Warmth in Ward 10: A 1985 Tale of Two Sisters and a Blackburn Postcard

 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.

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.

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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.

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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."

Uncovering the Story Behind a Vintage Dunster Castle Postcard

 There is a specific kind of magic found in the saturated hues of a vintage John Hinde postcard. It’s a hyper-real version of Britain—one where the skies are always a perfect cerulean, the grass is a lush, eternal emerald, and the history feels as solid as the stone it’s built upon. This recent addition to my collection, a classic view of Dunster Castle in Somerset, is a stunning example of that mid-century aesthetic, capturing a "splendid castellated mansion" that has guarded the gateway to Exmoor for nearly a millennium.

Dunster Castle, Somerset

The Visual: A John Hinde Masterpiece

The front of the postcard (Photo: D. Noble, John Hinde Studios) presents Dunster Castle as it exists in the collective English imagination. Perched atop Tor Hill, the castle rises dramatically above a dense canopy of ancient woodland. In the foreground, a golden meadow is separated by a simple wooden gate, grounding the grand architecture in the reality of the Somerset countryside.

John Hinde’s studio was famous for its rigorous production standards. To achieve these vibrant colours, photographers often used large-format transparency film, and the printing process involved intense colour separation. The result is an image that feels more like a memory of a perfect summer day than a mere photograph. It invites you to step through that gate and begin the climb toward the battlements.

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The History: From Norman Motte to Victorian Splendor

Turning the postcard over reveals a concise but fascinating historical summary. It notes that the site was "built by Mohun, Earl of Somerset, c. 1070." This takes us back to the immediate aftermath of the Norman Conquest, when William the Conqueror granted the land to William de Mohun. Originally a timber motte-and-bailey, the castle was the nerve centre of a vast feudal barony.

The postcard highlights a pivotal moment in 1376 when the castle was sold to the Luttrell family. Remarkably, the Luttrells held onto this estate for exactly 600 years, finally gifting it to the National Trust in 1976. This continuity is rare in English history and allowed the castle to evolve organically from a medieval fortress into the comfortable, "castellated mansion" we see today.

The Scars of the Civil War

The text on the reverse mentions a dramatic episode: "...it was held in 1645 by Col. Wyndham for 160 days against Blake’s Parliamentarians." During the English Civil War, Dunster was one of the last Royalist strongholds in the West Country.

The siege was gruelling. Colonel Wyndham held out against Robert Blake, a man who would later become one of England’s most famous admirals. When the castle finally surrendered in 1646, the Parliamentarians ordered the "slighting" (partial destruction) of the fortifications to prevent it from being used as a rebel base again. Most of the medieval walls were pulled down, leaving only the Great Gatehouse and a few towers standing.

The Salvin Transformation

Looking at the front of the card, the castle looks remarkably "complete" and uniform. This is thanks to the "embellishments by Salvin" mentioned on the back. In the late 19th century, George Fownes Luttrell commissioned the architect Anthony Salvin to restore the castle.

Salvin was a master of the "Tudor Gothic" style. He didn't just repair the castle; he reimagined it as the ultimate Victorian country house. He added the imposing towers and the grand staircase, creating the silhouette that has become an icon of the Somerset skyline. It is this Victorian vision of medievalism that the postcard captures so beautifully.

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Why This Postcard Matters

In the digital age, where we can pull up a 4K drone video of Dunster Castle in seconds, why do we still collect these pieces of cardstock?

1. The Tactile Connection: Holding a card that was printed in Ireland by John Hinde (Distributors) Ltd. decades ago connects us to the history of tourism. This card was likely bought in a small shop in Dunster village, tucked into a pocket, and kept as a souvenir of a seaside holiday at nearby Minehead.

2. The Typography and Branding: The reverse features the distinctive "John Hinde Original" logo and the red crest of Sumorsæte Ealle (the ancient motto of Somerset, meaning "All the people of Somerset"). These design elements are a masterclass in mid-century graphic layout.

3. The Narrative: The short paragraph on the back serves as a "curator’s note" for the image. It transforms a pretty picture into a lesson on the Norman Conquest, the Civil War, and Victorian architectural tastes.

Visiting Dunster Today

If you were to stand in the spot where D. Noble took this photograph today, the view would be remarkably similar. The trees might be taller, and the gate might be replaced, but the castle remains a sentinel over the village of Dunster.

