Puzzlify notes

A thank-you for your gasworks museum volunteers: a photo of the old retort house, a gasholder frame or a row of gas lamps as a jigsaw, with your note at the end

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Written by the team behind Puzzlify. Puzzlify is our product, so weigh what follows with that in mind. We've tried to make this useful even if you never use it. We're not affiliated with any gasworks, gas museum, gas company, gas network, gas supplier, energy company, gasholder, lighting museum, industrial museum, open-air museum, record office, archive, council, heritage body, heritage funder, sponsor, school or community organisation. Nothing here is legal, historical, archive, data protection, building, conservation, object handling, gas safety, gas appliance, carbon monoxide, contamination, coal tar, ground conditions, structures, heights, machinery, engine, fire, first aid, health and safety, safeguarding, bereavement, copyright, photography permission or employment advice; check your own group's guidance on gifts, photos, the building, the retorts, the gasholder, the collection, children and people's details.

It's a quarter past four on a damp Sunday at the end of October, and a retired gas fitter called Ron is standing in a small brick room full of lamps. There are gas lamps on brackets along the walls, gas lamps on pedestals, a street lamp on its iron column in the corner, and a long glass case of gas mantles, burners and little brass taps. The light outside is already going, so Ron reaches up with a long pole, turns a tap on the street lamp, and the mantle inside flickers and then glows a soft, greenish white. A group of visitors who have been chatting in the doorway goes quiet. "That," says Ron, "is what your street looked like when your great-grandmother walked home from work."

The gasworks stopped making gas a long time ago, when the town went over to natural gas. Most of it was knocked down, but a small corner survived: the retort house with its row of iron doors, the purifier shed, the meter house with its great drum meter and its clock-like dials, the governor house, the manager's office and, standing over all of it, the tall iron frame of an old gasholder, empty now, like a ribcage against the sky. A small trust looks after what's left, and on open days a handful of volunteers explain how coal was turned into town gas: the shovelling into the retorts, the roasting, the tar and the ammonia, the cooling and scrubbing and purifying, the measuring in the meter house, the storing in the holder that rose and fell with the day, and the pipes that ran under every street to the lamps and the cookers and the gas fires. At the front there's a small museum: gas cookers from a century of kitchens, slot meters that took a penny or a shilling, gas irons, gas fires, a gas-powered fridge, lamplighters' poles, fitters' tool bags, showroom posters, and a wall of photographs of men in caps and shirtsleeves standing beside the retorts, each one holding a long iron rake.

On the same morning, in the same buildings, other volunteers are getting ready too. One is polishing the brass on the station meter. One is setting out a table of coal, coke, a jar of tar and a little bottle of the purifier's oxide for a school group, behind glass, with a sign explaining what each one is. One is in the archive room, cataloguing a box of ledgers, meter-reading books and letters from the old gas company that someone found in a cupboard in the manager's office. One is in the shop, sorting postcards of the gasholder and little tins of old gas-company badges. And one, a former retort-house stoker in his nineties, is sitting by the stove in the meter house with his daughter, ready to tell anyone who asks what it was like to draw a retort on a winter night.

If you've been on a tour, taken a school group, watched the lamps being lit, bought a postcard of the gasholder, found a great-grandparent's name in the gas company's wage books, or simply live with one of these people, this guide is for you. It's about how to say thank you in a way that feels personal and appropriate, with words first and an optional gift second. One idea is a private digital jigsaw made from a photo of the old retort house, the gasholder frame against the sky, a row of gas lamps or the big station meter, with your note revealed when the last piece goes in. But there are plenty of other good ideas, and we've listed those too.

