Settle: More Than Just a Stop on the Iconic Carlisle Line

Settle Railway Station. The very name conjures images of windswept Yorkshire Dales, the rhythmic chug of a diesel engine, and the promise of adventure along one of Britain's most celebrated railway lines – the Settle to Carlisle. But this unassuming station, nestled approximately a mile west of the charming market town of Settle, holds a history far more intriguing than its present-day modest appearance might suggest.

For those who simply see it as a convenient gateway to the Dales, it's worth knowing that Settle Station is actually the second to bear that name. The original "Settle" station, which opened its doors way back in 1849, is the very stop we now know as Giggleswick. Imagine the confusion for early travellers! It wasn't until May 1st, 1876, that our current Settle station came into being, initially grandly christened "Settle New Station." The original then became "Settle Old" before finally settling on the name Giggleswick in November 1877 – the same moment "New" was quietly dropped from Settle's title. A little bit of railway renaming trivia to impress your fellow passengers!

While the hustle and bustle of a major city station is absent here, Settle retains a certain charm. Staffed part-time, it offers a glimpse into a more traditional era of rail travel. And speaking of tradition, the connection between the platforms has its own fascinating tale. For years, passengers and porters alike relied on a simple barrow crossing at the northern end. But in 1993, progress arrived in an unexpected form. A bridge, made redundant by the electrification of the line at Drem Railway Station in East Lothian, was carefully dismantled and reassembled here in Settle. It's a testament to resourceful engineering, and as the author rightly notes, it blends in so seamlessly, you'd be forgiven for thinking it had stood there since the station's inception. Interestingly, the old barrow crossing still sees occasional use by station staff and wheelchair users, a tangible link to the station's past.

The historical significance of Settle Station hasn't gone unnoticed. In March 1984, it proudly gained Grade II listed status, recognizing its architectural and historical importance. Adding another layer to this historical tapestry is the beautifully restored signal box. Although it ceased operation in 1984, the dedicated efforts of the Friends of the Settle - Carlisle line have brought it back to its former glory, a silent sentinel overlooking the tracks.

These glimpses into Settle Station's past were captured on a sunny August day in 2016, through the lens of a Nikon D3300 SLR camera. These images likely tell their own story, freezing moments in time at a station that has witnessed generations of travellers embarking on their Dales adventures.

So, the next time you find yourself waiting on the platform at Settle, take a moment to appreciate the layers of history beneath your feet. It's more than just a stop; it's a living testament to the enduring legacy of the Settle to Carlisle Railway and a charming piece of Yorkshire's railway heritage.

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Cross Stone (St Pauls) Church, Todmorden.

The Calder Valley, a ribbon of green winding through the heart of West Yorkshire, holds its secrets close. Amongst its picturesque towns and alongside the tranquil flow of the Rochdale Canal, I'd often glimpsed a solitary silhouette perched high above Todmorden. This was Cross Stone Church, also known as St Paul's, a place that had long piqued my curiosity. Little did I know, the story held within its weathered stones was far more captivating than its distant view suggested.

Finally, on a crisp April day in 2017, armed with my trusty Nikon D3300, I made the climb. What I found wasn't a bustling place of worship, but a silent sentinel, a defunct church with a history etched into its very fabric. Built in 1832, St Paul's wasn't the first sacred space to grace this commanding spot. For centuries before, since at least 1450, earlier churches had stood watch over the valley, their stories now layered beneath the current structure like geological strata.

The year 1978 marked a poignant turning point. Declared unsafe, the church was abandoned, the ominous whisper of it "sliding down the hill" sealing its fate as a place of active worship. This sense of precariousness only added to the air of mystery that clung to the site.

But the history of Cross Stone Church extends beyond its structural woes. Imagine a time when Todmorden was a town divided, straddling the ancient border between Yorkshire and Lancashire. Perched on its hilltop, St Paul's served the spiritual needs of the Yorkshire community, while St Mary's catered to their Lancashire neighbours. The boundary changes of 1888 unified the town under the White Rose of Yorkshire, yet the legacy of this division lingers in the stories of these two churches.

As I wandered the grounds, the silence was broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant murmur of the valley below. It was then that I noticed the curious details that hinted at the church's long and varied past. And then there were the lower walls, where a certain "spooky setting" did indeed prevail, the weathered stone hinting at tales untold.

Perhaps the most intriguing discovery was tucked away on the east wall: a set of ancient stocks, now embraced by the untamed beauty of a wild garden. These silent restraints spoke of a time when public punishment was a visible part of community life, a stark reminder of the social structures of centuries past. To see them now, softened by moss and surrounded by wildflowers, was a powerful juxtaposition of harsh history and gentle nature.