The village itself is one of the best-preserved medieval settlements in England, complete with a Yarn Market and a tithe barn. The castle is now managed by the National Trust, and visitors can explore the very rooms Salvin designed, walk the terraces of the Mediterranean-style gardens, and see the working watermill.

Final Thoughts

This postcard is more than just a 4x6 piece of paper; it’s a time capsule. It captures a 1,000-year-old castle through the lens of a mid-20th-century aesthetic, preserved for us to enjoy in the 21st century. It reminds us that while owners, architects, and even governments change, the stones of Dunster remain—perched on their hill, overlooking the sea and the moors.

Art on the Move: A Dutch Masterpiece in the Mail

One of the most intriguing aspects of deltiology—the study and collection of postcards—is the way it allows high art to travel into the most mundane spaces of everyday life. Today, I am looking at a beautiful "Art Postcard" from my collection that features a reproduction of "A Hilly River Landscape" by the Dutch Golden Age painter Aelbert Cuyp. While my previous posts have often focused on historical photography, this piece represents a different tradition: the museum souvenir that bridges the gap between the National Gallery and a kitchen table in North West London.

A Hilly River Landscape, Aelbert Cuyp

The Visual: Cuyp’s Golden Glow

The front of the card features a vibrant reproduction of Cuyp’s masterpiece (originally painted between 1620 and 1691). Aelbert Cuyp was renowned for his ability to capture the "golden hour," and this landscape is no exception.

In the scene, a rider in a striking red coat sits atop a dappled grey horse, surveying a peaceful pastoral scene. Below him, a group of cattle and sheep rest in the lush grass, while a woman in a blue dress stands nearby, accompanied by two attentive hounds. In the middle distance, the hazy silhouette of a tower or ruin sits against a sun-drenched hillside, while a river winds its way toward the horizon.

This image isn't just a landscape; it is an idealized vision of harmony between man, beast, and nature. By the time this postcard was produced by Fine Art Engravers, Ltd. for the Trustees of the National Gallery, Cuyp's work had become a staple of British aesthetic appreciation.

The Message: Supper Parties and Cornwall Adventures

While the front offers timeless Dutch beauty, the reverse provides a lively, modern dispatch written in flowing teal ink. Sent to a Robina at 23 Chalcot Cres., London NW1, the message is a delightful thank-you note from a woman named Lisa.

Lisa writes:

"Thank you for the most lovely supper party the other night—I much enjoyed meeting everyone—for various different reasons!"

This small detail—the "various different reasons"—adds a wonderful touch of mystery and social intrigue to the card. It suggests a night of stimulating conversation and perhaps a few eccentric characters. Lisa goes on to mention her attempts to coordinate with a mutual friend:

"I had hoped to be able to write & say I'd fixed up a day with Alison Norman, but I haven't been successful in finding her yet."

Finally, Lisa mentions her recent travels:

"I have been away to Cornwall & had a windy & rather energetic holiday. I do hope you are now fully recovered."

This transition from the idealized hills of a Dutch painting to the "windy & energetic" reality of a Cornish holiday is exactly why I love collecting these cards. They anchor high-brow art in the low-brow reality of post-holiday fatigue and social scheduling.

The Artifact: A National Gallery Souvenir

This specific card is No. 1296 in the National Gallery’s series. It was printed in Great Britain by Fine Art Engravers, Ltd., a firm known for their high-quality reproductions. Unlike the early 20th-century cards in my collection, this one lacks a postage stamp, suggesting it might have been enclosed in an envelope or hand-delivered.

The address—23 Chalcot Crescent—is a notable detail for any Londoner. This iconic, curved street in Primrose Hill is famous for its pastel-coloured houses and has been home to many writers and artists over the years. Receiving a Dutch masterpiece through the door of a Primrose Hill townhouse seems perfectly in character for the neighbourhood’s artistic history.

Why Art Postcards Endure

Museum postcards like this one serve a dual purpose. For the sender, they are a way to signal their tastes and share a piece of beauty they encountered during a visit. For the recipient, they are a free piece of art that can be pinned to a corkboard or tucked into a mirror frame.

Looking at this Cuyp reproduction today, I’m struck by how the colours remain so vivid. The "National Gallery" branding on the back reminds us that these institutions have long understood the power of the postcard as a tool for democratizing art. Whether it’s a thank-you for a "lovely supper party" or a quick update on a "windy" holiday, the postcard ensures that even a 17th-century masterpiece has a role to play in 20th-century friendships.