Wonder if I'll ever send postcards again?

They were marvelous things weren't they, postcards? You could sit on the deck of the Mauritania headed for London from New York, like my dad used to in the 50's, and scribble whatever was on your mind-which was probably elegant cocktails with pagan-headed swizzle sticks, while you puffed away on a cigarette from an azure tin of BOAC/VC10 promo specials and flicked silken ash to the deck (the wind always took care of it). They say travel used to be something of a glamorous adventure, you talked about it in glowing terms for years to come-Oh well...