A couple of week’s ago my wife and I went into our local village, where there is a small antique’s shop.
Here a regular pastime is to spend the odd tenner or two on something for the house.
This particular week my wife challenged me to try and find something valuable for £1.
So off I went, dubious in my task and doubtful in my future success. Until that is, I came across this postcard.
It was the architectural subject which caught my eye.
Le Tour St-Firmin, Abbeville, France.
I had been there to visit the grave of my Great Grandfather who is buried there amongst the ranks of 1WW soldiers.
There was a short message on the back, it read:
“Thursday Sept 14th 1916
Just a wee card to let you know that I am in the land of the living with much love
After reading the message, my eye caught the big red mark on the top left hand corner:
What I had found for a pound was a stifled, muted message from the heart of the killing fields of France.
A brief censored note in respectful pentameter innocent of the horrors still to be witnessed beyond 1916.
What I had found for a pound was priceless.
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