Deltiology

I'm really enjoying reading around a number of subjects for the annotations I'm writing for Postcard for Miss Smith. 

I've been looking into the history of postcards and postcard collecting which I've found out is known as deltiology.

When I was writing the annotations for I Think I Prefer the Tinned Variety: The Diary of a Petty Officer in the Fleet Air Arm during World War II I was greatly assisted by my local public library.  Well, once again they've come up trumps and provided a wealth of volumes from their "stack" at County Library HQ.

If you're interested in finding out more about deltiology all these books are interesting:

Bonynge Richard "A Collector's Guide to Theatrical Postcards" (B.T. Batsford Ltd 1988).

Byatt Anthony "Collecting Picture Postcards - an introduction" (Golden Age Postcard Books 1982).

Chapman Philip J. "Illuminating your Family History with Picture Postcards" (Federation of Family History Societies 2000).

Connor Chris "Postcards: A Collector's Guide" (Miller's 2000).

Duval William and Monahan Valerie "Collecting Postcards 1894 - 1914" (Blandford Press 1978).

Holt Tonie and Valmai "Picture Postcards of the Golden Age" (MacGibbon and Kee 1971).

By the same authors - "Til the Boys Come Home: the Picture Postcards of the First World War" (Macdonald and Jane's 1977).

Kay George F. "Royal Mail" (Rockliff 1951).

Klamkin Marian "Picture Postcards" (David and Charles 1974).

Clogs and Pattens

Elsie Smith

I've mentioned my paternal grandmother elsewhere on my blog and also in my book I Think I Prefer the Tinned Variety: The Diary of a Petty Officer in the Fleet Air Arm during World War II. She was Elsie Smith born in 1885, daughter of Joseph Smith (1849 - 1923) and Eliza Hall (1856 - 1931). Joseph was an Inspector for a section of the Barnsley Canal and for decades they lived in the Bridge House on the side of the canal in the village of Royston in South Yorkshire.

Tracing back two generations, Elsie's grandfather was Thomas Hall (1808 - 1892). His occupation was a clog and patten maker. I knew what clogs were but had never heard of pattens. I assumed they must have something to do with footwear and this proved to be correct as pattens were in fact a form of clog. They were an overshoe worn to raise the wearer above the mud and manure of the street in a time when paving was minimal. The height varied but could be as much as 10 cms. The base was fastened over the ordinary shoe with leather straps and was made of wood and later wood and metal. They had largely gone out of use by the end of the nineteenth century. They were worn by women more than men who had the alternative of riding boots. Pattens were removed along with coats and hats when going indoors and always removed at the porch in church.

There's a reference to patten wearing in Jane Austen's Persuasion and a very interesting article with illustrations at Jane Austen'sWorld.

Home Sweet Home

In the introduction to I Think I Prefer the Tinned Variety: The Diary of a Petty Officer in the Fleet Air Arm during World War II  I make the point that the majority of volunteers into the armed forces for the duration of WW2 had had little expectation of global travel prior to the war.

When he signed up for the Fleet Air Arm of the Royal Navy in 1943 my dad, Norman Buckle, had only ever been on holiday to a few seaside resorts such as Scarborough, Blackpool and Morecambe. He rarely went more than a few miles from home and usually this was on his bike.

His war-time experiences took him over 4,000 miles from South Yorkshire to the coast of West Africa and over 12,000 miles to the Pacific Island of Ponam via Sidney in Australia.

Norman was born in 1924 in Royston, a coal mining village in South Yorkshire. His mother's family (The Smiths) had moved to Royston in about 1880 and his father's family (The Buckles) had gone there in the late 1890s.

The Smiths came from Monk Bretton which is about 3 miles from Royston where they had lived for many years. The Buckles came from Harthill where they'd lived since the 1840s and which is about 25 miles from Royston. Not much action going on there then!

After he returned from his global trek Norman settled again into his parents' home in Royston but it wasn't long before he was on the move again: the first of several re-locations not only for himself but also for his wife and children.

H.M.S. Royal Arthur

Norman aka Lofty is far left, second row from back

When my dad first joined the Royal Navy in October 1942 he was sent for initial training to H.M.S. Royal Arthur. This was a naval shore base at the Butlin's Holiday Camp in Skegness, Loncolnshire which the Royal Navy had taken over for training purposes at the start of the war.
My dad was just over eighteen and a half years old when he signed up as a wartime volunteer. He was almost 6' 1" tall and for that reason was nick-named "Lofty".
Recently a friend has been doing some delving into his own father's World War II story; he's found that his father trained at H.M.S.Royal Arthur too. However his dad met a local Skegness girl and the rest, as they say, is history.
There's a great Pathe News clip of some new recruits at H.M.S. Royal Arthur if you follow this link: http://www.britishpathe.com/video/hms-royal-arthur

If you want to read more of the book follow either of these links to read a free sample:


http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B009QXEUG2

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B009QXEUG2

Tin-fished in the Bay

When my dad set off on his long journey to Sierra Leone in October 1943 he noted in his diary that he'd thrown a coin into the river for luck when crossing the Forth Bridge by railway on the way to Liverpool Docks for embarkation.

Wednesday 13^th October 1943

"Left Dunfermline on the 4.45 for Glasgow. As we went over the Forth Bridge threw a halfpenny over for luck, although I reckon that won’t be much good if we get “tinfished” in the Bay."

Tinfished meant being torpedoed.

When I found the poem by Rudyard Kipling about "pack drill" which I referred to in a previous post I also found this poem entitled "Tinfish" written by Kipling during the First World War.

"Tin Fish"

The ships destroy us above

  And ensnare us beneath.

We arise, we lie down, and we move

  In the belly of Death.

The ships have a thousand eyes

  To mark where we come . . .

But the mirth of a seaport dies

  When our blow gets home.

I don't know where my dad got the expression "tinfished" from but he did like Kipling's writing so maybe he'd read this poem at school or in a library book.

Link to amazon uk bookpage