Wish You Were Here: A Sun-Drenched Escape to Miesbach, Upper Bavaria

 There is a specific kind of magic found in the tactile nature of an old postcard. Holding a piece of mail that travelled across borders decades ago connects us to a specific moment in time—a snapshot of a world before instant messaging, where the "wish you were here" sentiment was penned with ink and patience. Today, we’re diving into a beautiful multi-view postcard from my personal collection, sent from the heart of Upper Bavaria (Oberbayern) to a bustling kitchen in Somerset, England.

This isn’t just a piece of cardstock; it’s a portal to the Alpine foothills, a testament to mid-century travel, and a cheeky nod to the universal desire to swap a hot stove for a cold beer.

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The Visual Journey: Miesbach in Technicolor

The front of the postcard is a classic "Gruss aus" (Greetings from) style montage, featuring eight distinct views of Miesbach and its stunning surroundings. The colour saturation suggests a mid-20th-century printing process, likely a colorized photograph or early offset lithography, giving the Bavarian landscape that iconic, dreamlike vibrance.

1. The Heart of the Town: Miesbach & Marktplatz

The top-left and top-right panels introduce us to the town itself. Miesbach is the seat of its namesake district and sits nestled in the Mangfall Mountains. The Marktplatz (Market Square) view is particularly fascinating for history buffs—just look at those vintage cars! We can spot the rounded curves of several Volkswagen Beetles and early European sedans, which help us narrow down the era.

2. Spiritual Landmarks: Stadtpfarrkirche & Am Michelsbrunnen

The Stadtpfarrkirche (Town Parish Church), dedicated to St. Mary, stands tall with its distinctive onion dome—a staple of Bavarian architecture. In the centre, we see the Michelsbrunnen, a fountain featuring Saint Michael, located in the town square. This fountain has long been a meeting point for locals and travellers alike.

3. Alpine Escapes: Schliersee & Tegernsee

Miesbach serves as the gateway to some of Germany’s most famous lakes. The bottom panels show Schliersee and Tegernsee. These glacial lakes, framed by the towering Alps, have been premier "Sommerfrische" (summer retreat) destinations for centuries. Even in this small format, the crystal-blue water and the sharp peaks of the mountains invite the viewer to breathe in the crisp mountain air.

4. Daily Life: Post, Bahnhof, and Knabenschule

The card also highlights the town’s infrastructure, showing the Post and Bahnhof (Post Office and Railway Station) and the Knabenschule (Boys' School). These inclusions tell us that Miesbach took pride in its modernization and civic buildings during this period.

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Decoding the Message: "No Hot Kitchens!"

While the front of the card is a beautiful travelogue, the back provides the human story. The message is addressed to the "Kitchen Staff" at the Manor Hotel in Yeovil, Somerset, England.

The text reads:

"Dear Chef, Paul & Alec, life in the beer-halls is fun!! The sun shines—90°F!!!—life is quite pleasant—no hot kitchens!!! Sarah."

Sarah’s message is relatable to anyone who has ever worked a high-pressure job. It seems she was a member of the Manor Hotel’s culinary team taking a well-deserved break. Her playful dig at the "hot kitchens" while she enjoys the 90-degree Bavarian heat (a rare scorcher for the region!) highlights the freedom of the traveller. The mention of "beer-halls" confirms she was soaking up the authentic Bavarian experience—likely enjoying a Helles or a Weissbier in one of Miesbach’s traditional taverns.

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The Detective Work: Dating the Postcard

As a collector, one of the most exciting tasks is pinpointing exactly when a card was sent. We have several clues on the reverse side:

• The Stamp: The card features a red 60 Pfennig "Deutsche Bundespost" stamp. This stamp is part of the Industrie und Technik (Industry and Technology) definitive series. Specifically, it depicts a Röntgengerät (X-ray machine). This series was first issued in the mid-1970s (1975 onwards).

• The Postmark: If we look closely at the circular cancellation stamp from Miesbach, we can see the date 25. 8. 81. This places Sarah’s vacation squarely in the late summer of 1981.

• The Temperature: Sarah mentions it is 90°F. In August 1981, Europe experienced several heatwaves. While 90°F (approx. 32°C) is high for the Alps, it perfectly aligns with a peak summer "hitze" (heatwave) that would make a cool beer hall much more appealing than a professional kitchen in Yeovil.

• The Destination: The Manor Hotel in Yeovil is a historic building that still stands today. Knowing that Sarah sent this to "Chef, Paul, and Alec" adds a wonderful layer of local Somerset history to this German souvenir.

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Bavaria in the 80s: A Cultural Snapshot

In 1981, Miesbach would have been a town caught between tradition and the burgeoning tourism of the late 20th century. The "beer-halls" Sarah mentioned were (and are) the social centers of the community. In Upper Bavaria, these aren't just places to drink; they are places where Gemütlichkeit—that untranslatable German word for cosiness, cheer, and social belonging—is practiced daily.

