proposed development is out of character with the conservation area. The current building can hardly be said to be of architectural merit, but does have essence of Mill Road about it. What the Council's decision will be is anyone's guess. The developers appear to have already started work regardless.

I took a stroll to observe other recent developments. Or more accurately in most cases lack of development. A number of shops that closed have remained dormant for some time, most since before or during the pandemic. They are frozen in time, creating interim liminal points in between the places that have remained active or in some cases been reactivated. These 'closed shops' are left behind in time and have become temporary relics of the 'before times'.

Opposite the former Tesco is a shop unit which has its windows completely covered in newspaper from the inside. It is not possible to see into the interior and no shop sign remains from its previous incarnation. The newspaper, the Cambridge News, dates from 29 October 2016. I have no memory of what type of business occupied the premises before that which was a realisation that I found quite disturbing.  Eight years is  quite a long time for a shop on a  thriving street to be closed which was something  not so much disturbing as plain odd. The static window display of old news reminded me how quickly places can disappear from memory. Even those previously celebrated are often soon forgotten after abandonment or replacement.

I was interrupted while perusing the archive  headlines by a man asking if I would mind helping with his sons A-Level geography fieldwork. I was happy to oblige, although was slightly perplexed that the Dad was doing all the talking. The son said nothing while I answered his Dad's questions. The questions were concerned mainly with access to state education in Cambridge with a view to University. I was disappointed not to have been asked about current issues around gentrification, active travel, traffic congestion and more specifically given what I was up to, the changing retail environment. I have no children so my knowledge about access to the best local schools is limited, but no doubt money, pushy parents and being in the right catchment area are still factors that have a significant impact on a kid's chances of getting into the best state schools, which is more or less what I told him was my perception.  

After he'd gone, I resumed reading the headlines.  The one that stood out the most was the imminent invasion of 'alien ladybirds'. It was the close up shot that exaggerated the alien-like features of one of these creatures that caught my eye. I don't recall any subsequent emergency involving ladybirds in 2016 or since, and hoped the current flap about African Hornets would turn out to be equally as non-eventful. Another headline concerned the council's determination to push ahead with the Dutch roundabout at the 'accident blackspot' where Fendon Road meets Queen Edith's way. That did go ahead and the reception has been mixed. Having traversed it a few times by foot, car and bike I'm not sure I noticed that much difference in terms of feeling more safe, but initially was considerably more confused about what I was supposed to be doing. Like flat pack furniture, it didn't come with very good instructions, but was easy enough to work out. The roundabout is still often argued about on local social media. The ladybirds on the other hand, are never spoken of.

A little further along, the Chicken Rush takeaway has seemingly been closed for much longer than it was opened.  It was an active concern for an even shorter period than the curry house that preceded it. I managed to visit both only once each, such was their limited tenure.  Prior to the curry house it had been a newsagent-cum-general store that was very useful and now is something lacking from Mill Road. The shutters of Chicken Rush were unusually open one side, suggesting some sign of life inside. But when I passed a couple of hours later to get my tea from the Co-op they were back down. Whether goings on behind the shutters signify an imminent resumption of some front of house activity remains a mystery.

I wandered down to the area of Romsey beyond Coleridge Road. The former Chick-King takeaway has been closed for several years as mentioned in a previous post. Since I last took any notice of it the takeaway signs had disappeared and some graffiti had appeared. The open windows indicated the building is still occupied as residential premises. I've heard nothing anywhere of plans for any new outlet of any sort here. 

I didn't go beyond 'Chick King' and headed back up the road.

I passed the former Romsey Town Labour Club with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. It remains (for now) a symbol of a more community spirited and cohesive Mill Road. The crumbling building appeared broken and resigned to its future development into short term 'apart hotel' type accomodation. Last year the City Council's Planning Committee refused an updated application for 43 serviced apartments on the site and said  the previously approved plan for 36 plus a gym and cafe could still go ahead.  But no development whatsoever has started to date and the building, including the facade which I think is supposed to be retained, is getting ever more dilapidated. Some remains of fly-posters pointing out what a great community space the building would make were still hanging on.  Nigel had added his stamp of support to that sentiment more recently on the boarded up front door, appropriately in red. 

Despite searching I can't find any recent update. A post by The Cambridge Town Owl 'Can we save Romsey Labour Club?'  back in April explains the lack of Council funding and powers mean that the building has little chance of a return to its former glory as a community asset. So  the answer to the question is almost certainly 'no'. The post also contains a bit of the history of the current planning application, as well a couple of random links to videos shot inside the club. One of these features a live set from 2012 by 'The Doozer', who was a local musician with connections to the 'Weird Folk' scene of the mid 2000s. He was behind Harvest Time promotions who put on several events in Cambridge featuring some of the leading lights of the 'New Weird America' wave of bands and others of similar ilk. This peaked with the Palimpsest Festivals at All Saints Church that ran annually from 2005 til 2007 (possibly beyond but I only remember three). Harvest time and the Doozer have since faded into the collective memory, having ceased operations some time back as far as I know. The random video was a reminder of what has been lost with the dissapearance of the Labour Club as a space to host arts and entertainment, as well as cheap beer, cheap cheese and onion sandwiches and conversation.

I crossed the road and walked up to Dutch's Corner. It was hard for some reason to get a good photo of the new development that recently replaced the Cambridge Bed Centre in its entirety. Before the Bed Centre, Frank 'Dutch' Holland's petrol station and prior to that Holland's bakery had occupied the site, hence the name 'Dutch's Corner'. The view above is a reflection from one of the windows of the shop/cafe that sits on the ground floor. Reflected from across the street is the shop recently vacated by Cutlacks, a hardware, kitchen and garden shop which had been a staple on Mill Road for years. I heard vague things about a planning application flats but have seen nothing substantial. The owner wanted to downsize and concentrate on his other shop in Ely. But he also cited the planned Mill Road Bridge closure and congestion charge as 'the last straw' and things which hastened his decision.

The shop/cafe at Dutches Corner sits beneath the flats that make up the bulk of the building. The block is unusually more reminiscent of decent 60s municipal housing than the usual sort of spreadsheet architecture we have come to expect from new developments. It was brown, not beige and of a proportionate size (although still too big for me to photograph without crossing the road, which I didn't bother to do). Around the back is a small development called 'Holland Row' that is owned by 'City Stay' and available for short let via Booking.com. The light coloured small flat roofed brick buildings were utilitarian looking but at the same time eliminated a kind of seaside/Mediterranean feel. Fitting perhaps for short term/holiday lets and symptomatic of the increasing 'destinisation' of Mill road. Two or three normal looking houses have been built on Ross Street, the backs gardens facing the serviced apartment buildings. These houses sit a bit awkwardly, not quite blending in with the existing Victorian stock. But overtime, this newness will probably fade into line with the rest of the street. The houses looked more like they would (or at least could) be occupied by people needing somewhere permanent to live, which is a good thing. The new Dutch's Corner Development is, as signified by a notice stuck onto one of the walls, owned and managed by HTS Estates Ltd, a long standing locally owned company rather than one with owners in tax haven. Also a good thing.