Who we mean

By gasworks and gas museum volunteers we mean anyone who gives their time to keep the history of the gas industry alive, including:

  • welcome, front-desk and shop volunteers, who greet visitors, take the donations and sell the postcards and guidebooks;
  • guides and stewards, who show visitors round the retort house, the purifiers, the meter house and the gasholder, and explain how coal became gas;
  • lamp and lighting volunteers, who look after the gas lamps, the street lamps, the mantles and the lighting demonstrations;
  • appliance volunteers, who look after the cookers, fires, irons, meters and fridges from a century of homes and shops;
  • engine and machinery volunteers, who look after the exhausters, the engines, the pumps, the station meter and the governors;
  • collections and conservation volunteers, who look after the objects, the posters, the tools and the photographs;
  • archive, research and family history volunteers, who catalogue the ledgers, wage books, plans and letters and help families trace ancestors who worked for the gas company;
  • oral history volunteers, who record the memories of former gasworkers, fitters, showroom staff, meter readers and lamplighters;
  • building and maintenance volunteers, who look after the brickwork, the roofs, the chimneys, the ironwork and the site;
  • education volunteers, who run school days, science sessions and talks for local groups;
  • events and open-day volunteers, who keep everything running on the busiest days;
  • treasurers, secretaries, trustees and the founders who started it all.

Some gas museums are a whole surviving small-town gasworks, kept just as it was on the day it closed. Some are a collection of gas appliances and lamps in a museum of everyday life or an industrial museum. Some are a single gasholder frame that a local group has fought to save, with a noticeboard and a lot of photographs. And some are a heritage group with a few cookers, a slot meter, a lamplighter's pole and a lot of determination. Almost all of them rely on volunteers.

Words first

The most important part of any thank-you is what you say. Gasworks volunteers often work out of sight. Visitors see a friendly guide at the retorts for an hour, or the magic of a lamp lighting up at dusk, but they rarely see the volunteer who spent the winter chipping rust off the gasholder guide frame, or the one who indexed every wage book from 1880 to 1960, or the treasurer who found the money to stop the retort house roof from falling in. So be specific:

  • name the job: "every Sunday in the meter house since 2013", "the hours you spent sorting the gas company ledgers", "the science day you ran for my son's class", "the street lamp you brought back to life";
  • name a moment: the evening my daughter saw her first gas lamp lit and gasped, the day you found my grandfather's name in the stokers' wage book, the open day when an old fitter stood by the cookers and told everyone how he'd converted every kitchen in the street to natural gas;
  • name what it meant: the first time I understood what my grandmother meant by "the smell of the gasworks", the way you made chemistry and history make sense at the same time, the feeling that the men in those photographs were real people with real lives;
  • name the years: "fourteen years of explaining that the gasholder didn't explode, it just went up and down" means more than "thank you for all you do".

If you're thanking a whole group, try to name the people who never get named. The treasurer, the person who keeps the collection records, the volunteer who answers emails from family historians, the one who sweeps out the retort house and the one who climbs up to clear the gutters on the meter house. They're the ones who keep a gasworks standing.

A sentence like "you saved a piece of the town's history" can sound like a big claim, but at many volunteer-run gasworks it's simply true. Almost every town once had a gasworks, and almost all of them have gone, often without a single photograph of the inside. If the person you're thanking helped to keep one of the last ones, say it.

Who it suits

A photo jigsaw with a note works best for someone who:

  • enjoys a small puzzle on a phone or tablet, which, for someone who knows every pipe, valve and dial in the meter house, may feel very natural;
  • has a strong feeling for a particular gasworks, a gasholder, a street or a town;
  • is stepping down as a guide, retiring from the engine team or celebrating a long-service milestone;
  • has finished a long project, such as a restored street lamp, a repainted gasholder frame, a working station meter or a catalogue of every cooker in the collection, and would love to see it in a new way;
  • has moved away and misses the works and the people;
  • has a partner or family who'd like to say thank you for all the time they gave.

It's less suitable for someone who doesn't use a phone or a computer at all, in which case a handwritten card may be better, or someone who would feel uncomfortable being singled out. For them, a quiet word in the meter house after the last visitor has gone may be best.