The postcards of this era often used "Lübeck" printing houses (as seen on the vertical text: Verlag Schöning & Co + Gebrüder Schmidt - Lübeck). This company was one of the giants of the German postcard industry, responsible for documenting thousands of towns across the Federal Republic.

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Why Postcards Still Matter

In a world of Instagram stories that disappear in 24 hours, this postcard has survived for over 40 years. It tells us about:

1. Postal History: The cost of sending a card from Germany to England in 1981 (60 Pfennig).

2. Social Connections: The camaraderie of kitchen workers.

3. Geography: The enduring beauty of the Tegernsee and Schliersee regions.

Sarah probably didn't think her quick note to the Chef would be analysed decades later, but that is the beauty of the written word. It preserves a moment of joy—a sun-drenched day in Miesbach where the only worry was how cold the next beer would be.

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Final Thoughts

Whether you are a deltiologist (a postcard collector), a lover of Bavarian culture, or someone who appreciates a good "out of office" message, this Miesbach card is a gem. It reminds us that no matter where we are in the world, the need to step away from the "hot kitchen" of life and find a sunny spot with good friends is universal.

Exploring Akroyd Park, Halifax through a Vintage Lens

 The charm of a vintage postcard lies not just in the image it carries, but in the layers of history it invites us to peel back. Today, I’m sharing a beautiful piece from my personal collection: a hand-coloured postcard titled “The Lake, Akroyd Park, Halifax.” This isn't just a picture of a park; it is a snapshot of Edwardian leisure, industrial philanthropy, and the changing face of West Yorkshire.

Dating the Card: A Philatelic Mystery

When we look at the reverse of this card, we find several clues that help us pin down its origin.

First, the back features a "divided back" design. Prior to 1902, the British Post Office required the entire back of a postcard to be reserved for the address only. The fact that this card has a vertical line down the centre—allowing for a message on the left and an address on the right—tells us it was manufactured after 1902.

Furthermore, the stamp box notes that "Inland" postage was 1/2d (a half-penny). This rate for postcards was standard in the UK from the late Victorian era until 1918, when it rose to 1d. The "Printed in Bavaria" mark is another vital clue; before World War I, Germany (specifically Bavaria) was the world leader in high-quality lithographic printing. This trade largely ceased with the onset of the war in 1914.

The Verdict: While there is a handwritten date of "27.10.47" on the front, this likely refers to when a previous owner acquired or filed it. The physical manufacturing of the card almost certainly dates to the Golden Age of Postcards, roughly between 1905 and 1912.

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The Scene: A Glimpse of Akroyd Park

The front of the card depicts a serene, almost romanticized version of the lake at Akroyd Park. We see a rocky ornamental island in the foreground, a graceful swan, and figures dressed in Edwardian finery—long skirts and wide-brimmed hats—strolling along the manicured paths.

In the background, the distinctive chimneys of Bankfield Museum (formerly Bankfield House) peek through the lush trees. To the right, we see the elegant glass structures of the conservatories. It’s a scene of quiet dignity, designed to showcase Halifax not as a soot-stained industrial town, but as a place of refined recreation.

The Legacy of Colonel Edward Akroyd

To understand Akroyd Park, you must understand the man behind it. Colonel Edward Akroyd (1810–1887) was one of Halifax's most prominent textile manufacturers and philanthropists. He was the owner of James Akroyd & Son, one of the largest worsted manufacturers in the world.

Unlike many "mill barons" of the era, Akroyd was deeply concerned with the welfare and moral "improvement" of his workers. He built the nearby model village of Akroydon, designed to provide high-quality housing in a gothic style, ensuring his workers had light, air, and a sense of community.

Akroyd Park was originally the private grounds of his home, Bankfield House. In the late 19th century, the house and its sprawling 8-acre grounds were opened to the public. It served as a "breathing space" for the people of Boothtown and the wider Halifax area, offering an escape from the relentless pace of the mills.

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Akroyd Park Today: Then vs. Now

Looking at this postcard today, much remains recognizable, though time has inevitably marched on.

• Bankfield Museum: The house seen in the background is now a wonderful museum and gallery, home to world-class textile collections that honour the very industry that built the estate.

• The Lake: The ornamental lake shown in the card was a central feature of the Victorian landscape. While water features in public parks often face maintenance challenges over the decades, the topography of the park still retains that sense of tiered, grand design.

• The Atmosphere: While the "Sunday Best" attire of the visitors has been replaced by joggers and dog walkers, the park remains a vital green lung for Halifax.

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Why Collect Local History?

Items like this "Lion Series" postcard are more than just ephemera; they are primary sources. They capture the specific tint of the sky (as imagined by a colourist in Bavaria!) and the architectural pride of a town at its industrial peak.

For those of us in West Yorkshire, Akroyd Park is a reminder of a time when local industrialists felt a profound responsibility to invest back into the land and the people. Every time I look at the swan on that rocky island, I’m transported back to a Halifax of 115 years ago—a place of grand ambitions and quiet afternoons by the water.

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?