My long-awaited visit to Cross Stone Church wasn't the vibrant exploration of a living parish I had perhaps naively envisioned. Instead, it was a journey into the quiet dignity of a forgotten place, a poignant encounter with history etched in stone and whispered on the wind. It served as a powerful reminder that even in abandonment, places hold their stories, waiting for a curious eye and an open heart to listen. The view from the hilltop, overlooking Todmorden and the valley beyond, was breath taking, but the true beauty lay in the silent testament of Cross Stone Church, a steadfast landmark bearing witness to centuries of change.

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Postcard's fom the Past. Fir Tree Pond, Royal Tunbridge Wells, Kent.

Our final glimpse into the past today takes us to the serene waters of Fir Tree Pond, nestled on the common in the elegant Royal Tunbridge Wells. This isn't just any picture postcard; it's a tangible link to a summer day over a century ago, a fleeting moment captured in ink and paper.

Imagine holding this very card, its edges softened by time and handling. It bears the indelible mark of its journey through the postal system: a clear postmark dated 3rd July 1913. Think of the world as it was then, just a year before the outbreak of the Great War, a world powered by horses and early automobiles, where communication relied on the steady rhythm of the postal service.

Affixed to the back is a humble yet significant detail: a King George V half penny green stamp. This small piece of adhesive paper, bearing the profile of the reigning monarch, speaks volumes about the era. It's a tiny window into the visual language and currency of the time.

This particular postcard wasn't merely a scenic view; it served its intended purpose. It was posted, embarking on a journey from the genteel surroundings of Royal Tunbridge Wells to a Miss Ratcliffe residing at 4 Market Street, Nottingham. One can almost picture the postman, perhaps on a bicycle, delivering this small piece of news.

And what news did it carry? Here, the story becomes a little more enigmatic. The handwritten message, faded and perhaps smudged over the years, proved a challenge to decipher. Yet, through the veil of time, fragments emerge. A polite acknowledgment: "thanks for a previous letter". This simple phrase hints at an ongoing correspondence, a connection between two individuals separated by distance.

Then, a universal observation, one that transcends time and place: "the weather was raining". A quintessential British summer's day, it seems, even in 1913! This small detail grounds the image, making the scene feel more real, more relatable. We can almost feel the dampness in the air, see the raindrops dimpling the surface of Fir Tree Pond.

Who was the sender? What were the contents of that "previous letter"? What were Miss Ratcliffe's thoughts upon receiving this damp missive? These are the silent questions that echo from this small piece of ephemera.

This postcard of Fir Tree Pond is more than just a pretty picture. It's a snapshot of a specific moment in time, carrying echoes of human connection and the everyday realities of life over a hundred years ago. It reminds us that even the simplest of objects can hold fascinating stories, waiting to be pieced together from the faint whispers of the past.

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A Glimpse Through Time: Leicester's Hospital, Warwick.

Holding this postcard, the familiar weight of aged cardstock in my hand, I'm transported not just to the charming medieval town of Warwick, but to a place steeped in history and quiet dedication: the Lord Leycester Hospital. It's more than just a picturesque building captured in sepia tones (or perhaps vibrant hues, depending on its vintage); it's a tangible link to centuries of care and service.

The subject of this particular piece of my ever-growing postcard collection is, as the name suggests, the Lord Leycester Hospital. But "hospital" in this context isn't the bustling medical facility we might imagine today. Instead, this remarkable institution stands as a beacon of enduring charity, a haven established in the late 16th century by Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Its purpose then, as it remains today, is to provide support and accommodation for ex-servicemen and their wives or widows.

Think about that for a moment. While grand castles and bustling market squares often dominate historical narratives, here we have a place specifically designed to care for those who have served their country. Each stone of the Lord Leycester Hospital whispers tales of loyalty, sacrifice, and the enduring need to support those who have borne the burdens of conflict.

Looking closely at the image on the postcard – perhaps it captures the iconic timber-framed architecture, the serene Master's Garden, or the imposing gateway – I can almost feel the echoes of past residents. Imagine the conversations held within those ancient walls, the camaraderie forged through shared experiences, the quiet dignity of lives dedicated to service.

This postcard, therefore, transcends its simple function as a piece of correspondence. It's a miniature window into a world where compassion and community have stood the test of time. It's a reminder that history isn't just about battles and monarchs; it's also about the enduring efforts to care for one another.

As a small part of my larger collection, this postcard of the Lord Leycester Hospital holds a special significance. It represents not just a beautiful building, but a powerful testament to the enduring spirit of human kindness and the importance of remembering and supporting those who have served. It's a story etched in ink and paper, a story I'm proud to hold within my hands.