The retorts, the holder and the people come first

A few practical rules before you send anything:

  • A volunteer shift is working time. When volunteers are guiding a tour, lighting the lamps, running an engine or helping someone with the records, they're concentrating on safety and on the people in front of them. Never interrupt, even with a thank-you. Wait until the tour has finished, or leave a card at the front desk.
  • Gas is not a toy. Where a museum lights real gas lamps or runs a gas appliance, that's done by trained, competent volunteers under the museum's own safety arrangements. Never turn a tap, open a valve, touch a lamp or ask someone to light something "just for a photo", and if you ever smell gas, tell a volunteer straight away and do as they say.
  • Old works, old residues. Old gasworks produced coal tar, ammonia, spent oxide and other by-products, and some old ground, pits, pipes and buildings may carry residues that need care. That's why some areas are closed and some objects are behind glass. Follow every sign, stay on the visitor route, don't touch anything you're not invited to, don't let children dig or pick things up from the ground, and wash your hands after a hands-on session.
  • Structures and heights. Gasholder frames, retort benches, purifier tops, ladders, walkways and old chimneys are tall, old and often fenced off for good reason. Never climb a ladder, a frame or a fence for a better photo, and never fly a drone over the site unless the trust has arranged it.
  • Pits, tanks and covers. Old gasholder tanks, tar wells, valve pits and inspection covers can be deep, wet or hidden. Stay behind barriers, never step on a cover or a board, and keep children close and well back from any edge.
  • Machinery is not a toy. Engines, exhausters, pumps, belts and flywheels can catch fingers, hair, scarves and loose sleeves in a moment, even when they're turning slowly. Only the trained volunteers run them. Keep children, bags, scarves and long hair well back, and never touch anything moving.
  • Fire and flames. Old timber, oily rags, paper archives and posters burn very quickly. Follow every no-smoking, no-candles and no-naked-flames rule, even in a room full of lamps.
  • The collection belongs to the museum. Cookers, meters, lamps, mantles, irons, posters and tools are part of a collection, even when they look like an old cooker from someone's kitchen. Don't open an oven door, don't put a coin in a slot meter, don't touch a mantle (they crumble), and don't ask anyone to take something out of a case for a photo.
  • Donations and valuations. If you have an old gas cooker, a family lamplighter's pole or a box of gas-company papers, offer it to the museum through its own channels rather than handing it to a volunteer, and don't ask a volunteer what it's worth. That's not their job, and most museums don't give valuations.
  • Records name real people. Wage books, accident books, meter-reading books, customer ledgers and letters carry names, wages, injuries, addresses and debts, and sometimes very sad stories. Access is decided by the archive, not by the volunteer who happens to be on duty. Don't photograph pages without permission, and never share a page that names someone.
  • Museum money. Don't send cash, vouchers or anything that looks like payment to an individual volunteer. If you'd like to give money, give it to the trust, the society or the museum, through their own channels, or buy something from the shop.
  • Children. Many gas museums welcome families and schools, and children love to watch a lamp light up or see how a penny meter worked. Let the volunteers decide what children can touch, and never photograph a child at the museum unless their parent and the site have clearly agreed.
  • The rota, the bookings and people's details. The volunteer rota, school bookings, research requests, the membership list and anything with names, addresses or phone numbers are private. Don't photograph them, don't share them, and don't put them in a puzzle.

When to send it

The gas museum year has its own rhythm, often tied to the visitor season and to the long evenings when gas lamps look their best. Some good moments:

  • at the end of the summer season, when the busiest months of tours and open days are over and the volunteers finally have time to breathe;
  • after a heritage open day, a lamp-lighting evening or a big anniversary, when everyone is tired and pleased and the meter house has finally been swept;
  • at the end of October, when the clocks go back on Sunday 25 October in the UK and much of Europe, the evenings draw in and the gas lamps come into their own. The first dark evening, when the lamps are lit before tea-time, is a lovely moment for a thank-you that arrives on a phone;
  • at half-term, when many gas museums run family days, lamp-lighting sessions and science activities, and volunteers who've given up their own holidays deserve a word;
  • after a restoration milestone, such as a newly repainted gasholder frame, a street lamp lit again, a restored engine turning over or a re-roofed retort house;
  • before Christmas, when some museums hold lamp-lit evenings or winter open days, and a long year is nearly over;
  • when someone steps down or reaches a long-service milestone, which is the most important moment of all.

If you're not sure, send it after the visit or the event you're thanking them for, while the memory is still fresh.

Why a jigsaw can fit

There's something about a gasworks that suits a jigsaw. It's all lattices, rows and dials: the criss-cross iron of the gasholder frame, the row of retort doors, the rivets on a purifier, the little clock faces on the station meter, the bricks, the pipes, the valves and the lamps in a line. A photo of one of those patterns makes a satisfying puzzle, because every piece has a little detail, and the person solving it will recognise every one.

