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Loving old photos! Timepix has 50,000 #OrdnanceSurvey #GreaterManchester #1950s pics, Plus #Victorian #Edwardian #postcard also @timepix@mastodonapp.uk

Somerton, England
Joined August 2016
Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)Photo by Timepix (@Timepixuk)
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c.1895. The height of Victorian fashion. Those extraordinary leg-of-mutton sleeves were all the rage in the mid-1890s, creating one of the most distinctive silhouettes of the decade. #Victorian #1890s #FashionHistory
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A few of the faces of our recent ancestors as they navigate post war London in 1948. Lost souls with lost stories forever caught in a fragment of time. ⏳️
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In 1929, Scottish author J.M. Barrie gifted the copyright of his Peter Pan plays and writings to the Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH), a children's hospital in London. Barrie asked that the exact financial value of the gift never be made public, and he re-confirmed the donation in his will when he passed away in 1937... By donating the rights, Barrie ensured that every time the Peter Pan play was staged, the book was sold, or merchandise was licensed, royalties went directly to support medical care for sick children. . . . In 1929, Scottish author and playwright J.M. Barrie made a profound gesture of generosity by gifting the full copyright of his beloved creation, Peter Pan, to the Great Ormond Street Hospital (GOSH) in London. Barrie had no children of his own and had developed a deep, lifelong bond with the Llewelyn Davies boys, who famously inspired the character of the Lost Boys, as well as a strong association with the hospital itself. When approached to help raise funds for a new hospital wing, Barrie chose to quietly hand over all rights to the plays, books, and adaptations, explicitly requesting that the total financial yield generated by the work remain confidential. For decades, the proceeds from stage productions, publications, and various media adaptations served as an invaluable, ongoing stream of funding for the children's hospital. However, under standard British law, copyright protections are temporary and eventually expire, which threatened to sever this vital revenue lifeline. Recognizing the unique and enduring humanitarian impact of Barrie's original gift, the British government intervened to protect the arrangement. Through a special provision written into the UK's Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, championed by political and hospital leaders, Great Ormond Street Hospital was granted the right to collect royalties from Peter Pan in perpetuity within the United Kingdom. This exceptional legal carve-out ensures that J.M. Barrie’s timeless legacy continues to support seriously ill children, blending literary history with lifelong pediatric care. While J.M. Barrie’s official gift to Great Ormond Street Hospital is widely celebrated, a little-known tragedy accompanied the later protection of the copyright. When the UK Parliament was debating the special perpetual royalty extension in the late 1980s, the legislation faced fierce opposition from publishers and theatre producers who argued against indefinite copyrights. During the high-stakes parliamentary negotiations, a key champion of the bill, Lord Callaghan, emphasized that Barrie's original handwritten 1929 deed was meant to shield the hospital from financial precarity because the Llewelyn Davies family, who had inspired the Lost Boys and were meant to be Barrie's financial heirs, had suffered a devastating string of early deaths, leaving no direct descendants to benefit from the estate anyway. #archaeohistories
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Arizona Territory, 1883. Seventeen-year-old Catherine “Cat” Dawson watched six rustlers murder her 22-year-old brother, James, and steal 200 head of cattle from their ranch. With the law days away and no one coming to help, she saddled her Appaloosa, took her father’s Winchester, and rode alone into the desert. Her father gave her four days to return. She disappeared into the wilderness, following broken branches, hoofprints and shifting sand, carrying grief that was slowly turning into determination. On the fourth morning, she found the six men hiding in a box canyon. What followed was a gunfight that would become a forgotten legend of the Arizona frontier. Using the sun, the rocky terrain and her knowledge of the desert, Cat outmanoeuvred the gang, killed several men and wounded their leader. When he begged for mercy, she chose not to kill him. Instead, she took his weapons and water and left him to face the consequences. Three days later, she returned home with all 200 cattle. She was covered in dust, exhausted and no longer quite the girl who had ridden away. Cat never spoke publicly about those four days. She married, raised daughters, worked the ranch and taught her children to ride, shoot and survive. When asked why, she simply said, “Because the world doesn’t always protect you.” Her obituary in 1932 celebrated her horsemanship and community service, but never mentioned that summer of 1883. Yet the old-timers remembered. History often celebrates lawmen and outlaws, but forgets the ordinary people forced into extraordinary circumstances. What would you have done at seventeen, if justice was four days away and the only person who could fight for your family was you?
