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 understand a word.
Every day I thought about postcards.
My holidays passed quickly, but I did not send any cards to my friends.
On the last day I made a 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