It’s been a while since I have wondered Cambridge’s old historical streets. Coming from a small market town just a short car journey away, Cambridge has always been ‘My city’. It is the city of my birth after all. You can’t help feeling all of the past goings on and that everything is steeped in some sort of historical importance and magic. It seeps out from everywhere, on every corner you turn. Every nook and cranny. Its a celebration of intellect and pompousness. It feels like Ceremonial celebration of academia. I love the romance of it all, as you wind round its streets and rivers, that have seen hundreds upon hundreds of fellows, merchants, lecturers and general city folk alike punt and walk. It puffs its grand chest out and impresses you with every spire, chimney pot and timber frame. It truly is one of the most romantic, fantasy magical places I know.