An unusual photograph from Valentine’s and Sons Ltd, in their Sepiatype series. Three girls look down the road towards the photographer, but otherwise the scene is very peaceful. The postcard is unused. It took me a while to work out the viewpoint from which the photograph was taken, because the road has changed quite significantly, but the wall on the right, which is the rear wall of the churchyard, is the give-away. For those unfamiliar with the geography of Aberdovey, this is the road which, as you enter Chapel Square and face up Copper Hill Street, shoots off to the right, behind the big Wesleyan Methodist chapel.
A rainy morning and a grey, dull afternoon, but for a couple of hours in the middle of the day the sun came out. I walked down into the village in order to photograph the “today” version of a vintage postcard of Church Street (which I will post during the week), and to secure the ingredients for a leek mornay to accompany a nice looking piece of pork from the Aberdovey butcher. The walk down Balkan Hill is always enjoyable.
The snowdrops are beginning to go over, but many are still in bloom and other flowers are coming out on the verges. In spite of the sun it was breezy and there was a distinct bite to the air, so it was essential to keep moving. I didn’t go far because I had things to do in the garden, but when I noticed that the fish and chip shop was open, it was a no-brainer to go in, buy a “cone” of chips (actually in a box, but a cone-sized portion) and go and sit on one of the seats on the edge of the beach to watch the world go by.
The nice lady in the fish and chip shop agreed that it is simply wonderful to get even a morsel of sunshine after all the wind and rain, and she gave my chips the serious drenching of vinegar that I requested. The fish and chip shop, by the way, is now open from 12 noon to 8pm every day except Wednesdays, which is fantastic. I could never remember when they were open during the winter, but I now look forward to sampling their fish as well as their chips.
The benches on which I was sitting with my chips were a testament to the recent storms and high winds, half buried in sand, their legs vanished. Two seagulls and a jackdaw did their best to hypnotise me, but I resisted, as they become serious pests during the tourist season. The chips were divine, reminding me vividly of standing in the queue for the Thames Clipper, the river bus, with an actual cone of chips after a frequent trip to the cinema in Greenwich. Bizarrely, the sand in my chips also reminded me of crossing the Western Desert of Egypt to the Libyan border; Everything you eat out there has sand in it, no matter how carefully one packs the food, and it grates on one’s teeth. The state of mummified ancient Egyptian teeth, having chewed endless loaves of ancient Egyptian bread liberally mixed, albeit unintentionally, with abrasive desert sand is something to behold. A study of 3000 mummies by the University of Zurich showed that 18 percent of all mummies in case reports showed “a nightmare array” of dental diseases. Trivia for the day 🙂
A number of shops were open along the front, and it was very cheering to see the village coming back to life. The Sweet Shop was open, but sadly after all those chips I had no room for a salted caramel ice cream! I stopped to watch the silvery water of the estuary and the seagulls at the water’s edge instead, before trudging back up the hill to experiment with my new chainsaw.
This lusciously coloured postcard, which I have bought right at the end of my Vintage Postcard phase, is an unexpected treasure. When eBay presented it to me as a possibility following previous Aberdovey-themed postcard purchases, I thought it was such fun, but I hadn’t realized that it contained a secret surprise – a fold-out section consisting of twelve miniature black and white photographs on a paper strip, hidden underneath the flap at the base of the rose.
The card was posted in July 1956. Apparently the stamp fixed to the card was not sufficient, and a “postage due” stamp and mark have been added. The message is remarkably prosaic, given the romantic theme of the card.
I checked the weather forecast yesterday, and it said absolutely nothing, zero, zip, nada, about snow. But on drawing into Bala, a slightly blustery day turned into a minor blizzard and it didn’t let up until I was passing Wrexham. I do the round trip from Aberdovey to Chester and back again quite frequently, and the weather is rarely as predicted, but often radically interesting in a rather challenging way!
These postcard images speak for themselves. Both were unsent. Lovely Sierd Jan Tuinstra, who is an absolute fount of knowledge about Aberdovey, has provided the following information, with my sincere thanks:
As to their date, they were both taken on the same day during the same flight. Probably sometime in the 1920’s . They pop up on eBay every now and then, and I have a slightly different copy of the top card a few years back, which was posted in 1928. There is a third view from the same flight.
Commercial air photography didn’t exist prior to 1919. But after the war, ex RAF reconnaissance officers started the air photographing business using their hard won knowledge and experience.
I instantly noticed the railway wagons in the three postcards. Two of them can be readily recognized as Great Western wagons, thereby dating the view to after 1923. In every one of the postcards their position and that of the other wagons is exactly the same, meaning that all three views must have been taken on the same day.
Cadair Idris, the Chair of Idris, the local giant, is a dominant feature of the area. I’ve walked to the summit a number of times on the Minffordd Path, but that was many years ago and I’ve no idea where those photographs are now. When spring arrives it will certainly be time to do it again. The first photograph (Valentine’s AG105), which is unused, superbly captures the solid mass of Cadair Idris, its massive presence. The sharp outcrop in the foreground is both a great piece of photographic composition and a reminder of the enormous geological forces that lifted up the Welsh hill ranges. Below it, a well-used track carves a route well into the distance.
Painting of Pen y Gader, the summit of Cadair Idris, by Thomas Compton 1812-1818 (lithographer Daniel Havell). Source: Wikipedia, via the National Library of Wales
Cadair Idris was a popular destination from at least the late 1700s, when tourists were first attracted to Llyn Cau, the glacial cwym lake. Llyn Cau has attracted tourists ever since, and it became a popular destination throughout the 19th Century. Richard Wilson painted Llyn Cau in the late 1700s, and early 19th Century artists continued to produce various interpretations of Cadair Idris, including Edward Pugh (1816), John Skinner Prout (1830), Samuel Jackson (1833) and Sidney Richard Percy (1874). A painting by Compton is shown here on the left, and some other examples can be seen on the Campaign for National Parks website. A few brave souls reached the summit, like Thomas Compton who painted it in the early 19th Century. At 2927 feet the summit and highest point of of Cadair Idris is called Pen Y Caer.
What is remarkable about the summit postcard to the right is that the women reached the summit in those long skirts! What a nightmare, even if they took one of the easier routes. All were sensibly armed with sticks, but their footwear is hidden from sight. They look as though they are heading out for a shoot. That photograph (Valentine’s 32025), was postmarked1918. The message on the back, sent to Derby, says that the writer hopes to climb it one night! The mind boggles, quite frankly.
An hour in the garden between 1100 and 1200 for the Big Garden Birdwatch 2020 this morning produced the following bird count. I do lure birds in with peanuts, mealworm and nyjer seeds, so the deck is stacked in my favour. Not putting in an appearance during that hour were other visitors that I see most days including magpies, collared doves, great tits, wood pigeons and rarer visitors like coal tits (which were regular visitors last year but are few and far between this year), greenfinches and house sparrows. There were six goldfinches on the feeder during the hour, but looking out of the window there are now nine of them all fighting for a position on a feeder that can handle a maximum of six. The pheasants are tame and queue up outside the kitchen door to be fed peanuts.
Aberdovey Londoner 
