The beauty of collecting vintage postcards lies not just in the art on the front, but in the whispered histories on the back. Recently, I added a piece to my collection that serves as a poignant time capsule of mid-80s Britain. It is a postcard of Blackburn Cathedral, but its true value is found in the hurried, blue-inked cursive of a sister named Nellie, writing to her sibling, Dorothy, who was recovering in a hospital ward.
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| Blackburn Cathedral, Albert E, Hurst |
The Art: A Cathedral in Watercolour
The front of the postcard features a reproduction of an original watercolour by Albert E. Hurst, R.S.A. It depicts Blackburn Cathedral (The Cathedral Church of Blackburn St Mary the Virgin with St Paul) in a soft, atmospheric style. Hurst captures the architectural transition of the building—the traditional Gothic lines of the tower juxtaposed against the mid-century modern lantern spire, which was added in the 1960s.
The painting feels peaceful, with long shadows stretching across the cathedral grounds and figures strolling leisurely through the trees. It presents Blackburn not as a bustling industrial town, but as a place of sanctuary and light. For Dorothy, sitting in a hospital bed in 1985, this image was likely a breath of fresh air—a window into the world outside the sterile walls of the ward.
The Message: A Snapshot of 1985
Turning the card over, we step directly into November 16, 1985. The postage stamp—a classic coral-pink 13p definitive featuring Queen Elizabeth II—is cancelled by a Blackburn postmark.
The message is addressed to:
Mrs. D. Biddle Ward 10, ‘Christie Hospital’ Withington, M20 9BX
The Christie Hospital in Manchester is world-renowned for cancer care, which immediately adds a layer of weight to Nellie’s words. Her message is a masterclass in the "stiff upper lip" and the quiet devotion of the era.
"My dear sister, by the time you receive this, I hope you will be feeling a little better. Gordon is ringing me tonight—I keep wondering if you are warm enough."
This small detail—the worry over being "warm enough"—is so quintessentially British and deeply maternal. It reflects a time before instant messaging, where family updates were filtered through landline calls (the "Gordon is ringing me" mention) and physical mail.
The Success of the Jumble Sale
One of the most charming segments of the letter is Nellie’s report on local news. In an age before GoFundMe, community spirit was powered by the "Jumble Sale."
"The jumble sale was a great success, we made £125! A lot of the thanks go to you Dorothy."
In 1985, £125 was a significant sum—equivalent to roughly £400 today. It’s clear that even from her hospital bed, Dorothy had been involved in the preparations, perhaps knitting items or organizing logistics from afar. Nellie wanted her sister to know that her efforts had come to fruition, providing a sense of purpose and accomplishment during a difficult time.
Why These Cards Matter
As collectors, we often focus on the rarity of the print or the quality of the stamp. But this postcard reminds us that these were, first and foremost, vessels of human connection. Nellie signs off with:
"Thinking of you all the time. Fondest love, Nellie xx"
The handwriting is slightly shaky, tucked into the bottom margin of the card as she ran out of space. It’s a physical artifact of a moment in time—a Tuesday in November where a sister in Blackburn walked to the post box to send a sliver of hope to a sister in Manchester.
Final Thoughts
This Blackburn Cathedral postcard is more than just "ephemera." It is a testament to the enduring power of the written word. In our digital age, a text message is easily deleted, but Nellie’s concern for Dorothy’s warmth and her pride in their successful jumble sale have survived for forty years.
When we hold these cards, we aren't just looking at old paper; we are holding the echoes of lives lived with care, community, and "fondest love."
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