I live only about thirty miles from Cambridge, and I won’t even go in there now.
I have a great Cambridge story for you.
I had a good friend who was born and raised there. (This is back in the late 1960s.)
Imagine the scene—my friend has long hair, smokes marijuana now and then, has a world class reggae music collection, and lives in a tiny run-down apartment.
So far everything is normal.
But—he has a very unusual hobby. For several years he has collected every single white extremist brochure, magazine, leaflet, whatever, available by mailorder. We are talking Klan, Nazis, and dozens of other groups nobody has ever heard of outside of their own encampments in the woods.
These documents are floor to ceiling for most of one whole room.
It is not that he believes the stuff, but he is totally fascinated, one could say addicted by it.
It is his secret, his “hidden hobby”, and only his very best friends get to find out about it.
Life is sometimes not what it appears to be (and Cambridge has _all kinds_ of strange people).