Scandi Cambridge. An Airbnb adventure a month

“I find Cambridge an asylum, in every sense of the word.”

— A. E. Houseman

We plan to have an AirB&B adventure each month. Not necessarily far away and just a night or two, but regularly, to riffle up our molecules a bit

I am, like all right-minded people, in love, utterly, with Cambridge's Kettle's Yard, (the 20th century art gallery in a Cambridge house), it rivals only The Sainsbury Centre at UEA in my heart. My adoration for it is probably why I've often walked past, but never been to, the much larger Fitzwilliam museum. But dear, dear Kettle's Yard is closed until next year for refurbishment, so we couldn't even be tempted by it. And I'd heard good things about The Fitzwilliam, one friend told us it was as good as the V&A for decorative arts, so September's adventure was Cambridge. 

We are alternating the choice of the actual Airbnb accommodation between us and this month was OH's choice. You'll notice a sudden contrast from last month's gloriously ramshackle riverside cabin. He found himself drawn to a very modern top floor apartment in Chesterton, which is just outside the City centre. I should explain that OH (Derek) went to Cambridge and then stayed and worked there for a decade, before moving his indie music career to Norwich, so he's a good guide to the place.

 Cambridge is famously an odd mix. There's a nucleus of lofty medieval colleges, beautifully, expensively preserved havens of academia, wearing tradition with determined insouciance, interiors swarmed around by, but protectively inaccessible to, a million tourists, There's actually relatively little for the visitors, unless they have a specific purpose to their trip, apart from walking the hard, stone pavements, past the exteriors of the colleges and spending money in the shops (leased from the colleges who own most of the real estate).

Surrounding this is suburbs of yellow bricked terraces (with some inevitably awful 60's and 70s infill, such as The Grafton Centre), at first glance looking surprisingly like any Victorian-grown industrial town. But when you have time to walk past the houses and look properly you notice gorgeously kept front gardens and discrete but expensive extensions. And there's an unmistakable hum of brain power in the air, fuelled by hip and thriving coffee shops and pubs. And everywhere flyers for performances, films, activities and events. You just have to get your eye in to appreciate the Cambridge beyond Jesus Green. It is somewhere you could have fun living in.

Home for the weekend was an Edwardian terrace, owned by a classics professor and his Finnish pianist wife, both lovely and and friendly with a good line in wit. From the outside the house looked fairly small, but inside the house was deep and beautiful. The epitome of an academic's home, lovely paintings, shelves of books and two Steinway pianos in the front room. The attic had been enlarged and converted into a lovely, light and spacious modern studio apartment, scandi styled with a kitchen and shower room, overlooking the gardens of the house and the neighbours. Perfect.

After a cuppa we walked, along the river, past the house boats and Jesus Green Lido into the City.

The Fitzwilliam started as it went on, by exceeding expectations in its cafe. As it's free entry, should you ever be casting about in the city centre for a civilised lunch venue you could certainly do far worse. Well done Fitzwilliam.

A very happy afternoon ensued, wandering amongst world class pottery, paintings and antiquities. I do love a pot, so I was particularly happy. There's a lot of social history in a bowl, as well as beauty. They've also got an excellent Georgian glass collection, which I found exquisite. 

Ravillious

OH was especially taken with the Egyptology, although conflicted by the fact that you do have to try and lay aside your misgivings about the ethics of such treasures ending up in an East Anglian fenland town.

A well-staffed bakery 1950-1985 BC

Back on the streets we found Cambridge set-dressed in that special pewter-skyed light that comes after a rainstorm.

To escape the crowds, OH exercised his right as an "old member" (just stop that sniggering right now), albeit one who has mislaid his card so had to blag his way in, to rest our over-stimulated brains in Clare College's gardens and peacefully people-watch the punts from the bridge.

To escape another downpour we stood in Jesus College's porch and stared at the Elizabeth Frink horse in its pasture of very special magical mowing.

I'd asked some Cambridge Twitter friends for their food recommendations and, foot-sore that we were, we headed to The Waterman pub for food, very close to the house, which was great. We had so many other ace recommendations that it seems a shame not to share them, so I'll add them at the foot of the page.

The best Sunday mornings always start with leisurely breakfast, so we kicked back and then made our way to the Botanic Gardens. The gardens are 40 acres of academic gorgeousness in the city centre, Kew-like, with glasshouses, specimens, and meticulous landscaping.

Strangely fascinating are the benches, with their fond dedications. There's a short story to be researched and written about every one and I shamelessly want that gig - someone commission me.

Cryptically to Syd Barrett

After another surprisingly good cafe lunch in the gardens we drove to Granchester and had a walk along the water meadows. A pretty village, somewhat dominated by the likes of us turning up to enjoy it. Oh, the guilt of a tourist.

Rupert Brooke and village friends. Less flashy than the memorial at Jeffery Archer's house down the road.

The final joy was to head back into Cambridge and have tea and cake with UEA/Norwich friends who live and work in the city and admire their new extension. I've got extension envy now and am eying the back of our cottage. Please buy more pies. ;)

We haven't quite decided what'll be next month's adventure yet. But watch this space...

The eatery suggestions.
Enough for a month. Many thanks Deepa, Pina and Val x

Cotto
De Luca
Gattuso
Steak and Honour
Stir
The Waterman
No 30
Thirsty
The Petersfield
Calverley's Brewery
196
Backstreet Bistro
Trinity
The Chop House
Aromi
Pho
Tradizioni

The wooden shed by the river. An AirB&B adventure a month.

