Postcards always spoils my holidays. Last summer, I went to Italy, I visited museums and sat in public gardens. A friendly waitor taught me a few words of Italian. Then she lent me a book, I read a few lines, but I did not understand a word. Everyday I thought about postcards. The 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.