A jigsaw also has the same quiet magic as a gas lamp being lit. For a moment you're fiddling with small pieces in the half-dark, and then suddenly everything comes together and the picture glows. In a Puzzlify jigsaw, that moment is your note appearing at the end. It's a small surprise, but a personal one.

For the welcome, front-desk and shop volunteers

The welcome volunteers are the first people every visitor meets, and often the last. They answer the same question ("Was it dangerous?") with the same patience all day, they keep the donations box safe, and they sell the postcards that help to pay for the roof. A photo of the front door of the meter house with the lamp above it lit, or of the shop shelf of postcards and badges, suits them. "You made us feel welcome before we'd even taken our coats off" is a good start.

For the guides and stewards

Guides are the people visitors remember: the one who explained how a gasholder rose and fell with the day like a giant breathing; the one who let a child hold a lump of coke and a lump of coal and guess which was which; the one who told the story of the stokers drawing the retorts on a winter night and made it sound like yesterday. A photo of the row of retort doors, or of the gasholder frame from the gate, suits them well. "You made an old gasworks the most interesting place my children have ever been" is a good start.

For the lamp and lighting volunteers

There's something special about the volunteers who look after the lamps. They know every kind of burner and mantle, they can tell you when your street went from gas to electric light, and on a dark evening they make the whole museum glow. If a volunteer has kept the lamps lit, tell them what it meant to see it. A photo of a lit street lamp against a deep blue evening sky, or a row of lit wall lamps in the museum, is one of the loveliest images in any gas museum, and it makes a beautiful puzzle.

For the appliance volunteers

The appliance volunteers look after the history that most visitors connect with first: the cooker their grandmother had, the slot meter that always ran out on Sunday, the gas fire they sat by as a child, the gas iron that nobody misses. They often know more about kitchen history than anyone in town. A photo of a row of cookers from different decades, or of a beautiful old enamelled gas fire, suits them. "You found the exact cooker my nan had, and my mum cried" is the kind of line that means everything.

For the engine and machinery volunteers

Engine and machinery volunteers spend hours on their knees beside exhausters, pumps, governors and the big station meter, covered in oil, and then step back so that everyone else can watch the flywheel turn or the meter dials move. They rarely get thanked for the hours, only for the moment. A photo of the station meter with its brass polished, or of an engine at rest, cleaned and painted, suits them. Mention the work: "Thank you for the winter you spent on the exhauster. Hearing it run again was worth every hour."

For the collections and conservation volunteers

Collections volunteers do some of the quietest work in the museum: cleaning cookers, labelling burners, wrapping mantles that crumble at a touch, conserving enamel and brass, and keeping damp and rust at bay in buildings that were never designed to hold a collection. A photo of the glass case of mantles and burners, or a shelf of brass taps and meters, suits them. If they helped you identify something from your own family's kitchen, say what they found.

For the archive, research and family history volunteers

Archive volunteers catalogue the ledgers, plans, wage books, meter-reading books and letters of the old gas company, often in old handwriting and often in gloves. They make it possible for a family to find a grandparent, for a historian to understand how a town grew, and for an exhibition to tell the truth. If a volunteer helped you find a relative who worked as a stoker, a fitter, a meter reader, a lamplighter, a clerk or a showroom assistant, tell them exactly what it meant. A photo of the archive room with its boxes neatly labelled, or the old manager's desk, suits them.

For the oral history volunteers

The volunteers who sit down with former gasworkers, fitters and showroom staff to record their memories are doing something precious. The last people who worked in the old coal-gas works, and the fitters who converted every home to natural gas, are now old, and once they're gone, their stories go with them. If a volunteer recorded your parent's memories, tell them what it meant to hear their voice again. A photo of the place your relative worked, or of the old photograph of the workforce that helped you find them (with permission, if it belongs to the collection), suits them.

For the building and maintenance volunteers

The building volunteers keep the whole place standing, and a gasworks is a lot of building: brick sheds, iron roofs, tall chimneys, purifier boxes, valves, pipes and, above all, the gasholder frame, which needs painting, and painting, and painting. A photo of the gasholder frame freshly painted against a clear sky, or the retort house at the end of the day with the light low across the brick, suits them. "Thank you for every coat of paint and every Saturday" says a lot.