What stories do your own collections hold? Have you ever encountered a seemingly simple object that unlocked a deeper understanding of history or human connection?

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A Century-Old Glimpse of Dartmeet, Devon

Holding this postcard, the smooth, slightly yellowed surface a testament to time, feels like cradling a tiny window into the past. It's more than just a piece of cardstock; it's a silent witness, a tangible link to a Devon landscape a century removed from our own.

The image itself captures the iconic meeting of the East and West Dart rivers at Dartmeet. Even in this static, sepia-toned moment, you can almost hear the gentle rush of water as the two streams embrace, their individual journeys merging into a single, stronger flow. The ancient clapper bridge, a rugged spine of granite, stands sentinel over the confluence, its weathered stones bearing the footsteps of generations.

Imagine the scene a hundred years ago. Perhaps a horse-drawn cart trundles across the bridge, its wheels echoing on the stone. Maybe picnickers, dressed in the fashions of the era, spread blankets on the riverbank, their laughter carried on the breeze. Were there anglers casting lines into the clear waters, hoping for a catch? The postcard doesn't tell us these stories directly, but it ignites the imagination, prompting us to fill in the details of a bygone era.

This isn't just a pretty picture; it's a historical artifact. Think about the journey this small piece of paper has taken. It was likely purchased as a memento, a tangible reminder of a visit to this beautiful spot. Perhaps it was sent to a loved one, carrying a brief message of "wish you were here" or a simple update on travels. Who held it? What were their lives like? Did they ever return to Dartmeet?

Holding this approximately century-old postcard connects me to those unknown individuals and to a version of Dartmeet that has undoubtedly changed, yet likely retains its timeless charm. The rivers still meet, the bridge still stands, and the beauty of the Devon landscape endures. This little piece of my collection isn't just a picture; it's a whisper from the past, a reminder of the enduring power of place and the stories held within the simplest of objects.

It makes you wonder, what stories will our postcards tell a hundred years from now?

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Venice: Day 1, 29 October 2018

Monday, October 29th, 2018. Our arrival in the fabled city of Venice was less a gentle gondola ride and more a wade into watery wonder. Instead of the postcard-perfect canals reflecting centuries of history, we were greeted by an altogether more dramatic scene: Venice submerged.

They say acqua alta, the high water, is a part of Venetian life. But the deluge that greeted us on our first day was something else entirely. Reports trickled in of the worst flooding in over a decade, the water levels in places, particularly around the iconic St. Mark's Square, creeping alarmingly close to three feet. The romantic notion of exploring the labyrinthine alleyways quickly dissolved into the more pressing reality of navigating a city rapidly turning into a temporary lagoon.

Our initial plans for a leisurely exploration were, shall we say, dampened. The heart of Venice, the areas we had dreamt of seeing first, were simply unreachable. Instead, our initial hours were spent confined to the periphery – the areas around the airport and our hotel becoming our unexpected initial playground.

But even in these less celebrated corners, the power and strangeness of the situation were undeniable. The familiar sounds of rolling suitcases were replaced by the slosh of water, the usual bustle punctuated by the lapping tide against doorways. Reflections danced on surfaces that should have been dry, turning ordinary streets into shimmering, albeit inconvenient, waterways.

Armed with whatever photographic tool came to hand – my trusty Sony phone for quick snaps, the surprisingly capable camera on my Amazon tablet, and my reliable Nikon D330 SLR for when conditions allowed – I tried to capture the surreal beauty of this unexpected introduction to Venice. These first images aren't of grand palazzos or bustling markets. They are a testament to the resilience of a city facing a formidable force of nature, a glimpse into the everyday adapting to the extraordinary.

They are pictures of a city holding its breath, waiting for the waters to recede, but even in its submerged state, radiating a unique and unforgettable charm. This wasn't the Venice we expected, but it was certainly a Venice we will never forget. Stay tuned for more as (hopefully!) the waters subside and we can venture deeper into the heart of this incredible, if currently very wet, city.

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Taken at the Venice airport boat moorings waiting for my transfer to the city.

This was my first proper land based view of Venice, taken from the boat landing area near
St Marks Square looking across the water to the church of San Giorgio Maggiore.

Looking down from my hotel room at San Marco Palace to the flooded courtyard below.

Flooding outside Doge's Palace at the entrance to St Mark's Square. The water got deeper than
this crossing the square, reaching chest height on me before I successfully reached my hotel.

The hotel steps.

I took this shortly after take off from Manchester Airport looking out across the Peak
District. The sun had not long since risen. At a guess I think the plane would have been
somewhere between Marple Bridge and New Mills.

The Hotel Steps again, looking up towards the sky light.

Looking down towards the Alps Mountain range somewhere near the borders of Switzerland,
Liechtenstein, Austria and Italy.

