This idea first appeared in Broxtown early last year.

At the time, interest was modest, so we quietly shelved it.

But circumstances have changed.

With Broxbourne Borough Council now set to merge with neighbouring authorities, and with the distinct political identity of “Broxbourne Borough” likely to disappear, the question of how we remember who we were suddenly feels far more urgent.

If the borough will soon exist only in memory, maps, and archives, then we should be intentional about what we leave behind.

That is the thesis of this piece.

A Broxtown Monopoly board is no longer just a playful idea. It is a form of community memorabilia, a physical artifact that captures a place, a time, and a shared identity before it formally vanishes.

And there has never been a better moment to make it happen.

Councils merge. Wards are redrawn. Place names change.

What remains are stories, landmarks, and collective memory.

In the past, community identity was carried by institutions: the town hall, the church, the local school, the family doctor, the factory, the high street. Today, those anchors are weaker, fragmented, or digital.

What binds people now are shared experiences, shared symbols, and shared objects.

We have already seen this in small ways across the borough:

These things build pride. But they are fleeting.

A board game is different. It sits on your shelf, on your coffee table, in your family cupboard. It moves across generations. It travels with you if you move away. It tells your children and grandchildren: “This is where we came from.”

That is why a Broxtown Monopoly matters now.

It is not merchandise. It is memory in physical form.

We often underestimate games.

They are not trivial. They are social architecture.

Across cultures, board games have always been about more than entertainment. They teach:

In families, games create moments where people look up from their phones and actually talk to each other. Laughter replaces scrolling. Presence replaces distraction.

For older residents, games reduce isolation, sharpen memory, and provide gentle mental stimulation. For children, they build confidence, literacy, numeracy, and social skills. For parents, they create rare shared time that isn’t mediated by a screen.

A Broxtown Monopoly board would do all of this while quietly teaching local history and geography:

That is culture-building disguised as fun.

When Broxbourne as a political entity disappears, what remains will be:

A Broxtown Monopoly board becomes a permanent record of that world.

Long after council names change, the board will still say Broxbourne.

Long after ward boundaries shift, children will still roll the dice and land on Waltham Cross, Hoddesdon, Cheshunt, or Broxbourne itself.

It becomes a time capsule.

That is why this is not nostalgia. It is preservation.

If we move forward, this cannot be “Broxtown’s game.” It must be our game.

The vision is a genuinely community-built edition involving:

Even libraries could host design workshops, history sessions, or family game nights linked to the project.

This is how a board game becomes a living community project rather than a product.

For local businesses, this is more than branding. It is legacy.

A shop, café, charity, or venue featured on the board would be immortalised in a way no advert ever could be.

People may forget a leaflet, but they will not forget a Monopoly property that lives in their home for decades.

Every time a family plays, those businesses are remembered, spoken about, and passed down in conversation.

That is rare cultural capital.

If enough residents signal real interest, I will personally work to make this happen in time for our summer outdoor events.

The aim would be to launch the first edition as:

This would not be a commercial project driven by profit. It would be a civic project driven by belonging.

If this resonates with you, the next step is simple.

Complete our short survey and tell us honestly whether you would support this idea.

If the response is strong, we move forward together.

If the response is weak, then we accept that the moment was not right.

But I believe this time will be different.

Because this time, the stakes are higher.

This is no longer just about a game. It is about how Broxbourne chooses to remember itself.

Thank you for your continued support on this journey. Let’s work together to build something we can all be proud of.

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Cheers,
Editor-in-chief | Emeka Ogbonnaya

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