The "Crookedest" Church in Britain: A Journey to St. Martin’s, Cwmyoy

 There is a peculiar magic in old postcards. They are tiny windows into the past, capturing a moment in time before the world rushed forward. In my collection, few images are as arresting as this monochrome view of St. Martin’s Church in Cwmyoy, Monmouthshire. At first glance, you might think the photographer was standing on a slope or that the camera lens was warped. But look closer at the horizon and the trees—the world is straight; it is the church that is falling.

Widely known as the "crookedest church in Britain," St. Martin’s is a testament to both the instability of the earth and the stubborn resilience of faith.

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Dating the Postcard: A Philatelic Mystery

When examining a postcard from a personal collection, the reverse often tells as much of a story as the front. This particular card features the "Post Office Preferred" logo in the top right corner. This small graphic is a vital clue for any deltiologist (postcard collector).

The "Post Office Preferred" (POP) scheme was introduced by the British General Post Office in 1968. It was designed to encourage the use of standardized envelope and card sizes to accommodate the new automated sorting machines. The presence of this specific logo, combined with the typography of the "LITONE" brand and the "POST CARD" header, suggests this card likely dates from the late 1960s to the mid-1970s.

The black-and-white photography has a high-contrast, moody quality typical of mid-century local topographical cards. While the church has looked "broken" for centuries, this postcard captures it in a era just before modern heritage tourism exploded, showing it in a raw, almost haunting state.

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A Church Built on Shifting Sands (and Slate)

Located in the stunning Vale of Ewyas within the Black Mountains, St. Martin’s Church doesn’t just lean—it twists. The reason for its architectural eccentricity isn’t a whimsical builder, but rather the geology of the hillside.

The church was constructed on a prehistoric landslip of Old Red Sandstone. Over the centuries, the ground beneath the heavy stone walls has continued to move. As the earth shifted, the chancel, the nave, and the massive tower all began to tilt in different directions.

The Lean by the Numbers:

• The tower leans at an angle even more acute than the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

• The interior is equally disorienting; the floor slopes, the windows are no longer rectangular, and the roof timbers have been reinforced to prevent the whole structure from collapsing inward.

If you were to stand inside the nave today, you would notice that the chancel twists away from the main body of the church—a phenomenon often called a "weeping chancel," though here it is caused by gravity rather than symbolic design.

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The Architecture of Resilience

Looking at the postcard, you can see the massive buttresses added to the exterior. These weren't part of the original medieval design but were essential "crutches" added later to keep the building standing.

Despite its precarious appearance, St. Martin’s remains a working parish church. It is a Grade I listed building, protected not just for its age (parts of it date back to the 12th century), but for the very "faults" that make it unique. It serves as a metaphor for the Welsh spirit—battered by the elements and shifting grounds, yet refusing to fall.

The graveyard, visible in the foreground of the postcard, shares the church's fate. Gravestones tilt at jaunty angles, appearing as if they are marching down the hill toward the valley floor.

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Why Cwmyoy Matters to Collectors

For those of us who collect postcards of British heritage, Cwmyoy is a "bucket list" location. It represents the intersection of natural history and human endeavour. When this postcard was printed by Litone, they chose a low-angle shot that emphasizes the tower's dramatic deviation from the vertical.

The starkness of the black-and-white film highlights the texture of the local stone and the deep shadows of the surrounding yew trees. It captures a sense of stillness and isolation that is hard to find in the modern, digital age.

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Visiting St. Martin’s Today

If this postcard inspires you to visit the Black Mountains, Cwmyoy is located just a few miles north of Abergavenny. The drive through the Llanthony Valley is one of the most beautiful in Wales, leading you past steep ridges and ancient ruins.

When you step inside St. Martin’s, the first thing you’ll feel is a sense of vertigo. It is a rare place where you can actually feel the weight of history—and the weight of the stone—pressing against the laws of physics.

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Final Thoughts from the Collection

This Litone postcard is more than just a piece of stationary; it is a record of survival. Whether you are a fan of "eccentric Britain," a geology enthusiast, or a lover of Welsh history, the crooked church of Cwmyoy stands as one of the most remarkable sites in the UK.