Back around the front I had a closer look at the shop/cafe. It didn't open on Mondays but I could see the menu. Sandwiches at £8.95, even with the addition of a BeefHeart tomato, seemed a bit extortionate for my wallet. I could get a BeefHeart CD for less than that in Fopp. It did have a cheese counter though so I may be tempted to make a return visit.

I carried on up the road to the Broadway. Here was another premises that had fairly recently become inert. The Sea Tree had been a more upmarket fish and chip shop, which opened a few years ago right next door to the existing ABC barbecue chip shop/kebab joint. The Sea Tree had a fire a few months ago that it has not recovered from. Rumours of inadequate insurance have been cited as the reason it hasn't been able to reopen. There has been no sign of any movement for several months.

The ABC Barbecue, while outlasting it's next door neighbour by a matter of weeks, has finally closed having changed hands. It is still operational as a kebab joint I think, so the use hasn't changed significantly, but the chicken spit in the window has finally gone along with the nostalgic ambience and the fish and chips. The old Kebab Leg sign though is still there, for the time being at least. No sign signifying the replacement name for ABC has gone up, giving an ominous air of temporariness about the new incarnation.

The Sea Tree was the final place in a state of limbo I encountered on the Romsey side of the Bridge. I crossed over into Petersfield.

At the bottom of the bridge, the old Mill Road Free Library building is still standing and still has the for sale notice on display. Some months back Centre 33, a charity working with young people, was shortlisted as the preferred bidder. But nothing seems to have happened yet and the building still appears in a limbo state. Prior to its closure it had been used by the Hindi community as the Bharat Bhavan Temple. Earlier this month, 'The Gateway To India'  was was officially opened up the road in Ditchburn Place Gardens. The structure had previously been part of the Bharat Bhavan temple, but following the end of the lease, it was saved from destruction by the efforts  of a local trader. What the future holds for building that once housed the 'Gateway' is less clear.

Over the road on the corner of Devonshire Road is another building in an in-between state. The second and third floors still appeared to be occupied and presumably are in residential use. But the ground floor, which I think was previously a reprographics business of some kind, has been empty a while. I couldn't remember how long for and when it was opened I barely noticed what was inside, which was strange given its prominent position on the corner. Now the ground floor at least has an air of abandonment. There is a pile of unopened post on the mat and what appears to be a collection of unwanted personal belongings inside. Graffiti has started to colonise the windows. I have seen no mention of any plans for the building anywhere. 

Across the street, just next to the butchers, are some fairly recently built short stay flats, again bearing the logo 'City Stay'. There has been talk of development of the Travis Perkins site next door for a while.  I had noticed that the Railway Cottages that sit between Travis Perkins and Mill Road Bridge, behind the butchers had their windows boarded up. The cottages provide accomodation for young people and one of the houses is used to house homeless people. Or at least did before the boards went up. The planned development, called 'Devonshire Gardens', shows the railway cottages remaining, but dwarfed by the modern architecture of the proposed new flats. The site is due to start development in 'Q4 2023' after Travis Perkins have left for pastures new and to be completed 2 years later. 

I carried on, passing two long standing limbo buildings that have stood dormant next to each other for several years now. Mickey Flynn's pool hall was active more recently than the former Quality fish Bar next door, but its been closed for several years. An attempt to open a Sainsburys supermarket on the site was thwarted when planning permission was refused following 4,500 objections. Ironically, soon after a Sainsburys, albeit one on a smaller scale, opened in the former Mace shop further up the road. Amended plans to turn Mickey Flynn's into a restaurant and flats were, as I recall, approved. But nothing has ever happened since so I might have misremembered. A cursory google search brings up nothing and the building remains stubbornly in stasis.

The former Quality Fish Bar next door is the Petersfield version of the Chick-King across the bridge. The building is apparently occupied as residential accomodation but that isn't immediately obvious and the place resembles an abandoned takeaway/restaurant. It last operated with added kebab, but I can only recall going in when it was an old school fish and chip shop of the sort that are rarely found in Cambridge now. The Chick-King had also been an old school chip shop called The Belgrave around the same time. Both I think had the same owner, which probably accounts for the similar current use as ghost chip shop accomodation.

 

Meanwhile, opposite the now ghostly and precarious burnt out remains of H Gee is hidden behind the boarded up facade. I noticed I had been preceded once again by 'Nigel', who I assumed must have been carrying out his own survey of the liminal sites of Mill Road. The former Roll On Blank Tapes, down Gwydir Street just opposite, had recently been boarded up. It had been said that Mr Gee had lived there. I don't know if that was true or if he still does. I wondered if the boarding up of Roll On Blank Tapes signified something ominous. The loss of the H Gee emporium of electrical gadgetry meanwhile was a significant change and seemed to herald a new era on Mill Road and not necessarily a better one.

On the corner of Tenison Road two dormant premised face each other. The former premises of Culinaris Deli (not photographed) has been closed for a relatively short time and the business has moved up the road to bigger premises previously occupied by Lloyds Bank, on the corner of St. Barnabas Road. I didn't think this warranted inclusion as the business still exists and the site has not been dormant for long (maybe a year?). But while I stood on the corner, memories came back of the long standing Chinese Takeaway that once occupied the building. The Rice Boat was its last incarnation and while this was still an old school chinese takeaway, complete with a large formica encased television permanently on in the corner, it was  its predecessor The Jade that appeared in my mind. The Jade was a seemingly timeless presence while I was growing up and well into the 1990s. It had a small restaurant at the back, which I think was where my first ever sit-in Chinese meal happened. I remember being a bit shocked  at the relatively extortionate eat in price  compared to  the (same) food available for takeaway. The Jade had some connection to The Times, another established Chinese Takeaway on Cherry Hinton Road. One of my friends nannas had a calender in her kitchen featuring  the names of both establishments, which she had obviously obtained from one of them. They presumably shared ownership. The Times was the first place I ever had a Chinese Takeaway from, so theres another connection between the two. Mill Road now has no now old school Chinese Takeaways of the formica TV variety, having hosted several over the years. But it does have The Spring, which although no TV, has almost certainly better quality food. But memories of the Jade and the Lotus House, and a lesser extent the Taipei, live on.  A friend of mine found a quantity of old menus when clearing his mums house featuring some of Cambridge's finest lost Chinese Takeaways and Indian Restaurants. Judging by the prices, they mostly dated from the 1980s, which is the era I first encountered takeaway food and which was one where Cambridge had a prolific array of such places.

Shaking myself out of an unhealthy moment of nostalgia and the craving for a Times chicken fillet curry that came with it, I focused my attention on the opposite dormant premises. This had been Music And Digital Village,  more recently known as  'DV 247'. The shop had sold musical instruments and associated equipment. Apparently it was part of a chain which suffered during the financial crises. As with many of the other places mentioned already, I can't recall exactly when it closed nor know what plans (if any) there are for the future of the shop.

