Postcards always spoil my holidays. Last summer, I went to Italy. I visited museums and sat in public gardens. A friendly waiter taught me a few words of Italian. Then he lent me a book. I read a few lines, but I did not understad a word. Every day I thought about postcards. My holidays passed quickly, but I did not send any cards to my friends. On the lasy day I made s big decision. I got up early and bought thirty-seven cards. I spent the whole day in my room, but I did not write a single card!
Taken from:Practice and Progress By L. G. Alexander
Friday, 12 September 2008
Please Send Me a Card
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