“Everything on the river was new to them. Only the evening before they had come down the deep green lane that ended in the river itself, with its crowds of yachts and its big brown-sailed barges and steamers going up to Ipswich or down to the sea. Last night they had slept for the first time at Alma Cottage.”

— Arthur Ransome

If you run your own business sometimes you get a bit over-focussed on the quotidian and if you live in a beautiful place, you sometimes forget to leave. So, we have decided to have an AirB&B adventure each month. Not necessarily far away, just a night or two, but regularly, to riffle up our molecules a bit.

Blog it someone said. So here we all are, settle in and keep an eye open for the egrets.

1. August. Pin Mill.

My sense of things geographic is notoriously scatter-gun. Most of Norfolk has been transfixed from the London train by the treat of the view of the bright morning light shining on the tidal river when you pass Maningtree in Essex. So when I booked this adventure I thought that was roughly where we'd be. But no, turns out we were headed to Suffolk and another river. No matter, Essex can be a different month.

Pin Mill is a beautiful little port village on the banks of the Orwell. It's famed for Authur Ransome having lived there and is nestled amongst National Trust woodland. Mostly what people do from there is mess about with boats and mend boats. What leapt at me though, from my phone and the AirB&B app was this little wooden building. There's an adventure.

A terrific man called David is going to feature a lot in this. Really our weekend turned out to be about David, his stories, and the river.

David lives on a metal house boat, permanently moored on the river in a community of house boats. He says he has no interest in sailing off to anywhere, he just likes to stare at the river, the woods and tend his garden. He has converted his wooden cabin on the bank into a tiny, comfortable mini house, with a veranda overlooking his jetty garden and the river. When the cabin gets a booking he's set the system to automatically block out the three days either side so he doesn't have to over-stretch himself on the breakfast cooking. David has finessed the art of convivial laid-backness. This also means book in time is midday but you don't have to book out till 3 pm the next day, so one night is like two days holiday. 

After calling in on cousins further up the Suffolk coast and relieving them of tea, cake and chutney, we drove past Ipswich and down to The Orwell. David met us at the harbour, with a beaming smile and led us along the winding river bank, on the edge of the wood, to his mooring and jetty.

Tip 1. Use the resident's parking space up the hill, as instructed. Driving down to the harbour and having to turn round again on a busy Saturday lunchtime because you missed the car park entrance just makes you look like a tourist and can lead to in-car tension. Trust me.

Tip 2. If you aren't reasonably nimble this isn't one for you. Not least because when the tide is fully in, the only way back to the harbour is via a metal ladder in the wall below the pub. Reader, I coped perfectly well. Feel free to use me as your nimbleness benchmark.

David lived in India, and as he says, he likes "stuff". So the cabin is richly decorated with music and film memorabilia and Indian fabrics. We are not talking boutique hotel luxury, you are essentially living between a wood and the river, but the cabin is super-comfortable with squishy leather chairs and every square inch is fascinating. Everything I wanted was there - a jug of fresh milk, a kettle, PROPER GROUND COFFEE, a cafetierre, tea and a shower.

We took ourself off to buy some bread, tomatoes, smoked fish and a nice bar of chocolate and had a restorative picnic lunch on the veranda.

Tip 3. The closest farmshop is the very busy Suffolk Food Hall. I recommend driving to the other side of the bridge and going to Jimmy's Farm Foodhall. Not only does this give you access to much nicer, ahem, pork pies, but I think the food there is generally much better and has more choice, especially if you are after local provenance.

After a sunny walk down the river the sun seemed to be over the yard arm (whatever that is) so we plied a willing David with a bottle of wine that we'd had the sense to keep about us for the purpose of a little light socialising, sat at the end of his jetty watching the wading birds as the tide turned and we slowly discovered all the things we had in common.

David's one of these people with, what Dennis Healy used to call, a broad cultural hinterland, so I suspect most people would easily find things in common with him, but he and OH have a very closely aligned interest, nay obsession, with music and collections of vinyl, so they bonded instantly. My connection was that he used to work in food, albeit on a very different scale. 

We'd booked into The Butt and Oyster, so made our way, possibly a little unsteadily, down to the pub, had supper and then back by torchlight, finding David had lit candles in the lamps on the veranda, and clambered up into bed, falling asleep listening to the river, the owls and the sound of rigging ringing against masts.

I'm an early riser and was in my element as I made coffee and sketched a little. There's no shortage of things to draw if you live amongst house boats on a river.  David cooked us a fine breakfast on his boat whilst OH* companionably criticised his vinyl filing system. This is how men like OH and David make friends. We LOVED his boat, living there is definitely the dream. He loves it too. David is a happy man.

*Other Half

We drifted through the morning reading for a while and went for a walk up-river, picking blackberries along the way. We could have got lunch en route but breakfast and the blackberries seemed to suffice until we got back to Pin Mill and an ice cream from the gallery, after looking at their exhibition of Arthur Ransome's photographs of the village.

After an hour or so more sitting by the river we walked back to the car with David and said our cheerios. 

As I had said to David over breakfast that morning, I think by choosing this as a our first monthly adventure we might have peaked early. The benchmark is now pretty high.  

Next month: A weekend in Cambridge and The Fitzwilliam.