BY LIZ HODGKINSON
When I was invited back to my hometown at the end of 2024 to give a talk about my latest book, A Mink Coat in St Neots, I could not believe what confronted me. I had not visited the place for perhaps 30 years, when it still retained some semblance of a small rural town. Now, it was completely unrecognisable from the town I had known.
In the 1950s and 60s, St Neots had a population of around 5,000 and was a close-knit community where everybody knew everybody else. There were pros and cons to this, of course, as all knew each other’s business—or thought they did—and the gossip mill worked overtime.
The town had a large market square, one of the biggest in England, surrounded by fine Georgian buildings. There were 47 pubs, some dating back to the 17th century or earlier, and a high street full of old-established family businesses.
Now, as I wandered through the town, I could find few of the landmarks that I remembered. The market square was cordoned off, and many of the heritage buildings were boarded up or had fallen into sad disrepair. Most of the pubs had disappeared, and in this town—which now had upwards of 40,000 inhabitants—there was not a single hotel. In the high street, every one of the former family businesses had vanished, and in their stead were Turkish barbers, vape shops, nail salons and the inevitable charity shops. My mother’s former upmarket flower shop had become a tattoo and piercing parlour. I was glad she was not around to see this transformation.
On the outskirts, the fields and farmland that I remembered—and where I had played cricket and picked wildflowers—were now covered in vast housing estates, with more under construction. Many of the once-separate villages have been swallowed up, losing their individual identity, and in this former agricultural area, virtually all of the farmland, with its rich soil, has been concreted over.
It was the same story, I found, when in May 2025 I travelled to Huntingdon, the former county town which, much like St Neots, had a tiny Georgian core at its heart. This tiny core had become even tinier, reduced to just a few buildings around the Town Hall, while the rest of the town was hedged in by endless ring roads and ever-proliferating housing estates. The grammar school that I attended had been pulled down and was now—yes, you’ve guessed—another housing estate.
Similarly, the high street was full of vape shops, Turkish barbers and nail salons. The only remaining old-established family business was Elphicks, the furniture store, still going strong, I understand. I was also pleased to see that The George Hotel, once the home of Oliver Cromwell’s grandfather and later the headquarters of Charles I, was still there—but it was difficult to find, marooned by all the confusing ring roads.
St Neots and Huntingdon are steeped in history. Oliver Cromwell and Samuel Pepys attended Huntingdon Grammar School, and both towns date back to the eleventh century, at least. Surely some of that heritage was worth preserving?
In my youth, St Neots was a place of country pursuits—of gymkhanas, church fetes and agricultural fairs, where allotment holders vied, mainly good-naturedly, for prizes in the giant vegetable competitions.
There are now no allotments at all in St Neots and District, so another element of camaraderie among the locals has been lost. Fox hunting was a big attraction, and we used to gather on the market square to see the assembled horses, hounds and riders before they set off. Many of my childhood friends had horses and ponies, and even those of us whose parents could not afford a pony learnt to ride. I doubt that any St Neots children of today ever go near a horse.
That way of life has gone forever.
Looking back, one might ask: how has everything that made these towns what they once were been allowed to disappear?
The rot started in the late 1950s when the London County Council, as it then was, paid certain towns to accommodate the London overspill—people whose homes had been bombed during the war. The fact that both Huntingdon and St Neots were on a main line to King’s Cross, and also on the A1, meant that they were easy targets for the planners. Once housebuilding started, it never stopped, and ever more estates are going up all the time. A builder friend refers to these estates as ‘Euro Disney’.
Nearby St Ives, which refused to house the overspill, has, as a result, retained much of its medieval market town charm. Yes, it does have new housing estates, but they have not been allowed to ruin the nostalgic charm of the place. The quaint bridge over the river, for instance, dates back to 1415, but the 17th-century stone bridge in St Neots has long gone, replaced by a modern structure.
While these towns have expanded and expanded, what has been lost? Largely, I believe, it is the sense of community and cohesion. In my young day, you could not walk down St Neots High Street without bumping into at least half a dozen acquaintances. You knew all the shopkeepers, too. Now, a friend who has lived in St Neots all his life says that he doesn’t know a single person when he goes shopping in the high street.
It is too late to rescue St Neots and Huntingdon: the damage has been done and cannot be repaired. They have become dormitory towns, with many inhabitants working in Cambridge or Bedford or commuting into London. I understand that towns have to be modernised and cannot remain as relics of the past, but does this have to mean they lose all character in the process?
It is by no means inevitable—as I know from visiting attractive towns in the Cotswolds, which still have their pubs, their tea and craft shops, art galleries and fine old buildings. Perhaps planners of the future have learned their lesson; one can only hope so.
As one of the few remaining people who remembers St Neots as it was before it was submerged in huge housing estates, I have tried in my new book to describe this small town of the 1950s and 60s, and some of the wildly eccentric characters who lived there, or roundabout. And there were plenty of country squires, as well!
Liz Hodgkinson’s new book, A Mink Coat in St Neots: My Mother’s Flower Shop and the Mystery of a Wealthy Russian Princess, is published by Mount Orleans Press.
Liz Hodgkinson’s new book, A Mink Coat in St Neots: My Mother’s Flower Shop and the Mystery of a Wealthy Russian Princess, is published by Mount Orleans Press.