Beyond the former DV 247, on the townward stretch, I saw no more 'closed shops' until I got to the site of Fagitos. This has been closed since the pandemic and had a sign saying it was 'opening soon' as a Greek restaurant for so long that I'd assumed that it was never going to happen. But it seems it is. The people behind it are apparently the same family. 'Mr Fagito' as we thought of him has I imagine has retired and passed on the business. On the 'Fagitos Albania' Facebook page, he is also referred to as Mr Fagito. The last communication from 27 April 2020  ended with: To celebrate the launch of the schedule, I will be giving away an all inclusive trip for two to Parkside Pools. All you need to do is comment 'Mr Fagito you're so ripped' on this post. Good luck! The page is almost certainly does not feature messages from the real 'Mr Fagito' despite its superficial appearance as the official means of communication of the previous takeaway incarnation.

The frontage is now unrecognisable. I wasn't sure if the undercoat had still yet to be painted over or if there had been a localised outbreak of Grey Plague. It looked likely that the new Fagitos was going to a different proposition to the infamous late night Takeaway that almost certainly invented Spicy Potatoes and remains Mill road's most celebrated outlet of its type (with the possible exception of Carlos). The new Fagitos will, I guess, need to cater for the demands of the new Mill Road and so no doubt will be different. But the name will live on. And with a bit of luck the spicy potatoes.

The final site I checked out was the building that was once well known for being the Ann Pettengel Bureau. At least it was well known to Cambridge cinema goers during the 1980s, when it featured in the reel of adverts for local businesses.  My main recollection  was the representation of the building itself in a graphic, almost cartoon form, with the businesses logo above. I think I was too young to realise that a recruitment agency was a gateway to office toil and all that entailed. Instead, I recall at the time that the representation of the building had a slightly magical quality about it but I can't remember exactly why. Ann Pettengel left Mill Road some years ago and now operates from Cowley road business park on the Northern periphery of Cambridge.  Recently the Mill Road site was used as offices for for an insurance company, but at the time of the walk was almost ready to reopen after a short gap as offices for Home Instead, a social care franchise operation.

It stuck me as a bit of an odd place and an unnecessarily large building for offices of a social care company.  Also locating where rents are I imagine  unfavourable for a business which could easily be located on a cheaper site seemed an odd move. At first I had assumed it was going to be an actual care home which would have made more sense. The only explanation I could think of that it would only serve local people within walking distance or cycling distance and its carers would  not have to dive anywhere-even to get to work. That seemed unlikely. But I'm not a business person, so what do I know. I was glad though to see the building still the same shape as in the one in  old cinema adverts and was also glad it has been occupied by something that will bring some social benefit, unlike its counterpart over the bridge at the former Tesco should the MRI scanner plan come to fruition.

I finished my amble back at the former Tesco site, noticing that only one of the four cars that had been parked up before was still there. Activity was at a standstill.  

Shops, restaurants, takeaways, pubs and other businesses have come and gone over the years along the road. Some have been fleeting, barely noticed or remembered. Others have been well established and long serving and when gone remain in faded form in the collective memory. Several of the 'closed shops' seen today though seemed to belong to a different phenomena to the normal ebb and flow of businesses closing and opening. The duration many have been in limbo seems counter to all the talk of the street as a thriving  'destination'. Maybe they are biding their time, pending decisions on the bridge closure and congestion charge before deciding what to turn into. Maybe difficulties with planning permission or lack of funds are the causes of stasis. Maybe they are the victim of the general change in the retail environment due to increasing automation and online buying, coupled with the cost of living crises reducing the viability of retail, even in well off places. 

Whatever the reasons, the 'closed shops' seemed to me symbolic of the current division of opinion about the bridge closure and more widely congestion charge. At the time of writing, the Fiends of Mill Road Bridge have launched a legal challenge against the decision to close the Bridge that has delayed the closure.  Last week a woman was reported in the Cambridge Independent as saying she would 'self identify as a bus' if fined for driving over the bridge. Meanwhile,  pressure groups on the other side of the debate are citing statistics gleaned from the recent Greater Cambridge Partnership consultation to back up their arguments. 72% of just under 2,000 respondents said they were in favour of restricting traffic over the bridge. Whether that figure, based as it is on only a fraction of the number of people living in Romsey and Petersfield, is representative of the true feeling of the majority of the population or if it should be regarded as the result of just another 'non-sultation', is anyone's guess. But until things move on for good or ill, the more long standing of the 'closed shops' of Mill Road will probably remain in limbo.

 

View from the Bench: Mill Road

The almost total removal of Covid restrictions, for the time being at least, had been heralded by ‘Freedom Day’. I cautiously felt that the grip of the pandemic was finally loosening. At least for the time being. The beginning of the end and the beginning of whatever the ‘new normal’ would look like. 

 

I had been wandering along Mill Road, the main street in the vicinity, on most days during the pandemic. For the majority of the period, Mill Road Bridge had been closed to through traffic as part of an Emergency Traffic Order to help social distancing on the street. The bridge closure and its associated ‘build outs’ initially seemed to bring about an atmosphere of almost static interregnum, layered on top of the already existing Covid-induced pause in everyday life. But as restrictions eased, the street became gradually more populated. At the same time, a noticeably different feel emerged, in comparison to that of the pre-covid era. Random encounters with friends and acquaintances and sightings of familiar faces were (still) much rarer than before. I recognised barely anyone among those on the street or in the shops. Nor among those sitting outside the cafes and restaurants that had installed additional tables on the pavements. Things were different to ‘the before time’. The phenomena that seems most symbolic the changes is the orange Voi e-scooter, a thing barely known of pre-pandemic but now ubiquitous. Its arrival, among a plethora of other electric powered bikes and mopeds, seemed to herald a significant shift in time and place, as if the street had fast forwarded a few years, rather than a few months.

I decided it was time to take stock. I had been walking the street most days, but really in a getting from A to B way, not properly noticing. Rather than just walk, I decided to include a static form of observance on one of Mill Road’s benches. There are a handful dotted along the road and I had a vague plan that having a ‘sit’ for a period on each of these. Maybe using them all over a period of time would allow me to properly immerse myself. A sort of immobile psychogeography. There were several options. There are benches around the Romsey R, one on top of Mill Road Bridge and some outside the Co-op. There are probably others I’ve never noticed. I elected though, to go to the bench on the corner of Coleridge Road.

The bench sits at a four way Junction with traffic lights with Hemingford Road opposite Coleridge Road, and Mill Road passing through the middle. It is somewhere most people probably walk by without paying too much attention. I couldn’t remember ever stopping and sitting here, or lingering in the vicinity. But when I arrived soon found myself in a place that seemed to exist in an almost separate enclave. The bench backs onto a wall, next to a couple of bins and green telecoms boxes. On the wall are two utilities markers. There are several manhole covers on the ground, including a series of concrete grey ones surrounded by tall flowering hollyhocks.

Upon sitting on the bench among these utilitarian objects and (possibly) random selection of plant life, I soon felt like I was in a sort of liminal spectator zone, where I could exist as unnoticed as the telecoms boxes. 

