Postcards From The Edge

I came across these exquisite embroidered silk World War One postcards last week, while searching for ancient photos of my (overdressed) grandparents at the seaside.

They were sent home from the battlefront by my grandad, Tom Brown, and his brother, John, who both served in Cheshire Regiment. Sadly, only my grandad (pictured) returned from the war. John was killed in action on 3rd July 1916 in the Battle of the Somme (at Thiepval, France), aged 28.

The cards were tucked away in an envelope and beautifully preserved. They are yet more unexpected treasure from the trove of family memorabilia that I inherited from Mum and Dad after they died. Quite how I haven’t spotted them before, I don’t know.

They were too delicate to send as postcards and would have been mailed with an accompanying letter on special occasions. Only one has writing on the back: To Mother. Wishing Her Many Happy Returns of the Day. Tom & John.

Two have pockets with little cards inside, one with Christmas greetings, the other marking a birthday.

Looking up the history of silk postcards on the Imperial War Museum website, it says:

“The hand-embroidery is thought to have been carried out in domestic houses as ‘out-work’ by civilians in France and Belgium, and in the UK by Belgian refugees. The designs were repeatedly embroidered on rolls of silk. These were then sent to cities (mainly Paris) for cutting up, final assembly and distribution, in what was probably at that stage a factory operation.”

London Museum (opening November 2026) states:

“These silk cards were not cheap. Paper and ink shortage during the war had pushed up their price, and combined with the costs of silk and labour, the postcards could cost between 1 and 3 francs. This was about a day’s pay for many low-ranking soldiers.”

What a contrast between the beauty of these cards and the brutal conditions they were sent from.

I’ve written about grandad Tom before, but know little about his brother (pictured here). Among a few regular British seaside postcards from when they holidayed together when on army leave, I found this one from Bournemouth:

“Will you please send last night’s “football Echo”. We want to read account of Liverpool & Everton match. Yours. John & Tom.”

I think the whole family were football fans. Grandad Tom supported Tranmere Rovers, and I’ve written about how Nana Ada played football while the men were away at war.

John was a trench “runner”, taking a message to an officer, when he was shot by enemy fire. I don’t have any formal note of that, but I remember hearing it from grandad. Grandad and his sister later went to visit John’s grave at Lonsdale War Cemetery, Authuille, France.

The Next of Kin scroll given to the family after John’s death reads:

He whom this scroll commemorates was numbered among those who, at the call of King and Country, left all that was dear to them, endured hardness, faced danger, and finally passed out of the sight of men by the path of duty and self-sacrifice, giving up their own lives that others might live in freedom. Let those who come after see to it that his name be not forgotten.

Pte. John Duff Brown

Cheshire Regiment

Having inherited the scroll, I hope by writing about my great uncle John here that I’m doing my bit.

Still on history, I was delighted that Gordon’s story (my dad’s WW2 Spitfire pilot cousin), which I’ve told on Substack, has found its way back to his home city of Sheffield. Thanks to Christopher Hallam for covering it in the Sheffield Star newspaper on 26th June 2026. (It’s also on the Star’s website, but behind a paywall.)

I’m going to visit Gordon’s old school, High Storrs in Sheffield, at the end of July. Staff and students there have been following the story.

…to everyone who engaged with last week’s piece about what my grandparents wore on the beach and about Isle of Wight Festival. I mentioned the kerfuffle about female lead singers having the temerity to show underarm hair and was delighted to hear from Georgia Davies, bassist with The Last Dinner Party. She commented:

“Thank you for your words Wendy!! (I am a member of TLDP). We always find it quite surprising and baffling when body hair dominates discourse about us/Wet Leg, inevitably coming from men who have never even considered touching their own. The claims of poor hygiene or smell are such a double standard that it’s hard to believe people don’t catch it themselves. Luckily we live in a lovely bubble of female musicians who all reject this pressure to shave but when we leave this bubble it brings us back to reality, where indeed things seem to be regressing from the world of our hairy predecessors. And, being attractive to these kinds of people is the last thing we wanted to achieve as musicians. I’m glad you liked the show!!!”

Georgia has her own Substack titled The Hunger and the Road. I’m enjoying following along.

Yesterday Ian and I headed to the coast and jumped over the waves on the first anniversary of our civil partnership. So we were celebrating one year, or 40 years, together, depending on how you count it! Here’s last July’s piece about why we finally decided to make it legal.

Thanks for reading, and if you’ve any thoughts on today’s piece, I’d love to read your comments.

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Until next time!