For the education volunteers

Education volunteers turn a gasworks into a science lesson, a history lesson and a lesson in how a town worked. How do you get gas out of coal? What's left behind? Why did a gasholder go up and down? What did the town smell like, and who did the work? Why did the town change to natural gas, and where does our energy come from now? If they ran a school day for your child's class, a note from the class (with the school's agreement) means a great deal, and a photo of the table of coal, coke and tar in their jars, with no children in it, suits them.

For the trustees and the founders

The trustees and the founders are often the people who saved the buildings in the first place: who formed a trust when the last corner of the gasworks was going to be cleared for housing, raised the money for the roof, persuaded the gas company to hand over its ledgers and its cookers, and spent years in meetings so that everyone else could spend Sundays in the meter house. If the museum exists because of them, say so. A photo of the works as it is now, or a carefully chosen then-and-now pair, suits them.

If you live with a gas museum volunteer

Partners and families give up a lot: the Sundays, the lamp-lit evenings, the brass polish on everything, the old meter on the kitchen table, the holidays planned around industrial heritage weekends, and the evenings spent learning the difference between town gas and natural gas. A jigsaw from you can say something they might not hear from anyone else: "Thank you for all the time you give. I know what that old gasworks means to you, and I'm proud of you." A photo of the works from your favourite approach, or of the lamp they restored, suits this.

When a long-serving volunteer steps down

When someone leaves after many years, the trust often gives them a card, a framed photograph or something small and fitting, such as an old gas-company badge, or a print of an old photograph of the works. A jigsaw from the group can sit alongside that. Pick a photo that sums up their years: the meter they polished, the lamps they lit, the engine they mended, the archive room they made their own. Ask everyone to add a line to the note, or keep it short and let the card carry the longer messages.

In memory of a volunteer

Some heritage sites name a bench, a lamp or a display in memory of a volunteer who has died, and some former gasworkers will have been part of the works' story for most of their lives. If a volunteer has died, a jigsaw can be a gentle way for their family or the group to remember them, but only with the family's agreement. Choose a photo they loved, avoid anything that might upset, leave the leaderboard off, and keep the note simple: "In memory of Ron, who lit the lamps here every Sunday for twenty years and made every visitor feel welcome."

For gasworks and gas museum volunteers elsewhere

What we've written applies in many places where the history of the gas industry is cared for by volunteers:

  • in England, where a few small-town gasworks, gasholder frames and gas appliance collections survive, and where trusts, museums and volunteers keep them open;
  • in Scotland, where a small burgh gasworks has been preserved as a museum and heritage groups remember the works that once stood in every town;
  • in Wales, where industrial museums and local groups remember the gasworks that served mining and market towns;
  • in Ireland and Northern Ireland, where a restored town gasworks tells the story of coal gas, and historical societies remember the works in other towns;
  • in the United States, where historical societies and industrial museums remember the manufactured gas plants, the gas streetlights and the gasholders that once stood in so many cities;
  • in Canada, where heritage villages and local museums keep gas lamps, appliances and the story of the old gas companies;
  • in Australia and New Zealand, where old gasworks buildings have been saved as museums, parks and arts centres, and volunteers keep their story alive;
  • across Europe, where gasworks museums, gasholder conversions, gas lamp societies and industrial heritage routes keep the history of town gas open to the public.

The rules about gifts, photos, children, gas, old sites and safety vary from place to place. Check your own group's guidance, and keep the thank-you personal and modest.

The best photos for a gasworks thank-you are often the simple ones, taken during a quiet moment, with permission. Some ideas:

  • the gasholder frame against a clear or sunset sky, from the gate or the visitor route;
  • the row of retort doors in the retort house, with the light from a window along them;
  • a lit street lamp against a deep blue evening sky;
  • a row of lit wall lamps, or a glass case of mantles and burners;
  • the station meter with its brass and dials polished;
  • a row of old gas cookers from different decades;
  • the purifier boxes, the valves and the pipes, with their rivets and paint;
  • the chimney and the brick sheds in low evening light.

