Month: September 2026
White Russian Stamps, Grey Areas
A stamp has one obvious job. These five leave collectors wondering whether they ever got the chance to do it.
This set comes from the turbulent years following the Russian Revolution. Often described as ‘White Russian’ stamps, they are associated with General Bułak-Bałachowicz’s forces and were produced in Latvia in 1920. Their inscription reads ‘Asobny Atrad’, or ‘Special Detachment’, with the initials of the Belarusian People’s Republic beneath the illustration. Each stamp carries the same scene, printed in a different colour and value: 5, 10, 15 and 50 kopecks, and one rouble. The set pictured here has straight, hand-cut edges rather than perforations.
The stamps have appeared in books and catalogues for years, but their precise status remains a subject of debate. Were they made for limited use by the detachment, or were they principally labels intended to raise support and spread its message? That uncertainty is what makes them interesting. This unused set is valued at around £15. A convincing example used on an original envelope would be a very different find. It could offer evidence that the stamps actually travelled through the post, as well as a glimpse of where the letter went and who handled it.
For now, these five little pieces of paper carry a story rather than a letter: one of conflict, competing claims and a postal question collectors would love to answer. Come and see what stories are waiting to be found at Charing Cross Collectors Market this Saturday.
From Candle Making to Devotional Art
One of the joys of Charing Cross Collectors Market is that you never quite know what will turn up next. Among the coins, medals, watches and curiosities, occasionally something appears that is so unusual – and so fragile – that its survival is remarkable in itself. This wax icon of the Madonna and Child is a wonderful example.
Thought to have been made in France or Belgium around a century ago, it is a devotional object moulded entirely from wax. Despite the delicacy of the material, the relief remains remarkably complete, with the Madonna and infant Christ surrounded by ornate decoration and religious symbols. Turn it over and there is an intriguing clue to how, and perhaps where, it was made. The hanging cord appears to be made from the same type of material used for a candle wick.
That link is significant because religious wax-working developed alongside the making of candles in churches, monasteries and convents. Once the necessary skills and materials were available, wax could be used for much more than illumination. It could also be moulded into small devotional figures, plaques and shrines for private worship. Beeswax in particular became closely associated with the medieval Church. Unlike cheaper alternatives, it burns cleanly, produces little smoke and has a naturally pleasant scent. Beeswax candles were consequently prized objects and became an important part of church ceremonies throughout Europe.
Demand was considerable. Candles were required for Mass, baptisms, funerals and many other services, while some religious communities kept their own bees and produced their own candles. From that tradition came objects such as this one – something made from an everyday working material, but intended for a very different purpose. And considering just how easily wax can crack, soften, chip or break, perhaps the most extraordinary thing about this Madonna and Child is simply that, roughly a century later, it is still here.
Just another of the strange and wonderful survivors that find their way to Charing Cross Collectors Market every Saturday.
Through Adversity to the Stars
At just 3cm by 4cm, this week’s find manages to fit quite a lot of history into a small space.
Today we have a really quite unusual pendant bearing the badge of the Royal Flying Corps. Hand-engraved silver detail stands out against a dark shell background, with the RFC initials beneath a crown and the Latin motto on a scroll below: “Per Ardua ad Astra”, or “Through Adversity to the Stars”.
We would date this piece to 1912–1918, the short period in which the Royal Flying Corps existed. Formed on 13 April 1912, it merged with the Royal Naval Air Service on 1 April 1918 to become the Royal Air Force.
Look closely at the photograph and you can appreciate the work involved. The lettering, the leaves around the initials and the tiny details of the crown all sit within a pendant small enough to hold between finger and thumb.
We don’t know who originally wore it, or whether it was a gift. That part of its story remains a mystery. But someone took considerable care over this little piece, and it still rewards a closer look.
Our thanks, as always, to Michael of Anything Military for sharing another interesting find from the world of collecting.
Time Flies: A 1944 Air Ministry Aircraft Clock
At just 5.5cm across, this little clock is a reminder that some of the most interesting pieces of wartime history can be remarkably small.
Aircraft clocks of this type were fitted to many British aircraft during the Second World War, including the famous Spitfire and Hurricane. There was no single standard clock used across every fighter. Making components interchangeable and allowing different versions to be used helped keep wartime production moving.
This example has three fixing points which allowed it to be mounted directly into an aircraft’s instrument panel. Its black face carries the usual hour, minute and second hands, but also features a distinctive pair of red hands.
These are known as “dummy hands”. They could be set separately – commonly to record the start time of a flight – giving the pilot or navigator a useful visual reference while airborne.
Turn the clock over and much more of its story is revealed. The reverse carries the Air Ministry ‘AM’ marking, a clock speed regulator and the serial number 12766/44. Those final two digits give us the year: 1944.
For collectors, however, condition is not simply a question of whether the clock still works. Examples such as this are generally worth less than £100 whether working or not, and originality can be far more important. A clock that has been opened, altered or heavily repaired can lose much of its appeal and value.
Add documented provenance linking one to a particular aircraft or individual, though, and a seemingly modest instrument can become something much more significant.
It is exactly the sort of object that makes collecting militaria so fascinating: small enough to hold in your hand, but once part of the working cockpit of a wartime aircraft.
