I recently received my first postcard for 10 years. Having been posted a fortnight earlier from Italy, the sender had, typically, arrived back before the card. Maybe it will take even longer after Brexit as it will have to be stopped at all European borders for checks.
I love sending postcards. Obviously they’re not as popular as before due to camera phones, instant messaging and the ridiculously high costs of postage stamps. But the thought of picking up some great pictures of where you are and having them already conveniently on a 6”x4” card for posting is brilliant.
Anyone who’s received a postcard from me, knows that there’s never enough card. Indeed, my “card to ink” ratio is seriously flawed. So sometimes I continue on a second card and hope they arrive at same time and the person doesn’t read them in the wrong order where I’ve strangely returned from and critiqued the show I was looking forward to going to see.
I don’t turn them into a serialisation of my entire holiday because that’s as dull as other people insisting that you look at their 204 holiday snaps on Facebook.
However, sadly, not everyone shares my enthusiasm for card writing. Some are obviously enjoying their holidays so much that they cannot be interested in the mundane and time-wasting activity of telling you what a great time they are actually having because that would interfere with their “great time.”
So, they write: “Arrived safely. Really hot. Food good. Beer cheap. Back soon. Ted and Irene.” What’s the point in that? What have they actually done? Is it worth the postage for the recipient to know that at least their friends are not likely to die of malnutrition in Spain (although they may get skin cancer) and they may have the relief of seeing them again?
Somewhere in between my detailed travel guide and a “really can’t be bothered” approach is the best postcard to receive and I forlornly hope that I receive many more within the next decade.