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CB Radio: Taking The Mic
Some finds at Charing Cross Market take a little decoding. This enamel badge comes with a number, a story and a rather pressing explanation.
The clue is ‘10-100’. If you know your CB radio codes, you may already be smiling. For everyone else, it means a toilet break: a discreet way to announce that you’ll be off air while you attend to something more urgent.
Suddenly, a puzzling little badge makes perfect sense.
Thought to date from the 1970s, it’s a small souvenir of CB radio culture, when conversations over the airwaves came with their own vocabulary. A few numbers could get a message across without spelling everything out. In this case, probably a kindness to everyone listening.
It also shows how much interest can hide in an apparently modest object. You don’t need a precious metal, a famous signature or a grand historical occasion to find something worth investigating. Sometimes, an enamel badge and a baffling number are enough.
That’s part of the pleasure of browsing Charing Cross Market. Something catches your eye, curiosity takes over, and a little research reveals a story you weren’t expecting. This particular discovery just happens to concern someone who couldn’t stay on the air much longer. A small badge, then, with a surprisingly human message.
10-4, Rubber Duck!
‘Resurgam 1940’
At first glance, these two small enamel badges appear to be identical.
Both date from 1940 and carry the words ‘Resurgam 1940’ over a design combining the Union Jack with the French tricolour. Turn them over, however, and an important difference appears.
One carries a membership number together with a raised ‘S’, denoting a supporter. Badges such as these were issued by Les Français de Grande-Bretagne, a civilian organisation created in 1940 to support the Free French cause through practical help and fundraising.
The organisation brought together French people living in Britain who wanted to continue supporting their country during the war. Its activities were centred in London, with Trafalgar Square playing an important part in its early story – just a short distance from Charing Cross Collectors Market.
The badges themselves are small gilt-brass pieces, measuring around 20mm across. At their centre is the French tricolour, laid over the Union Jack, with ‘Resurgam 1940’ picked out prominently across the front.
Despite its French connection, ‘Resurgam’ is not French at all. It comes from Latin and means ‘I will rise again’ – a particularly powerful choice of words in 1940. The reverses are marked ‘H.W. Miller Ltd, Branston St, B’ham’, identifying the Birmingham manufacturer.
There was also a more temporary version of the design. Paper and foil badges were produced for fundraising, similar to the pin badges sold on flag days during the First World War.
More than 80 years later, these little badges are reminders of the links between Britain and France at one of the most difficult moments in their shared history – and of the civilian organisations and individual supporters who played their own part in the war effort.
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.
A Pound That’s Worth More Than A Pound
At first glance, this £1 note might look like a slightly unfamiliar piece of British currency.
Look a little closer, though, and you’ll see that it was issued not by the Bank of England but by the States of Guernsey.
Guernsey has a long tradition of issuing its own notes and coins, with its currency maintained at parity with sterling. While Guernsey currency is intended for use within the Bailiwick rather than as legal tender throughout the UK, the familiar dimensions and appearance of the coins in particular mean that examples can sometimes find their way into everyday circulation elsewhere.
That makes Guernsey money an interesting little collecting area in its own right.
Michael tells us that notes and coins in particularly good or near-uncirculated condition will often sell for considerably more than their face value, with older issues tending to become more desirable once they have been replaced.
The note pictured is a States of Guernsey £1 note featuring Daniel De Lisle Brock, Bailiff of Guernsey from 1762 to 1842, alongside an image of the Royal Court in St Peter Port.
And while its printed value may be just £1, this particular example is currently available at Charing Cross Market for £4 — a nice illustration of how even relatively modern currency can become something rather more interesting once it enters the world of collecting.
Sailor Sam Goes To War
During the Second World War, even small badges could play a part in supporting those serving overseas.
These wonderfully characterful Sailor Sam badges were produced in Pretoria, South Africa, during the 1939–45 war and sold to raise money for comforts for service personnel.
There were two main versions: Sailor Sam and Officer Sam. With their broad smiles and jaunty uniforms, they’re cheerful little objects, but the money they raised had a practical purpose. It helped to provide knitted items like socks, scarves, gloves and balaclavas.
For the Christmas 1944 campaign, another badge was produced featuring the wife of General Jan Smuts. Around the portrait are the words “22nd Dec 1944 S.A. Gifts and Comforts”.
It makes for an interesting little group of wartime souvenirs. Unlike formal military badges, these were intended for the public to buy and wear, combining fundraising, patriotism and a touch of humour.
Today they are reminders of the enormous amount of voluntary work that took place away from the battlefield, and of how something as simple as buying a small badge could contribute towards keeping a serviceman warm thousands of miles away.
They are also exactly the sort of item that can make a miscellaneous badge collection fascinating. A smiling sailor or officer might look like little more than a novelty at first glance, until you discover the story behind it.
New Journeys for Old Stamps
With the cost of sending a First Class letter or card now £1.80, here’s a way to make posting something a little more interesting and, potentially, quite a bit cheaper.
Many dealers at Charing Cross Collectors Market sell unused older commemorative stamps in quantity for around half their face value. And although they may have been issued decades ago, these special stamps can still be used for postage today.
Simply combine enough valid stamps for their printed values to add up to the postage required.
It’s something stamp auction houses have long done when sending out their catalogues, but there’s no reason collectors can’t have a bit of fun with it too.
A birthday or Christmas card covered with colourful old stamps immediately looks more special than one carrying a single modern stamp. Better still, you can choose designs that mean something to the person receiving it.
Someone interested in naval history might appreciate an HMS Warspite stamp. A music lover could receive one featuring Elgar, Handel or Holst. Others might recognise old British Council designs, textiles, Scouting or a host of other subjects commemorated by Royal Mail over the years.
It turns the envelope into part of the present and gives those unused stamps a purpose beyond sitting in a stock book.
And who knows? An interesting stamp arriving through the letterbox might even be enough to start a new collector off.
Before the Blue: The Legacy of the White Fiver
Before the colour, before the plastic, and long before security holograms, there was the White Fiver. Issued from the late 18th century until 1957, it was one of the longest-running banknote designs in British history, and certainly among the most iconic.
The note shown here dates from 1945 and features elegant copperplate script promising to pay the bearer five pounds. The engraved Britannia in the top corner is the only visual decoration, but the bold Five in gothic type leaves no doubt about its value.
It was a serious note, both in function and in feel. Five pounds in the 1940s could buy a week’s holiday, a decent suit, or 120 pints of beer. For most people, it was not something you’d carry daily.
Collectors today look for condition, signatures, and specific issues from wartime or early print runs. Many were cancelled or destroyed when the new blue fiver was introduced in 1957, a note that brought colour printing and a portrait of Queen Elizabeth II to the forefront. That modern design looked forward. The White Fiver looked back.
What it lacked in flair, it made up for in weight, confidence and a kind of no-nonsense authority that feels far removed from today’s polymer currency.