 

Across Coleridge Road was the yet-to-be developed old Romsey Labour Club building. It still exists in its own liminal space surrounded by an area of decaying concrete floor and wild edgelandic vegetation. The windows are now boarded and graffiti is starting to emerged on the crumbling brown walls. But other than that, it remains in a similar state to the last time I mentioned it, in a previous blog from the beginning of the bridge closure just over a year ago. I don’t know what is preventing the development into serviced apartments, which was approved over two years ago now. I suspect the task will be easier for the developer once the building has collapsed of its own volition, particularly the facade which is meant to be retained. But for now at least, I could savour the building, which despite its sorry state, is still one of Mill Road’s best features.

The Labour Club was once the epicentre of Red Romsey or Little Russia and no doubt built to last. But its demise is symbolic of those terms being irrelevant in contemporary Romsey, as the forces of change and gentrification march ever onwards. The building is an outcrop of an otherwise buried layer of Mill Road’s history. As I observed from the bench, a black and white spray-painted Joe Strummer looked on enigmatically from the corner of one of the boarded up windows, while the Coleridge Road sign was being slowly engulfed by vegetation. The only new feature I noticed, other than the street art, is a road sign. This shows the traffic restriction due to the bridge closure to the right. Meanwhile any would-be bridge crossing cars are diverted to the left, down the stretch of Mill Road that seemed least affected by the changes brought about by Covid and the bridge closure. I reflected that the Mill Road Winter Fair, which in pre-Covid times saw the road closed for the day in December, also usually ends at this junction, leaving the leftward stretch as the only part of the road open to traffic. I wondered if the fair would be extended on its pre-Covid return to include the small number of businesses along this usually forgotten part of the street, along with a chance to visit the impressive mosque which I’m not sure was open in time for the last Mill Road fair.

My attention wandered from the Labour Club, across the road to the Romsey Mill. At the same time, I began to settle into the micro-environment afforded by the bench. I became dimly aware of the background sounds of car engines, as they waited at the lights next to where I sat before slowly moving off. This sound became repetitive, almost unnoticed and strangely soothing. It became a sort of aid to noticing. Outside Romsey Mill was a tall conical tree, part obscuring the building, and behind it another bench. I had never noticed either of these objects before and wondered how on earth that was possible. The Romsey Mill serves as the local polling station and to vote is the only time I’ve ever set foot in it. It is the home of a Christian based charity that started in 1980, in the building that was formerly a Methodist chapel. I noticed two blocked up apertures next to the main door; a small bricked up arched window and just below that, too low for any sort of normal window to have existed, was a brown oblong, a 1970s sideboard had been inserted to occupy the space and fitted perfectly.

I shifted to observing the people passing by. There was a random and rich diversity among those that I noticed. An enigmatic, sage-like ageing man with what looked like a kit-bag drifted by, possibly on a Saturday morning derive of his own. Maybe just going to the shops. A singing man with dreadlocks went by on a bike, I heard him before I saw him. He looked oblivious and carefree, in comparison to a group of hipster-types who’s man-bun attempts to a similar direction were clearly carefully and self-consciously curated. They were outnumbered by the number of old ladies I saw, heading towards the broadway utilising a range of mobility aids from the walking sticks to the full on electric mobility scooters. These were the pioneers in the new age of electric transport. I only witnessed one Voi scooter, but several white vans. As I became even more settled in my bench enclave and reached a point of imagined invisibility, the background engine sounds aided an almost meditative state.

After a while I became aware of a distant chanting, coming from the direction of the bridge. This slowly roused me and I remembered that there was a protest due to take place, organised by the traders and others from the pro-bridge reopening faction. As mentioned previously the bridge closure had caused controversy and division. The County Council were due to vote the following week to decide whether to keep the bridge closed or reopen it, while a period of consultation took place. The bridge had initially been closed with no consultation, one followed some time later but was disregarded, due to concerns that the councils consultation system allowed the same people to comment more than once. The traders saw this protest as a last stand. As their voices grew louder, I was roused from my immersive state and curious to know what was going on up the road. I realised I had only been on the bench for around twenty minutes but it felt like a lot longer. I wrenched myself into a standing position, then removed myself from its immersive atmosphere, as I passed beyond the hollyhocks and manhole covers. I looked back to the bench and its surroundings, a segment of space that was almost tangibly separate and off-kilter from its immediate surrounds, I felt like it was a protected and protective space.

 

The protest was in full swing as I passed it crossing the bridge. There were chants, with the aid of megaphones of ‘one Mill Road, one community’. Meanwhile, the Romsey City Councillor, Dave Baigent, a vocal pro-closure proponent, stood among the protestors in silence. The scene was a microcosm of the division the bridge closure had created and the chanting seemed almost anacronistic.

Further down the road was a delegation of people from the pro-closure faction, specifically from a group called ‘Mill Road 4 People’. This group had sprung up relatively recently with a professional looking website showing quite detailed ideas for how the bridge could stay closed and asking for views to help make this work. There has been much speculation as to who might be behind the group, with the finger being firmly pointed by several social media commentators at Cam Cycle, a vocal pro-bridge closure lobbying group. While the rhetoric and ideas of both groups seem very similar, I don’t know whether this is true. As I passed through the delegation, one of them stopped me and handed me a leaflet. I expressed my reservations around keeping the bridge closed. I asked what about the traders claims that they were seeing a fall in takings. This was brushed off, and it was pointed out that several new business had opened during the closure and these would attract more to open as footfall increased. I wondered though, who were these new businesses for and whose feet would be falling? The emphasis was largely on the more artisan end of the food market, even beyond this to include something called a ‘Fish Butchery’, which struck me as something beyond pretentious.

My earlier fears, which had dissipated earlier in the protective environment of the bench, returned. The street was in danger of becoming something beyond the parody of Nathan Barley, with its various forms of e-scooter transport gliding along the road, a proliferation of serious faced joggers and high end eateries with outside seating becoming ever more prevalent, making ambulatory activity that bit more awkward. I wondered if the solution to Cambridge’s pollution and traffic problems had to be the imposition of a ‘continental cafe culture’ and the creation of a destination resembling Hoxton aspiring to be Hampstead in Mill Road, which is what many on the pro-closure side seemed to be pushing for. Certainly, the Covid-era seems to have accelerated a move towards such an environment. It was probably on the cards anyway, but the shift has been stark in its rapidity. I felt like I had been suffering from ‘Future Shock’ over the last few month as a result. As I moved along the street, it didn’t help when I noticed Fagitos was still ‘closed for refurbishment’. I wondered if it would ever really re-open and of so in what form. The legendary late night kebab joint has been unrivalled since the 1990s and is one of Mill Road’s most iconic institutions, but has been closed for months. This seemed an ominous portent that the direction of travel was set for good. There would be no return to the comfy, slightly grubby Mill Road of ‘the before time’.

As I retracted my steps, I passed by the protestors banner still standing at the foot of the bridge. ‘Open The Bridge. Consult!’ its shouted. In my deflated state, the banner seemed to express the futility of any attempt to prevent the worst extremities of gentrification imposing a more sterile and expensive version of Mill Road. But at least the bench was there, unaffected, at least for now.