The rooftops of Venice viewed from my hotel room at San Marco Palace.

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Vintage Railway Posters of the World.

Currently sorting through my collection of images that I have acquired over the years trying to find stuff to do with them and found over 200 vintage railway posters. I have taken an initial 26 from them and turned them in to a slideshow - video, which can now be viewed both here and on YouTube. The posters are mainly from the United Kingdom but there are also posters from other parts of the world.

I purchased many of my images copyright free and as far as I am aware that is the case with these. if I am misinformed I will remove them if asked by the copyright holder.

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Raphael Kirchner.. Pin Ups and Vintage Girls.

Sometimes, the most unexpected discoveries land right in your lap. Recently, I stumbled upon a fascinating collection of images, a veritable time capsule brimming with the echoes of bygone eras. I'm told these pictures are copyright free, and as they sat there, a silent testament to forgotten artistry and cultural moments, I couldn't shake the feeling that they deserved more than just gathering dust.

Imagine leafing through a stack that includes vibrant old travel posters, each a miniature invitation to a world long past. Then there are the delicate autographs, whispers of famous hands and personalities. And let's not forget the captivating pin-up girls, each a unique expression of artistic style and societal ideals. The collection even holds a glimpse into the more discreet world of Victorian erotica, offering a fascinating, albeit perhaps blush-inducing, peek into the sensibilities of the time. Rounding it all off are portraits of celebrities, frozen moments of fame and recognition.

It felt like a disservice to keep these intriguing snapshots locked away. So, I decided to bring a small portion of this treasure trove to life. My first foray into sharing this collection focuses on the captivating work of Raphael Kirchner.

For those unfamiliar, Raphael Kirchner was an incredibly prolific Austrian artist, born on May 5th, 1875. Despite a tragically short life – he passed away on August 2nd, 1917, at the young age of 42 – Kirchner left behind an astonishing legacy of over a thousand paintings and drawings. His distinctive style, often characterized by elegant lines and a certain romanticism, captured the spirit of his era.

I've carefully selected 30 images from the Raphael Kirchner part of the collection and transformed them into a short slideshow video, now available for your viewing pleasure on YouTube. It's a small window into the artistry of Kirchner and a chance to appreciate the beauty and detail of his work.

This is just the beginning of exploring this fascinating collection. I'm excited to delve deeper into the other categories – the allure of vintage travel, the stories behind the autographs, the artistry of the pin-ups, the intrigue of the Victorian era, and the faces of fame.

Stay tuned for more glimpses into this unearthed world

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Whispers of Marble and Light: A Venetian Staircase Story

Venice. Just the name conjures images of shimmering canals, echoing footsteps across ancient stones, and a timeless beauty that seems to seep into the very air. My recent sojourn in this enchanting city was filled with such moments, each a tiny brushstroke on the canvas of a truly unforgettable experience.

While I could wax lyrical about gondola rides under moonlit bridges or the vibrant hues of Burano, today I want to share a glimpse into a more intimate space: the heart of the San Marco Palace Hotel, my temporary Venetian abode.

Now, let me be clear, this isn't a hotel review. Instead, it's a quiet appreciation for a single architectural marvel within its walls – the staircase.

From the moment I first laid eyes on it, this staircase commanded attention. It wasn't just a functional means of ascending floors; it was a statement, a piece of art carved into the very fabric of the building. Like so much in Venice, it possessed an aura of history, a silent testament to generations past.

My untrained eye could only surmise its composition, but it certainly appeared to be marble. Cool and elegant, the stone seemed to absorb and reflect the soft Venetian light in a mesmerizing dance of shadows and highlights. It formed a breath taking centrepiece to the section of the hotel where my room was nestled, a focal point that drew the gaze upwards with its graceful curves and solid presence.

I found myself pausing on the landings, not just to catch my breath after the climb, but to simply admire the craftsmanship. The way the light played upon its surface, revealing subtle veins and textures, was captivating. It felt like a whisper of the city itself, echoing the grandeur and artistry found around every corner in Venice.

Words can only do so much, so I'll let the images speak for themselves. Captured with the humble lens of my Sony Xperia phone, they offer a small window into the quiet majesty of this Venetian staircase.

These snapshots are merely fragments of a larger memory, but they serve as a reminder that beauty can be found in the most unexpected places. While my stay at the San Marco Palace Hotel was indeed pleasant – the rooms were clean, and the staff were genuinely helpful and welcoming, making it a place I'd happily recommend – it's this staircase that lingers most vividly in my mind.

It's a reminder that even in the midst of a bustling city, there are moments of serene beauty waiting to be discovered, etched in stone and illuminated by the unique light of Venice.

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