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.
Everyday I thought about postcards.
My holidays passed quickly, but I did not send 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!