 

Footnote: The week after the walk/bench sit, the County Council voted to re-open the bridge while a period of consultation takes place. I can’t say I’ve noticed the traffic get much busier as a result but I suppose it is the school holidays. I’ll find another bench to try out during this next stage of flux, until the next stage of the bridge saga.

Mill Road: Walking in the midst of pandemic

The strange times brought about by the pandemic, in particular the spatial limitations and impact on movement associated with social distancing , have produced a lot worth documenting from a walking and psycho-geographic perspective.  I’ve been walking quite a bit, walking differently and more locally than pre-pandemic and the way I’ve operated has shifted slightly along with the ever-confusing changes to the lockdown rules. Things have become less clear as things have progressed and time has become more elastic. Some days the time before the pandemic seems an age ago, other times like last week. Movements in space are now a bit less limited than they were are the start, but limited nevertheless. It feels like we are in a slowly evolving stasis, drifting towards whatever exactly ‘the new normal’ turns out to be.  

I’ve noticed local places differently and discovered some nearby corners I didn’t know existed during my restricted perambulations. But a parallel consequence of the changes imposed on everyday life during the Covid-era is an almost overwhelming sense of digital fatigue, much more acute than before.  Working from home all day, followed by trying to keep in touch with friends and elderly family members via the ever-growing plethora of digital communication channels, simultaneously being faced with a diet of increasingly wearing Covid news, comment and debate via every digital orifice, has made an escape to the sanctuary of analogue leisure activities more desirable than ever. A friend of mine’s 80-year-old mum commented to him that she ‘didn’t like these talking photographs’ when she was forced to participate in a Zoom meeting. He wondered if she’d never heard of television. But the digital world’s drain on time and energy seems a thousand times that of what television could ever manage. There are far more benefits too, which makes it that much harder to escape. It was always much easier to 'Turn of the Televsion and do something less boring instead'. Under these conditions, blogging has felt like another digital chore and despite a couple of false starts, since my last post near the start of lockdown I just haven’t been arsed.

But recent events on Mill Road have shook me out of my blogging lethargy. I’ve also had a week off which has massively reduced the digital burden. A couple of weeks ago, an experimental traffic scheme was implemented, limiting traffic over Mill Road Bridge to buses, bikes and pedestrians. Along the road each side of the Bridge, road widening measures have been put in place. These roadworks-like plastic barriers extend into the street at several points, but lack the traffic signals usually provided with roadworks. The stated purpose of the scheme is to allow social distancing and so help make it safer to get around on foot. The temporary widened pavements are intended to provide places where people walking can avoid others by passing at a safe two metere distance or even stopping to wait, a bit like how car passing places work in country lanes. The scheme is one of around 90 measures Cambridgeshire County Council have implemented to support ‘Cycling and Walking in the midst of pandemic’. These measures have been put in place using ‘emergency active travel fund’ money granted from Central Government and by the implementation of ‘experimental traffic orders’. Apparently, the funds had to be used within eight weeks and the schemes put in place without delay, so there was no time for public consultation.

On the day the Mill Road scheme was due to be implemented, I heard loud car horn noises through the open back door. I took a ‘screen break’ and walked down to the bridge where a protest was in full swing. The Mill Road Traders Association had organised the event with the honking being provided by taxi drivers filing across the bridge in support. The bridge was otherwise blocked by the traders and other protestors who had come out to register opposition to the scheme and annoyance at the lack of consultation . When the bridge closed last year, Mill Road Traders reported their takings suffering significantly despite (or probably in their view because of) the efforts of the ‘Mill Road Summer’ attempt to turn Mill Road into a car free utopia with parklets. The almost concurrent Gee's Fire didn't help either. This year, the three months of Covid lockdown has been another major blow and as restrictions begin to ease, traders were no doubt hoping for business to begin to return to some sort of normality.

Debate started on social media as soon as the scheme was announced, which was only few days before it was due to be introduced. Those opposed included, as well as the Mill Road Traders, tradespeople living off Mill Road reliant on vehicles for gardening, window cleaning, plumbing etc, disabled people, the elderly and others who rely on taxis or cars for various reaasons. Many residents were annoyed not just at the the lack of consultation, but also what they saw as a ridiculous scheme that would produce a knock-on effect of increased traffic on parallel roads, particularly Coldhams Lane. Meanwhile, others supporting the scheme cited reduced fume and noise pollution, as experienced in early lockdown, along with the need for a low carbon future. Feeling safer cycling and walking with less traffic, and an increase in footfall and therefore spending in shops (despite most of the traders saying the opposite) were other reasons given in support. There was even some (often heated) discussion about the ability of the scheme to influence the ability and willingness of people to social distance better, which, after all,  was it's main stated purpose. Several people expressed the view that the scheme was the result of  significant influence from the Cambridge Cycling Campaign and alliances it has with County and Local Councillors, with the facilitation of social distancing being a convienient cover to introduce something that had been cooked up some time back before the pandemic. The local Labour MP didn’t go that far, but told The Cambridge Independent that the scheme was 'ill thought through'.

I was sucked in to observing the debate on Facebook, Twitter and local forums, particularly 'Nextdoor' where most debate has raged. The discourse, while presenting valid arguments from both sides, soon began to show clear divisions in how people saw and felt about Mill Road and what it was for.  Some viewed the imposition of the scheme and the enthusiasm that several of its proponents had for the potential of it to bring about a 'continental cafe cuture' with skepticism. They were happy with Mill Road as it is (was?), still slightly scruffy around the edges, a little noisy and a bit chaotic. A place refreshingly different from the blandness found in the City Centre, to which Mill Road has always been a major route while at the same time serving the sizable residential zones of Romsey and Petersfield either side of the Bridge. The other extreme of the debate was personified by a tweet clearly in favour getting rid of all traffic on the road to facilitate a much more sanitised, if  'safer'; and less polluted, Mill Road; one which would change the role of the road as a major route and instead facilitate the 'continental cafe culture' and the street becoming a 'destination'. The tweet presented two short scenes filmed in Broadway Market in Hackney, before and after Hackney Council had imposed an emergency Covid through traffic ban. The second scene, after the ban, featured people milling around in the street, with the occasional entitled jogger barging their way through and some other people attempting to cycle amongst the pedestrian throng. The tweeter thought this was a marvellous development that Mill Road should seek to emulate. But I was sceptical.