I often wonder who first bought this card. Did they send it to a friend to prove that such a building existed? Or did they keep it as a souvenir of a windy afternoon in Monmouthshire, marvelling at a tower that, by all rights, should have fallen long ago?

The Gilded Age of Ashford: Unveiling the "Royal Cinema de Luxe" Postcard

 There is a specific kind of magic found in the tactile grain of an old postcard. As a collector, I’ve spent years hunting through flea markets and online archives, but few pieces capture the transition from the Victorian era to the age of mass entertainment as elegantly as this latest addition to my collection: The Royal Cinema in Ashford, Kent.

This postcard, part of "The Nevitsky Collection" under the "Lost Empires and Picture Palaces" series (No. 1), isn't just a piece of cardstock; it is a portal to a time when going to the "flicks" was a grand, formal event.

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Royal Cinema, Ashford, Kent

An Architectural Gem in the Heart of Kent

Looking at the front of the postcard, the first thing that strikes you is the building's imposing façade. The Royal Cinema de Luxe, as the marquee proudly proclaims, was a far cry from the utilitarian multiplexes we visit today.

Located on Bank Street in Ashford, this building originally opened its doors in the early 20th century. The architecture captured here shows a fascinating blend of styles. The Dutch-style gabled roofline gives it a regal, almost civic importance, while the arched windows and symmetrical pilasters suggest a classical influence.

If you look closely at the image, you can see the staff standing outside—men in formal caps and suits, looking every bit like the guardians of a high-society establishment. To their right, children linger near the entrance, perhaps captivated by the posters for "Living Pictures." In an era before television and the internet, these walls held the only window to the wider world.

The "Living Pictures" and the Allure of the Screen

The marquee on the postcard features the words "Living Pictures" and "Cinema De Luxe." The term "Living Pictures" (or Tableaux Vivants) was often used in the early days of cinematography to describe the transition from static photography to moving film.

In the early 1910s and 20s, a trip to the Royal Cinema was an immersive experience. You weren't just watching a film; you were accompanied by a live pianist or even a small orchestra that provided the "soundtrack" to the silent reels. The posters visible in the scan hint at the adventurous serials and melodramas that would have drawn crowds from across the Kentish countryside.

Behind the Card: The Nevitsky Collection

The reverse of the postcard reveals its pedigree. It belongs to The Nevitsky Collection, published by Piccadilly Plaza Postcards. For collectors of "Cinema-tiana," this series is highly regarded for its focus on the "Lost Empires"—those grand theaters and music halls that have since been demolished or repurposed.

The serial number A676X and the designation of No. 1 suggest this was a flagship entry in the set. Finding a clean, unposted version of this card is a treat; the lack of a postmark or handwritten message allows us to appreciate the pristine typography and the quality of the sepia-toned print, which has aged into a beautiful, warm biscuit hue.

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The Evolution of the Royal Cinema

While this postcard freezes the Royal Cinema in its prime, history moved on. Like many "Picture Palaces" of its era, the building underwent several transformations:

• The Silent Era: As seen here, it was the pinnacle of local entertainment.

• The "Talkies": The cinema would have had to undergo significant acoustic renovations when sound came to film in the late 1920s.

• The Bingo Era: Like many grand British cinemas, the mid-20th century saw a decline in ticket sales due to the rise of TV, leading many venues to be converted into Bingo Halls.

• The Modern Day: Today, while the "Royal" name lives on in various forms in Ashford's history, the specific grandeur captured in this postcard remains a ghost of Bank Street, reminding us of a time when the building itself was as much a star as the actors on the screen.

Why We Collect "Lost Empires"

People often ask why I collect these specific glimpses of the past. To me, this postcard is a reminder of the social fabric of Kent. The Royal Cinema was a meeting place, a site for first dates, and a source of news during global conflicts.

When you hold this card, you aren't just looking at a building; you're looking at the collective memories of thousands of Ashford residents. It’s a tribute to the architects who believed that even a small market town deserved a "Picture Palace" of its own.