Things never to photograph, or to keep out of the frame:

  • visiting children and school groups, at any time, unless their school, their parents and the site have clearly agreed;
  • volunteers lighting lamps, running engines or helping at the research table, unless they've clearly agreed, and never in a way that distracts them or needs a flash;
  • anything from a position you weren't invited to stand in: on a ladder, on a frame or walkway, beyond a barrier, on a cover or next to moving machinery;
  • legible pages of wage books, accident books, customer ledgers or any document that names real people;
  • keys, key safes, door codes, alarms, CCTV, gas valves and controls, and any security features;
  • the volunteer rota, bookings, research requests and any page with names, addresses or signatures;
  • neighbouring houses, and any part of a former gasworks site that is now somebody's home, including its windows and gardens.

If the photo has people in it, ask them first. A photo with no people at all, just the holder, the lamps, the meter or the building, is often the easiest and best choice.

Getting the JPG right

Puzzlify works from a JPG. Most phone photos are already JPGs, or can be saved as one. A few practical tips:

  • switch the flash off inside: it bounces off brass and enamel, kills the glow of a lit lamp and startles the people working;
  • for a lit gas lamp at dusk, take the photo just after sunset, when the sky is still deep blue rather than black, and tap on the lamp so it doesn't burn out to plain white;
  • hold the phone very still, or rest it on a wall or a railing, because low light needs a slower shot;
  • a gasholder frame looks best from far enough back to fit the whole ring, with the phone held level so the columns stay upright;
  • the row of retort doors is a lovely shot from one end, with the doors leading the eye into the picture;
  • for close-ups of meters and brass, get near, fill the frame with the dials, and turn slightly so your own reflection isn't in the glass;
  • landscape images usually make the most comfortable puzzles on a phone turned sideways;
  • lattices, rivets, dials, brick and rows of lamps make wonderful puzzles, because every piece has a little detail;
  • plain sky, dark corners and large areas of black-painted iron are tricky, so crop them or pick fewer pieces;
  • if your phone saves photos in another format, such as HEIC, change the camera setting to "most compatible" or export a copy as JPG;
  • remove location data from the photo before you upload it, especially if it was taken near someone's home. On most phones, you can switch it off in the share options or the camera settings.

Privacy and an optional PIN

The puzzle is private: it's shared as a link, not posted on a public board. You can add an optional PIN so that only someone who knows it can open the puzzle, which is useful if you're sending it to the trust's volunteer email list. Even so, treat the photo as if it might be forwarded, and keep children, people who are working, visitors, records, security features and anyone's details out of it. Puzzlify doesn't use your photos to train AI or share them with third parties.

Say it's from you

Heritage trusts and their volunteers get a lot of unexpected messages, from fake invoices to "your energy account" scams, and gas museum volunteers, of all people, will have seen plenty of fake "gas bill" emails. They're rightly wary of unexpected links. Say who it's from and what it is in the message itself: "This is a little jigsaw of the street lamp you lit for us at half-term, with a note at the end. It's from me, and it's safe to open." For someone who doesn't use email much, print the link as a QR code inside a card, and hand it over in person after the last tour has finished.

Piece counts

Pieces Photo idea Best for
24 a single lit gas mantle, close up a quick solve, or a first puzzle
48 a street lamp lit against a blue evening sky one clear subject, a relaxed solve
80 the station meter with its dials and brass a busier image with lots of detail
130 a row of old gas cookers from different decades a detailed photo for a keen puzzler
252 the whole gasholder frame against the sky, with the sheds below a long, slow solve for a long-serving volunteer
48 or 80 the shop shelf of postcards and badges a cheerful thank-you for the front-desk and shop team

If you're not sure, 48 or 80 pieces suits most people on a phone. Plain sky, dark corners and large areas of black-painted iron get tricky at high piece counts, so start lower if the image has large areas of one colour.

How to send it

Upload the photo, pick a piece count, write your note and preview it. When you're happy, publish the link and send it by email or message, print the link or a QR code inside a card, or ask the volunteer coordinator or the trust secretary to pass it on. Start at Puzzlify's photo puzzle maker.

