This is a city worthy of an epic, like Troy
What’s going for it? Been around a while, Colchester. Seen it all before. This is, after all, reputedly the oldest continually inhabited town in the land. It’s seen Romans (they went wild for its oysters), and more ancient tribes before them. Cymbeline. Yes, the Cymbeline. Old King Cole. Yes, the Old King Cole. Pliny writes about Colchester. Pliny never wrote about Nuneaton. So respect to Colchester; it’ll outlive you or me. It keeps up with the times, don’t get me wrong, with its (literally) dazzling Firstsite art gallery, the Colchester Arts Centre and its new Curzon cinema. But this is a place with old bones. Look past the Nando’s, to the old stones of the castle, the curly wurly curlicued town hall, the heroic politics of its postwar university, the ghosts of Flemish weavers in the Dutch Quarter. Colchester is a city worthy of an epic, like Troy. It’s got tales to tell. Maybe when Boudicca burnt it to the ground. Or when the Normans built the largest castle in Europe. Or maybe when the parliamentarians laid siege to it in the civil war and the citizens were forced to eat rats. There are plenty of juicy plots here. So, who’s going to write it?
The case against Too many executive estates of toy town tat built in the noughties. The Golden Banana: love it or hate it?
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