Broadway Market is yet another part of East London that has been subject to rampant gentrification. This had already started to creep in by 2006 when the events depicted in the film ‘The Battle of Broadway Market’ took place. The eviction of traders by the Council, despite the gallant attempts of the local community to resist,  sparked a sudden accelaration of the process as developers got the upper hand and locals were marginalised. This led me to another more recent film, The Street, where a similar story is told about Hoxton Street. Both streets, like many others in East London, were once thriving East End Markets before declining in the 70s, with dilapidation accelerated by Thatcher’s right to buy as many of those council tenants that could, bought up, sold up and moved out. Now these areas have seen extreme gentrification, or as the Pie and Mash shop owner in Hoxton Street calls it, ‘Poncification’. Property prices are at the extreme end and the shops and cafes cater for a new demographic. Mill Road has been subject to creeping, if not such extreme, gentrification on a similar timeline to Hackney, as Local historian Alan Bringham’s account of various lives through the decades documents. I couldn’t help wonder if, as several residents comments suggested, that the imposition of the emergency traffic scheme on Mill Road would be a catalyst for an acceleration towards a much more ‘poncifified' version of Mill Road, whether this was the intention of various interested groups or not. A major shift of one sort or another seems an inescapable outcome of the Covid-era. I suppose inevitable that where they can people are going to try and influence and take advantage of whatever the 'new normal' turns out to be, on Mill Road and everywhere else.

A couple of days after the protest and watching these films I went for a walk to survey the scene.

I crossed the bridge from Romsey to Petersfield. I took heed of the yellow sign and used the pavement opposite. This seemed to me a fairly straigtforward to understand and observe social distancing measure for most people to follow. Much easier to understand than many of the more recent Government edicts. These yellow signs pre-dated any talk of the newly imposed traffice restrictions. But  having crossed the bridge most days since the yellow signs emerged, usually I've been faced with somebody coming towards me, transfixed by a mobile phone or just apparently bissfully ignorant. An informal addendum on one of the signs suggests  that crossing the road will 'put our lives in danger of traffic'. But people had seemed to struggle with the concept at an earlier stage of lockdown when danger from traffic was minimal. That any additional social distancing measures from the new scheme will help people tear themselves away from their screens, or shake them out of complacency to make them 'stay alert',seemed a bit optimistic to me. The new 'pavement widening' measures on the bridge were being mostly ignored and unused by people I encountered on the bridge and elsewhere. Similarly, many were ignoring one way signs in shops, refusing to be herded, even if for their own good. To be fair, even with the best intentions it's not always easy to stick to the rules, which bring various challenges for different people and have become harder to observe since the various 'easements' to lockdown have been announced.

Over the Bridge, I crossed over the boundary into Petersfield. Passing the roadworks that had sprung up on the corner of Gwydir Street, then soon after the roadworks-like pavement widening measure around the bus stop next to the former Durham Ox, I reached Ditchburn Place. The fence around Ditchburn Place these days is often subject to the same sort of flyposting that you get in the centre of town. Lamitanted notices are tied onto the fence with plastic tags. The old sort of fly-posters stuck onto walls with glue are a distant memory in Mill Road, killed off when the Mace shop, which had shutters festooned with glued on adverts for gigs and other events, was closed and re-emerged as a Sainsbury's local. Corporate chains have failed to take hold so far on Mill Road and this is one of very few, so far anyway. The laminated notices that have replaced the old school flyers, even when not advertising something and when apparently unofficial, seem somewhat sanitised. The one above, which appeared as the new scheme was announced, is annoyed about the prospect of more polution on Mill Road. It doesn't make it clear if more pollution is ok on other roads, and whether the pollution from Mill Road should be displaced elsewhere to less favoured streets or irradicated entirely for the benefit of all. I wondered if the 'more' bit of the notice refers to the Iron Works, a new residential development currently in progress on the old Council Depot site. 50% of the homes will apparently be council rented homes, by which I assume they mean council housing in the traditional sense but there could be a catch in the small print. Inevitably people have raised concerns about the potential of the new homes to increased traffic, as they always do. I would have thought homes in town might allow people to walk to work reducing traffic and pollution, rather than have to drive into town from one of the new satellite 'towns' like Northstowe. So  maybe instead people are worried about more polution from those who will have to drive into Mill Road to work in minimum wage jobs servicing the 'continental cafe culture' from 'affordable' housing estates located in peripheral areas several miles out of town with insufficient public transport and too far away to reasonably cycle from.

Another notice showed a Boris Johnson with a barnet even more alarming than normal, resembling  Thatcher Perm, while clapping at the prospect of yet another public sector pay freeze. The juxaposition of these two notices made me wonder about how many people in Petersfield were reliant on carers, not just those in Ditchburn Place, but in the wider community. Carers are normally reliant on cars to get to their clients, some of whom will live in Petersfield and Romsey. The chances of people employed in the caring profession being able to afford to reside in the vicinity of Mill Road (or most places in Cambridge) is minimal. The inevitablity of increased car pollution from people working in these type of jobs, whose services are in increasing demand but who have to drive to and during work, is a conundrum Cambridge continues to face. The answer, other than the odd development like the Ironworks, mainly appears to have been to upgrade the A14 and build dormitaries like Northstowe. The conundrum looks set to remain ever unsolved.

Ditchburn Place Gardens date from 1990, a time when these sorts of concerns were less accute. The function of the building is old peoples residential care. It was was originally the site of a workhouse, located deliberately far away from the University in an area which at the time was still fields. In the early 20th century it morphed into a hospital and later became a matertiny hospital. I, and many of my friends, entered the world here in the early 70s. In later life I suppose I could end up back there if it hasn't changed function again, but it could be serviced appartments by then.

This side of the bridge has retail units along one side with flats upstairs and is largely residential on the other. A sizable portion of the retail units are restaurants or takeaway food outlets of some kind, pretty much all independent. There are various small food shops and supermarkets of different varieties as well as a number of other businesses.  Some of these places have been established for many years such as Fagitos (excellent chicken kebabs) and Bachenalia (ne The Jug and Firkin). Others are newer, and while a churn of businesses is nothing new, the first signs of a significantly more upmarket 'offering' (or what the Pie and Mash man would call 'poncification') have started to show themselves. On the positive side, corporate chains on the other hand,  have so far failed to get much of a footing at all.

Fears of businesses closing due to Covid do not seem to have manifested on this bit of Mill Road so far. The several empty, or apparently empty, retail premises pre-date the epedemic. I'm not certain why some of these spaces hadn't been filled before. Maybe the landlords have been biding their time, waiting until they can take part in the next phase of Mill Road, hoping to maximise rents to incoming high-end cafe culture proprietors. I'd already passed the cafe that had replaced the much missed Golden Curry, and which seems to represent a shift towards this trend. To be fair, the cafe looks like an improvment on the failed wine bar that preceeded it and lasted only a matter of months, possibly indicating that Mill Road is not quite ready to accomodate what in the 1980s would be seen as a yuppie enclave. It's proximity to The White Swan, one of the areas most down to earth boozers, always seemed like an uneasy juxtaposition.

A building that has remained empty for a while now is the former Salavation Army charity shop. This used to be a Fine Fare supermarket frequented by my Nanna. Before that it was the Playhouse Cinema, which closed in 1956. This was one of two cinemas on Mill Road, the other was the Kinema which was next to the affore mentioned Durham Ox pub. The building itself is a rare example of concrete new town-esque architecture,  presumably dating from when the facade of the cinema was removed in the 1950s. I wondered if it will survive future developments in it's present form or if it might be demolished to make way for another block of serviced apartments with 'retail opportunities' on the gound floor. That would be a shame, but seems to be the way of things in the world of contemporary development. But for now at least, with it's apex bifurcated by a mysterious silver post, the grey conrete facade and slightly lighter grey band of mosaic tiling, it is a portal back to the street in the 1950s.

