To spot the Museum of Cambridge, look for a charming old white building with pointy gables and slightly wonky windows right on the corner at the traffic lights, standing out from the taller, plain brick buildings beside it.
Alright, you’ve arrived-and take a moment to enjoy the ramshackle charm of this quirky spot! Picture yourself here three or four hundred years ago, because this museum hides a secret: it was once the White Horse Inn, a bustling pub where locals might have discussed ploughs, politics, or perhaps just the price of a decent pint. If you shut your eyes, you might almost catch the sound of boots stomping on old wooden floors or voices roaring with laughter after a long day of work in the Fens.
Stepping up to its sagging doorway, imagine this place back in the 16th century. The air was thick with the smell of roasted meats, the smoke from peat fires curling up between the beams, and the sound of horses shaking raindrops from their manes outside. But times change, and in 1934, the White Horse Inn saw its last official pint pulled. The very next morning, I imagine a ghostly barmaid, puzzled and polishing glasses, before the building transformed into a stage for a different act-the Cambridge & County Folk Museum-opening its doors to the curious in 1936.
Inside, over 20,000 objects now whisper stories of everyday lives: toys clattered by children, fine coins handled cautiously in darkened pockets, costumes once swished grandly through more elegant rooms, and paintings glowing softly with the haze of memory. One painter, Mary Charlotte Greene, whose works hang here, was so local I suspect she might still be keeping an eye on her canvases! And Richard Hopkins Leach, a master of inn signs, might frown a little that his signs now point at memories instead of thirsty travelers.
During dark times, the museum faced more peril than a cat near a bath; in the 1940s, it was nearly torn down for city improvements-and in the 1980s and again in the 2010s, it teetered on the edge of closing thanks to financial woes. But just like a stubborn old roof holding back the storm, the people of Cambridge weren’t having it. In 2020, when the pandemic shut the doors, supporters rallied with a mighty fundraiser, and the community-spurred on by local MP Daniel Zeichner-helped raise enough to open wide once more.
So next time you see a battered teapot behind glass or a faded child’s dress lit by a crooked window, remember: here are the echoes of centuries, souvenirs of people who might have once leaned on this doorway just as you do now.
