Month: June 2026
A Token of Lincoln’s Gratitude

With the Great War finally over in 1919, communities across Britain looked for ways to thank the men and women who had served. Many towns and cities produced local tribute medals as public tokens of gratitude and remembrance.
This example was presented by the citizens of Lincoln on August 30th, 1919.
The front of the medal reads “Served in the Great War” with the dates 1914–1919. Its design brings together symbols of service on land, sea and air, including a field gun, naval ship, aircraft and airship. In the foreground, a kneeling soldier receives a laurel wreath from a classical figure representing victory.
The reverse reads “Token of Lincoln’s Gratitude” and carries the city arms with the motto “Civitas Lincolniensis”.
The medal is housed in its original leather-covered presentation case. The lining inside the lid reads:
Presented
by the Citizens
of Lincoln
August 30th, 1919
Around 4,000 of these medallions were presented in mid-1919, making them an important civic tribute from the city to those who served.
Some tribute medals were also produced in gold, usually in much smaller numbers. These were often funded by a local lord, lady or benefactor, and were sometimes named or regimentally numbered to the individual recipient.
This is a particularly complete survivor, retaining both the medallion and its original fitted case.



Bed, Brass and Beyond

Military duty plates, also known as bed plates, offer a small but revealing glimpse into everyday regimental life.
Usually hung from a bedpost or locker, these brass plates showed that a soldier was away on duty and therefore unable to be present during an inspection of his bed, uniform and kit. Some were engraved with the word ‘DUTY’ on the reverse, allowing the plate to remain in place and simply be turned around when needed.
Early versions were often simple pieces of brass with a slot into which the soldier’s regimental cap badge could be fitted, along with a hole for hanging. Names and service numbers were then punched or engraved into the surface. Some plates also carry a maker’s mark, with F. Narborough of Birmingham among the best-known suppliers.
The Somerset Light Infantry example pictured dates from around the early 1900s. The larger Scots Guards plate, complete with its top loop, is believed to date from the 1930s, before the Second World War. This general pattern remained in use until the 1950s, when duty plates largely disappeared from military life.
Also shown is an unissued Green Howards plate, with ‘DUTY’ lightly engraved on the reverse but no soldier’s details added.
Many plates were melted down during wartime metal shortages, making surviving examples particularly interesting. As with medals, those linked to unusual units or notable service histories can attract extra attention. Their aged patina is usually best left untouched, unless active staining threatens the metal itself.




Cover Stories

Close cousins of stamp collecting, covers are, in plain terms, envelopes that have travelled through the post. They show stamps doing the job they were made for, complete with cancellations, routes, redirections and the occasional extra mark that turns a simple envelope into a small historical document.
Collectors often look for the unusual detail: censor marks, military signatures, charity labels, propaganda seals or anything that reveals the story of the journey. The South African air mail cover shown here, postmarked 8 April 1943, is a fine example. Addressed to officers and men of the London 59th British Red Cross Society, Bermondsey Division, it carries an official seal and an officer’s signature, yet was still opened, checked by a censor, resealed, and given a unique censor number on the reverse. It then appears to have been redirected locally, adding another layer to its wartime travels.


The Canadian cover, postmarked Toronto on 14 December 1911, has a different kind of interest. Alongside the regular postage stamp is a festive Muskoka Free Hospital for Consumptives charity label, wishing “Merry Xmas 1911” and “Happy 1912 New Year”. The label promoted free care for people with tuberculosis, then commonly known as consumption.

Money to Burn

At first glance, a 100 million mark banknote sounds like unimaginable wealth. In Germany in 1923, it was closer to a symptom.
This Reichsbanknote belongs to one of the most notorious episodes in modern economic history: the Weimar hyperinflation. After the First World War, Germany was under enormous financial strain, but the crisis accelerated sharply in 1923 after French and Belgian troops occupied the Ruhr. The German government supported passive resistance by printing more money, and the mark’s value collapsed at terrifying speed.
By the autumn, prices were rising so quickly that money could lose value between being earned and being spent. Banknotes climbed from thousands to millions, billions and eventually trillions. In November 1923, the Rentenmark was introduced to restore confidence, with one new Rentenmark equal to one trillion paper marks.
What makes this note especially interesting is the reverse. Once near-worthless as currency, the blank back became useful real estate for politics. Here it has been overprinted with a message from the right-wing Deutschnationale Volkspartei, or German National People’s Party, using economic crisis as campaign material.
So this is more than inflation-era paper money. It is money after money stopped working: a banknote turned leaflet, a financial object turned political object, and a small survivor from a moment when value itself seemed to vanish.