A little further along the ghost sign of Barneys is visible. Barneys was a sort of cheapo clothes shop notable for selling school uniforms and 'seconds'. I recall the proprietor was a bizarre character sporting a large grey beard and wearing a three piece suit, he may have hat a top hat but that could be my memory playing tricks. I don't recall him ever speaking, just appearing suddenly and drifting around the shop. In my memory he resembled a cross between Mr Benn and Snowy Farr. Barneys closed some years ago and I think then became Mike's Bikes. After a spell being empty it is now a restaurant, which looks particularly high end but farily inconspicuous. Before lockdown it had just about opened up.  The juxtaposition with the neighbouring Penguin Dry Cleaners, one of Mill Road's oldest surviving  businesses and one that caters to the 'ordinary', struck me a representative of the interim period between the pre and (possible) post Covid Mill Road, and symbolic of a transition where a new shiny and exclusive version of the street is trying to force its way through the old familiar comfy skin.

Student accomodation has always been a feature of Mill Road. Traditionally (well, for quite a while),  significant numbers of students from Anglia Ruskin University and some post-grad Cambridge University students, as well as many younger working people, have lived in  homes of multiple occupancy in the area. This is something that gets whinged about considerably as being at the expense of family homes and the cause of parking and noise problems. But it's also been a significant contributory factor to the vibrancy and uniqueness of Mill Road. These people have always been heavy users of the eateries on Mill Road and back street pubs in the area as well as the more 'daytime' businesses. This is my personal experience anyway, having not so long ago been a member of a shared house. Nobody had a car, we all walked or bused to work and were prolific users of the shops and eateries and even more prolific users of the pubs. The people we met in the pubs were many and varied but quite a few were in a similar situation. Students now seem to be increasingly decanted into purpose built student accomodation like 'The Foundary' at the other end of the road, post grads to Eddington and house shares are ever increasingly expensive. Maybe this will free up housing for families, but only ones with considerable purchasing power as no doubt landlords will be looking to cash in with the least impressive three bedroom terraces going at around the £500k mark.

The penultimate shop before Mill Road reaches the junction with Parkers Piece and the Town Centre beyond, is currently empty. This was last occupied by an Oxfam, which I'm pretty sure was gone before lock down but maybe Covid is the cause of it not being quickly filled by something else. I'll watch this space. Next door, the Amnesty Bookshop is one of two bookshops on Mill Road. The other side of the bridge has the RSPCA bookshop. Both have provided some good finds at charity shop prices, with the RSPCA having the edge due it's 'Map Box', which seems to never dry of 'new' stock. New bookshops are on the decline thanks to the internet, and while central Cambridge still has several secondhand and antiquarian outlets, a decent stall on the market as well as Waterstones and Heffers, the offering is far reduced to what it once was. This side of Mill Road used to have Brown's Bookshop and on Gwydir Street, the radical Grapvine Bookshop which had relocated from the demolished Kite. Briefly the more esoteric 'Libra Aries Bookshop' existed on the Broadway. I'm quite suprised that Mill Road, having been subject to a certain amount of 'Hipsterfication' since the demise of these establishments and its boast of being a street of independent shop has never been blessed with a 'Burley Fisher' or 'Hausmans'. With any luck, maybe one will pop up in the not too distant but meanwhile, Toppings in Ely is probably the nearest independent seller of new books.

Across the road from the ex-Oxfam is Petersfield Mansions, a 1995 development on the site of the old Post Office Depot with art deco pretensions. In comparison to more recent developments, this is quite impressive if somewhat reminicent of a gated community. I don't think it actually is, but it looks like one.

Heading back down the road, a misleading sign back at Ditchburn Place indicated the road ahead was closed. It was (and is) very much open, even if you are a car until you get to the Bridge.

There is a small area of unused ground, located within Ditchburn Place behind the bustop. I'd never noticed this before and it's odd position, which made it pretty much useless for any significant activity. A good spot to grow something, but for some reason nobody had. The bus stop here is often frequented by a gaggle of street drinkers. Maybe they put off any potential gardener, but they were absent today. Around the time of the walk, an emergency order was put in place to banish street drinkers from an area including Mill Road, Petersfield and I think most of Romsey. I'm sure I read this was for 24 or maybe 48 hours. I'm not sure what was special about that particular period of time. As soon as it elapsed, street drinkers and the odd beggar have returned to various hangouts in Mill Road. While these people can be intimidating and a pain in the arse, their very exisitence is a reminder of the precariousness of life and no doubt this is something people drinking expensive coffee do not want to be reminded of. Shunning them to other areas and willfully exluding people seemed contary to the sentiments of the 'respect and diversity in our community' ethos as painted across the bridge. These people, arguably, are as much part of the the community as anyone else but are afforded no real respect. Instead, they are being pushed out by a creeping nimbyism, in the same way as to traffic and pollution, to be someoby elses problem.

Almost across from the bus stop the empty building, previously a branch of Lloyds Bank, still sits unnocupied. It closed prior to lockdown, removing one of the few cashpoints along the street. Maybe after Covid, the new normal will be one where use of cash is all but done away with and eventually we will have to pay for everyting using our mobile devices. But luckily the public sprited Al-Amin a few doors down, one of Mill Roads best shops and one that does a lot behind the scenes to help the community, put in it's own free to use cash machine, which at least for the time being is helping to prevent - or at least postpone- a cashless dystopia. What the next incarnation of the former bank will be remains to be seen.

My walk had taken a diversion away from the road scheme and it's effect. That was mainly because I hadn't really noticed a significant reduction in traffic to the preceeding days and the feel of the street wasn't that much different. What I had noticed was that 'social distancing' by pedestrians - and I'll charitably include joggers in that category- was something that not happening to any great extent. The occasional person made an effort and there was the odd awkward but polite pause when me and an on-coming person decided which way to go to avoid each other. But mostly I felt was playing a speeded up version of 'pack-man' in my efforts to avoid other people, which was much harder than the early lockdown version when far fewer of them were about. People were absorbed in their mobile devices, or in their attempts to beat a personal best at running along the busy pavements of Mill Road in a straight line, and were oblivious of, or determined never to move aside for, anyone coming towards them.  I made use of the road widening measures a couple of times to avoid these people which was relatively easy because few others took advantage of the 'false roadworks'. Walking in the road to avoid gormless phone zombies in areas where there was no other choice risked colliding with the cars, scooters or people cycling, often on electrically assisted bikes going at speeds not possible by peddle power alone even by the most atlhletic.