If you're sending one puzzle to a whole team of guides or the engine group, the optional leaderboard lets everyone see who finished first, which a room full of people who can read a meter dial at a glance may take very seriously. Some groups enjoy the rivalry; others would rather solve it quietly. For a puzzle sent to one person, for anything connected with someone's family history, or after a bereavement, leave it off.

Note examples

  • "To Ron: twenty years of lighting the lamps, and every visitor went home knowing what their street once looked like. Thank you."
  • "To the education team: thank you for the best school trip my class has had. They're still talking about the coke and the coal."
  • "To the engine volunteers: thank you for the winter on the exhauster. Hearing it run again was worth the wait."
  • "To Sheila: thank you for finding my great-grandfather in the stokers' wage book. We finally know where he worked."
  • "To the painting team: the gasholder looks wonderful. Thank you for every coat and every Saturday."
  • "To the trustees: thank you for saving the last of the old gasworks when everyone else wanted it gone."
  • "To my husband: thank you for the Sundays, the brass polish on the stairs and the only working penny meter in our street."

(Change the names, and keep anything personal or identifying out of a puzzle that may be shared.)

Honest pricing

Making and previewing a puzzle is free in your browser. You only pay when you publish the link to send it: one credit is EUR 3.99, three credits are EUR 8.99, and Plus is EUR 14.99 a year for ten credits, which can make sense if you want to thank the guides, the lamp volunteers and the archive group separately. The person you send it to doesn't need an account or an app; they just open the link in a browser.

This is a digital jigsaw you play on a screen. It isn't a cardboard puzzle in the post, a printed product, a framed picture, a teaching resource, a raffle prize or a public puzzle board, and it isn't connected to any gasworks, gas museum, gas company, energy supplier or heritage body. It's also not puzzlify.io (a chess site), Puzzlit, Puzzly or Puzzify, which are different things.

Ideas that are not a puzzle

A jigsaw is only one way to say thank you, and often not the most important one. Other ideas that gas museum volunteers tend to love:

  • a handwritten card, left at the front desk or posted to the trust, saying exactly what their work meant to you;
  • a letter or drawings from a class after a school visit, if their school is happy to send them;
  • a thank-you in the trust's newsletter, the local paper or the community magazine, naming the engine team, the painters, the archivists, the appliance and lamp volunteers and the treasurer as well as the guides;
  • nominating a volunteer or the trust for a local volunteering or heritage award, if your area has one;
  • joining the trust or the society, paying the membership, or sponsoring the conservation of an object, a lamp or a stretch of the roof;
  • buying postcards or a guidebook from the shop, and sending one to someone who remembers the works;
  • writing a kind review, so that more families find their way to the old gasworks;
  • sharing old photographs, documents or stories about family members who worked for the gas company, if you have them and they'd be welcome;
  • sitting down with the oral history volunteer to record your own memories, if you or someone in your family worked there;
  • offering your time: a shift on the front desk, help on an open day or a hand in the archive, once you've joined properly and done any training and checks the group needs;
  • a tin of good biscuits or a cake for the volunteers' room, handed over when the last visitor has gone, which never fails.

If a photo puzzle feels right as well, choose the holder, the lamps, the meter, the retorts or the building, take it during a quiet moment with permission, keep children, people who are working, visitors, records, security features and anyone's details out of the frame, pick a piece count that suits them, and write the note in your own words. You can make a free preview here and decide later whether to send it.

Whatever you send, the most important part is the sentence that sounds like you, written to the person who reaches up with a long pole on a dark October afternoon and answers the same question about whether it was dangerous with the same patience every time, who keeps an old gasworks alive so that the stokers, fitters, meter readers, lamplighters and showroom girls who worked there, and the town that grew up under its light, are remembered, so that next winter, when a child watches a gas lamp flicker into life for the first time and goes quiet, someone is there to smile and tell them how it was done, one lamp, one street, one piece at a time.

Written by the small team behind Puzzlify (info@puzzlify.app). Not legal, historical, archive, data protection, building, conservation, object handling, gas safety, gas appliance, carbon monoxide, contamination, coal tar, ground conditions, structures, heights, machinery, engine, fire, first aid, health and safety, safeguarding, bereavement, copyright, photography permission or employment advice. Check your own group's guidance on gifts, photos, the building, the retorts, the gasholder, the collection, children and people's details.