When people outside Harlow hear the name, they tend to picture tower blocks, roundabouts, and the phrase “new town” thrown around with either derision or vague unfamiliarity. But there’s another Harlow—an older, deeper one—that deserves to be remembered and retold.

I’ve spent much of the past year exploring that hidden history through a project tentatively called The Footprints of Time. It’s been a labour of love—documenting everything fin Harlow from Iron Age earthworks to Roman settlements, medieval chapels to lost manors.

What I’ve discovered isn’t just archaeological detail—it’s a story of continuity. Of a place where faith, trade, and community have existed long before anyone dreamt of post-war planning.

The Roman settlement at Harlow, for instance, was far more significant than most realise. A possible temple to Minerva, a key road junction, signs of military presence—these speak to a town of influence, not obscurity. Even the name “Harlow” may mean “army mound”—a reminder that this was a place of gathering and protection long before housing estates and underpasses.

We owe it to our residents—and to future generations—to celebrate Harlow not just as a product of the 1950s, but as a living place with layers. Places like this deserve stewardship, not just development. Identity, not just investment.

History is not a luxury. It’s the soil from which civic pride grows.