Readers added context they thought people might want to know
This is a fictional story, not history. No records exist of a Catherine "Cat" Dawson or this 1883 gunfight. Near-identical unsourced versions have circulated online since at least December 2025, and the poster's bio says it shares fictional stories. x.com/protbestfrgctx… youtube.com/watch?v=T_P2-w…
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Timepix retweeted
Wedding dress by Coco Chanel, circa 1926.
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A traditional 19th-century shepherd, identified in historical records as Sussex shepherd David Breach (1847–1920), sitting beside a wattle hurdle fence with his sheepdog and a shepherd's crook.... David Breach lived from 1847-1920 and the photo was taken in East Dean probably in the early years of the 20th century. 'Shepherding sounds like a romantic and idyllic life to us today but in fact it was an extremely harsh existence. Apart from the obvious disadvantages of being out in all weathers, hours were long. It was also usually poorly paid and sometimes casual. The workhouse registers are full of people who list their occupation as ‘shepherd’ during these times. Because of this shepherds earned extra money where and when they could. In the Eastbourne area they would trap small birds during the summer to sell either as songbirds or, mostly, as delicacies for the tables of the rich. Some people would walk around the Downs finding these traps and would release the little captive leaving in its place ‘the pence of ransom’ – a few coppers as price of the bird. Others of course were not so honest. It seems that huge numbers of birds were killed in this way and it was said that a shepherd could earn as much as £50 in a season. Most of the birds caught were wheatears which were most prized, particularly by the hotel trade and it so seriously affected the population that by the early 1900’s it had begun to die out, simply because of the scarcity of birds. The sheep in the photograph are not clear but they look like Southdowns which are now classed as a rare breed. The photograph also shows the products of two ancient crafts. The fence is a hurdle, made by woven branches. Hurdle-making is a skilled craft but there are still people in Sussex who can do it. Mr Breach is wearing a smock. These were traditional garments for shepherds and were hard wearing, warm and loose fitting for comfort. When David Breach was buried a lock of wool would have been placed on his chest to show he was a shepherd so that God would excuse him for missed attendance at church.' #drthehistories
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France, 1897, a double-decker train more than 125 years ago! This remarkable early film shows a double-decker suburban train arriving at Joinville-le-Pont, just outside Paris, on the Vincennes railway line. These unusual carriages provided extra capacity for the growing numbers travelling between Paris and its suburbs. Passengers could travel on the open upper deck, reached by external steps. Filmed by French cinema pioneer Auguste Baron in 1897, it captures everyday commuters at a time when moving pictures themselves were still an astonishing new invention. #Paris #1890s #RailwayHistory #Trains #VictorianEra
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Tail gunner Lawrence Benner, on a Lancaster bomber, Royal Canadian Air Force, RAF Bomber Command, 1943.