I passed the burnt out shell of Gees. The fire, as I was reminded by my friend who lived in a flat above at the time, is now a year ago. Gees was a timeless relic of Mill Road and its demise a symbol of Mill Road and the world at large never being quite the same again. A bit like the ravens leaving the tower. Since it's demise we have had Boris Johnson, Covid and are facing Brexit. All factors that have and will affect Mill Road as much as anywhere else and almost certainly not for the better. Also for the first time, to my shame, I have been forced to buy lightbubs from the internet, since its the only place with a selection to match the stockroom of Gees I know about. I doubt anywhere will appear in the empty shops to fill this gap in Mill Road's 'retail offering'.

Almost across the street are two other empty looking premises. Mickey Flynn's pool hall must have been closed now for at least three years. I only went in once, when my next door neighbour dragged me away from a pint in the Dev as his pool team were short of a person for a match. Their opponents were The Fox in Bar Hill, a pub I knew little about other than in being a sort of flat roofed affair where once somebody had been attacked with an axe in the car park. I got away with pretending to be Steve, who was the person missing from my neighbours team. This was mainly, I think, because I lost my game spectacularly, providing much mirth for the Fox in Bar Hill team. I think suspected my deception all along and would have been far less charitable if I'd have I had been any good. The pool hall had the atmosphere of a social club but with a band of video screens running around the centre of the wall, playing bland dance music videos. While it wasn't somewhere I was itching to come back to, the contrast it brought to the road was, in retrospect refreshing. But it's the sort of place that is increasingly unimaginable on Mill Road. There were rumours Sainsburys wanted to open a shop on the site around the time it closed. This never happended and they opened in the former Mace instead. I've read somewhere of other plans for a retaurant and flats but so far nothing has happened. I always thought it would make a pretty good music venue, community space or library (or maybe a combination of all three) but I doubt that would maximise gains for the developer.

Next door is another apparenty empty building. This used to be The Quality Fish Bar, which was a pretty good fish and chip shop with a sit down area. Later it became a kebab place. The sign from that incarnation, which is probably closed ten years ago, still hangs above the door. I'm pretty certain the building is now rented out for residential use, at least upstairs. What is behind the curtains on the ground floor remains a mystery. Maybe the tables and chairs of the restaurant and the metal fish counter in the take away area remain, defunct and untouched for years, covered in grease and dust.

A lamenated public notice attached to a lampost gave (short) notice of the Experimental Traffic Order. An email address for comments/objections is given that will apparenty feed into a consultation which will take place during the operation of the scheme. I imagine they won;t be short of responses. Meanwhile, debate on 'Nextdoor' in particular has increased in both number of contributors and heatedness , if not in variations in the arguments and 'evidence' presented.  What is most notable about these developments is the level of feeling people have about the place and their right to influence how it should change (or not). Division has never felt so close to the surface on a street that publicly prides itself on community and inclusion.
 

The Romsey Noticeboard, back over the bridge, was silent on the subject of the new traffic measures. Maybe it thought it better keep quiet incase it is replaced by a shiny new digital advertising space. The noticeboard is certainly inconspicous. I'd never really noticed it, along with other similar notice boards in nearby Coleridge until I'd done a few lockdown walks. The devices seemed to hark back to an earlier age and it was as if they had re-emerged during the deserted early phase of Covid in the same way as birdsong and other things that had been hidden, oppressed or overlooked in the hurly-burly of the time before lockdown. It felt like the object was quietly observing rather than broadcasting information.

Another survivor is the Mill Road laundrette. This is an invaluable facility for many living in nearby streets and probably beyond due to the lack of laundrettes elsewhere. There are only a couple of others left  in other parts of town.

Sevwral traders were making their views known via their window displays. Reflected in the window below is the red and white plastic of one of the road widening measures and beyond Tesco Express. Tesco was opposed on Mill Road and seen by many as a threat to the independent shops (and maybe the long standing Co-op a few doors down). Prior to  opening, was occupied and used as a sort of community space. Tesco persisted and opened the shop in the end, but were not granted an alcohol licence. The shop never looks that well used and isn't really mentioned anymore, but at the time it was  as hotly debated at the current road scheme.

The chinese acupuncture centre has most maladies covered. Covid-19 is not on the list yet, but maybe they will beat AstraZeneca in the race to find a curative treatment.

I'd nearly forgotten entirely about social distancing, the traffic scheme and the arguments it was causing by the time I reached The Cambridge bed Centre. The building sits in contrast with its mainly Victorian surroundings as a rare example of flat roofed post war utililitarianism. It felt like a visitor from Stevenage or Harlow had arrived on the 1960s and had never left, blending into the background quietly. I'd never really noticed it much before Covid, but now it seems a signifcant and novel building, coming to the fore along with various other previouly under-noticed sites that had come out of the shadows during lockdown walks. 

Across the street, near the junction with Coleridge road, widening measures were a bit less generous in width, maybe indicating the money had already started to run out by the time the contractors got this far down.

Just along was a sign warning of the Bridge closure, which presumably was to send through traffic down Coleridge Road and towards Cherry Hinton Road, a parallel main route into town not blessed with quite as many shops on Mill Road but with similar conditions for cycling. I'm not sure if the Cambridge Cycling Campaign are pushing for similar 'concessions' there but so far no adjustments to reduce traffic have been imposed.

Not far from the Bridge Closure sign, the side of the former Romsey Town Labour Club building is being slowly engulfed by edgelandic plantlife. The building has been allowed to fall into dilapidation to an extent that it now occupies its own liminal zone. The building, while physically there, is slowly fading out of memory like a flickering television image. How long this state of slow death will continue before it is finally demolished and replaced with the serviced accomodation due to take it's place is anyones guess. Like Gee's over the Bridge, the club building is a relic from a previous era. The building could have carried on being used for community events, gigs, public meetings, weddings etc but that's not where the money is. 

The money, at least at this end of the road, isn't in takeaway food either. The former Belgrave Fish and Chip shop, latterly another kebab and chicken joint, is Romsey's version of the Quality Fish Bar site. For some years now it has been residential accomodation with a takeawy facade, with an air of the temprary about it. I'm pretty sure it shares the same owner as it's 'twin' across the bridge. 

The much of the road had a similar feeling, which although no doubt exaserbated by the stasis brought about by the Covid-era, had already existed at sites like The Belgrave, The Labour Club, The Quality Fish Bar  Mickey Flynns and more recently (well, a year ago!) Gees. Now lockdown is being eased, hidden things seem to be waiting in the wings to create a 'new normal'. On Mill Road, it's by no means certain how this will pan out. Will the good people of Romsey and Petersfield organise to put a halt to the 'nightmare' that some think the Cambridge Cycling Campaign are trying to impose on the street? Or is a car free 'cafe culture' a forgone conclusion and the 'new normal' that we have to look forward to? A new normal that was always almost certain to happen , even without the help of the catalyst of the Covid-era. It may be inevitable that events will help make room for the 'poncifiers', 'gentrifiers' and property people, unless the 'new normal' turns out to be something less expected, where the resulting economic situation effects the places and parts of society that recessions usually don't reach. A 'Carlsberg recession' , which will point 'the new normal' in another possiby much worse direction doesn't seem out of the question. But this is all speculation. Meanwhile, I'll carry on walking through the near-static midst of the pandemic, whether there are road widening features or not.