Trumpington Village Sign unveiled June 2010, designed by Sheila Betts.
Trumpington Local History Group
Trumpington, Cambridge General
Advertiser, 1842
Trumpington by X.Y.Z.

Transcription of the source, with comments in [].

There are places upon earth to which one's affections cling through
life with an attachment that is as inexplicable to ourselves as it
appears unaccountable to others. ... But in all this increasing
forgetfulness of the once so lovely world, a few spots are yet
remembered as green oases in the universal waste: of these the
little village of Trumpington, unpretending in its character and
situation, and probably little cared for by any, save the inhabitants
whose home and dwelling place it is, remains hallowed in our
remembrance, and associated with recollections of our College life
...

The situation of Trumpington is not a happy one, there is a
flatness about the country as you approach it from London that is
more depressing to the heart of one accustomed to rough mountain
scenery of Wales, or even the undulating aspect of England
generally, than can well be described: but when you come nearer
to the village and see the embattled tower of its old church rising
above the trees, and catch a glimpse of the avenue leading to the
mansion of its lord [Trumpington Hall], and mark the cottages, not
slated or tiled, but showing the good old covering of straw, and
when you see the wives clustering about the doors of these
cottages, and the roses peeping in at their windows, then you will
admit that Trumpington is a genuine English village. To a freshman
coming up to the University, it is the Rubicon on passing which he
may consider himself fairly in Cambridge; for seldom is it that the
broad walk between the two places is undotted by students of
every class and standing, either taking a run in the keen morning
air after chapel, or walking between two o'clock and four, in the
cold sunshine of November, or striding desperately along when
daylight has departed, and the shades of a stormy winter's evening
are fast closing around them, and the withered leaves are drifted in
heaps by the wayside. From Trumpington to Cambridge the walk
has objects, few and perhaps unimportant, but which in after life
are often remembered from having been matters of daily
contemplation - the windmill always going [at the junction of Long
Road and Trumpington Road]; the thin fringe of plantation [along
Trumpington Road]; the nursery with its greenhouses and flowers
[
Michael Brewer's Nursery, later Willers Nursery, at the junction
of Latham Road and Trumpington Road]; the milestone at the
bridge with the heraldic devices on its crumbling surface [at the
junction of Trumpington Road and Brooklands Avenue]; the raised
walk and long blue strip of water running parallel to its side, not
infrequently mistaken for the Cam [Trumpington Road beside the
Botanic Gardens]; and the fine road, almost a boulevard, that
finally conducts us into the town [Trumpington Road and
Brookside]. Honoured, thrice honoured, may that walk ever be in
the remembrance of each genuine son of
Alma Mater, although far
removed from the shadow of her fostering care! We write from
the midst of a sea of noisy life - from the centre of the great
metropolis - with the horrid din of a thousand confused sounds
ringing in our ears; - yet in imagination we are still walking on the
Trumpington-road - "our custom always of the afternoon" - and
holding sweet communion with friends who will never in this world
assemble together in the common purpose for which we were then
united. Well does the great Jean Paul say, that we ought to value
youth, for it comes but once a lifetime.

Trumpington is separated from its sister village, Grantchester, by a
sheet of green meadow, land through which the Cam finds its way
beneath blue overarching willows - the distance between the two
places is but trifling - one might almost fancy them -

"Twin roses by the Zephyrs blown apart."
(Keats)

mere hamlets having one common name and parish.

We always regretted that the author of the Bath Guide ever lived
at Trumpington, since the place is now associated with the
recollection of a poem, so coarse and vulgar, that even at the time
in which it appeared the caricature must have excited but one
feeling in the minds of any who professed to entertain right notions
of propriety or good taste. [Reference to Christopher Anstey
(1724-1805), poet and the author of the
New Bath Guide, 1766
and nearly forty later editions, whose family owned Anstey Hall,
although he lived many years in Bath.] The only part we could
ever read with common patience is the postscript to the Second
Edition, in which we find the scenery of the Author's home dimly
shadowed out in the following lines: -

"Thus musing I wandered in splenetic mood
Where the languid old Cam rolls his willowy flood
..."

A little further on he speaks of the river that gives a name to our
University and flows through the domain of Trumpington, in terms
of irreverence not more creditable than are his sneers at Alma
Mater herself.

"May this lazy stream who to Granta bestows
Philosophical slumbers and learned repose,
To Granta, sweet Granta (where studious of ease
Seven years did I sleep then lost my degrees)
..."

Truly is this "New Bath Guide" a very detestable book. That it
should have been admitted into the collection of British Poets is an
oversight at once to be lamented and condemned; but so it is, and
while the volumes of Spenser and Milton are handed down to
posterity, there will accompany them the nonsense of Gay and the
ribaldry of Anstey: the whole reminding one of a band of galley
slaves in ancient Rome, where we might see the Emperor and the
peasant manacled together.

We could write more - much more about this, to us, well
remembered and much loved village. We could, from mere
recollection, draw every window in its church, and map each
locality with the same correctness as though the originals were
before our eyes; but we must forbear. Interesting as the subject
might be to ourselves, how few are there in whose minds it would
awaken the slightest sympathy?
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R.B. Harraden (1809), 'Cambridge from the London road', looking from
the Stone Bridge and the first milestone to Coe Fen and the road into
Cambridge,
Cantabrigia Depicta.
This article was published in the Cambridge General Advertiser, 9
November 1842, traced by Howard Slatter
and transcribed by Andrew
Roberts. The article seems to have been written by a former university
student, who recognises "that Trumpington is a genuine English village".