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This extraordinary photograph shows HMS Foudroyant, launched in 1798 and once Admiral Horatio Nelson’s flagship in the Mediterranean. Nearly a century later, the veteran warship was being exhibited around Britain when, on 16 June 1897, a violent storm tore her from her moorings off Blackpool and drove her onto the sands near North Pier. Her crew were rescued, but Foudroyant could not be saved. The great wooden warship gradually broke apart, becoming an astonishing attraction for Victorian visitors who could walk right up to the wreck at low tide. A remarkable end for a ship that had served in Nelson’s navy. #VictorianBritain #Blackpool #RoyalNavy #Nelson
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Meet E. Lillian Todd, believed to be the first woman in the world to design an aeroplane. Here she is at the controls of the aircraft she designed and built in New York, 1909. Todd was largely self-taught, studying mechanics and experimenting with model aircraft before constructing her full-sized biplane. Although she never flew it herself, the aircraft successfully took to the air in 1910, piloted by Didier Masson. #Aviation #WomenInHistory #EdwardianEra
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Having your photograph taken on Clapham Common, around 1877. A nanny poses with the child in her care while a photographer takes their picture. That strange-looking cart beside them is his mobile darkroom, where the photograph could be developed on the spot. Photographers were a familiar sight on Clapham Common, particularly on Sundays and holidays. Photo by John Thomson, c.1877. #VictorianLondon #VictorianHistory #Photography
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An electric mobility vehicle… in 1915! A family surrounded by pigeons in an Electriquette at San Diego’s Panama–California Exposition. Designed by Clyde H. Osborn and built by his Electriquette Manufacturing Company in Los Angeles, these wicker-bodied electric mobility vehicles carried two people and were powered by a tiny ½-horsepower electric motor. Visitors could hire one for $1 an hour and quietly travel around the vast exhibition grounds at roughly walking pace, remarkably modern for 1915! #1910s #VintagePhotography #ElectricVehicles
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This very immediate gaze peers out at us from 111 years ago. Photographed in colour in May 1915, this young lady is Miss Rose Chapuy, a pupil at a Domestic School in Nancy, France (and looking very much like the Swedish activist Greta Thunberg!). I have cleaned up this wonderful Autochrome portrait by Auguste Leon, which was taken using an early colour glass-plate process and isn't colourised.
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Everton, Liverpool, 1973, photo by Mike Abrahams.
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For those of you taken by the Autochrome post yesterday, of the model Sarah Liévine looking like wild-child in 1907, you may be fascinated to see this alternative Autochrome of her, taken the same year by the same photographer André Hachette, showing a more demure side to her character. This portrait was taken in colour 119 years ago using an early colour glass-plate process. It isn't colourised.
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Unable to pay her rent, a mother with her two children is evicted by the landlord in rapid retribution and left on the roadside with her few meagre belongings... the-east-end.co.uk #eastend #history #poverty
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Edwardian ladies were so demure... or so the expectation goes, but this striking wild child of 1907 kicks against those expectations. This is Sarah Liévine, a model who became the subject of numerous Autochrome studies by the French pictorialist photographer André Hachette. This portrait was taken in colour 119 years ago, using an early colour glass-plate process. It isn't colourised.
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On this day in 1957, women's colleges at Oxford were finally accorded equal rights with the men's colleges. Yes, you read that correctly. 1957. First, though, a little history of Oxbridge’s long march (or perhaps that should be “sleepy stroll”) towards equality for women; mainly Ox-, it has to be said, with a dash of -bridge. In 1869, Emily Davies and Barbara Bodichon founded Girton College Cambridge, the first residential university college for women, with just five students. Newnham College followed two year later. Women’s colleges were not recognised by the University of Cambridge, nor were women awarded degrees even though their exams were just as rigorous. Instead, they received a Certificate of Proficiency which makes it sound as though they’d passed a basic cycling road safety test. Oxford lagged behind but Lady Margaret Hall opened in 1878 with nine students followed by Somerville in 1879 with twelve. You know the drill. They were not recognised by the University of Oxford either and they were not awarded degrees despite sitting the same exams as their male peers. Even so, a series of invisible tariffs were imposed that applied only to women. Women students had to be chaperoned if male students were present. They were allowed to sit the notoriously difficult Mathematical Tripos exams at Cambridge but their embarrassingly good results were, erm, glossed over. Philippa Garrett Fawcett, daughter of Millicent, was the first woman to obtain the top score in the Cambridge Mathematical Tripos exams. She knocked spots off the male second place candidate with a score a full 13% higher than his but was not awarded the much prized title of Senior Wrangler. Heaven forfend that a woman should beat a man. He was awarded HER title instead. Philippa was simply described as “above Senior Wrangler”. These days, Parkrun is doing its bit by letting men steal women’s records. Between 1904 and 1907, the Steamboat Ladies (women denied degrees at Oxbridge even though they met all of the requirements) - including Philippa - had to sail to Trinity College Dublin to be awarded an ad eundem degree, an academic degree awarded on the grounds of mutual recognition or equivalence. Trinity expected a handful of women to take up the offer. Over 720 did. On 7 October 1920, there was a step-change. Women could be awarded degrees at Oxford. Cambridge held out until 1928. In 1925, Somerville was granted its charter and the requirement for women to be chaperoned in the presence of male students was abolished but a curfew was put in place instead. You might ask which sensitive souls were these restrictions meant to protect? Well, eleven years earlier, the Head of Somerville had had to write to her female students about “a very tiresome complaint that the men examinees are disturbed by the way our students sit in their tight skirts and show their legs.” I’ve attached an illustration of those short tight skirts so you can see just how easily distracted those poor chaps were. It’s the 1st Rule of Misogyny: Women are responsible for what men do. In 1927, a limitation statute was introduced to limit the admission of those pesky women (by now qualifying for higher education in ever greater numbers) to no more than 840 students - roughly 15% of the undergraduate body. Do you know what that reminds me of? The decision to limit the vote in 1918 to women aged 30 or over who met an additional property qualification. WW1 had just concluded with a terrible loss of life and the government was frightened that female voters would far outnumber male voters if the vote was granted to them on equal terms with men. 21 years later - 1948 - the limitation statute was raised to 970. Probably because WW2 had just concluded with another terrible loss of life and universities were worried about their income. Convince me otherwise. Another nine years went by before the female quota was finally abolished, thirty years after it was first introduced. On 27 April 1948, women were admitted to full membership of the University of Cambridge, and Girton College received the status of a college of the university. 1959 brought another step-change. The five women’s colleges at Oxford (now including St Hilda’s, St Hugh’s and St Anne’s) finally received the same ‘full status’ as the men’s colleges, and their Heads became eligible to become Vice-Chancellor. At long last in 1961, Dame Lucy Sutherland (1903-1980) of Australia became the first woman Pro-Vice-Chancellor. That’s 92 years or about five generations of women at Oxbridge openly disadvantaged on the basis of their sex, but the woman who set the ball rolling was Emily Davies - and that’s where we started. In 1859, she made this vow to her friends, the Garrett sisters: “Women can get nowhere unless they are as well educated as men. I shall open the universities.” She kept her promise. So did they. Elizabeth Garrett Anderson vowed to open the doors for women doctors and Millicent Garrett Fawcett promised to achieve votes for women. Today, 57% of students enrolled in higher education are women but only 17% of vice-chancellors are female and the proportion of male staff on senior higher education contracts is almost three times higher than it is for female staff. Remember that the next time a university pats itself on the back for its commitment to inclusion.
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She was only a teenager when men began arguing over who would own her. Not because she had committed a crime, but because the world she had been born into was disappearing around her. As the Armenian genocide swept across the Ottoman Empire during the First World War, Aurora Mardiganian watched neighbors disappear and family members murdered. Then she was taken captive and forced into sexual slavery. She was passed from one captor to another before ending up inside a harem, where young women were treated as possessions. Stories circulated about girls who disappeared after refusing advances. Aurora never stopped looking for a chance to escape. Against extraordinary odds, she found one. Her journey took her across deserts, through refugee camps, and eventually to New York City in 1917. Many survivors tried to bury memories like hers. Aurora chose a different path. She believed the world needed to know what had happened. She wrote a memoir titled *Ravished Armenia*. Then she portrayed herself in the silent film adaptation. She reenacted some of the worst moments of her own life in front of a camera, hoping strangers might finally believe what so many people would rather ignore. The film shocked audiences, raised money for Armenian relief efforts, and became one of the earliest attempts to document genocide through cinema. Much of the film was eventually lost, and over the decades Aurora’s name faded. She lived until 1994. Her story remains a reminder that history is not always preserved by those who hold power. Sometimes it survives because one person refuses to let the truth disappear along with the people who tried to silence it.
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