Strolling along the waterfront in San Marco I passed a small restaurant with tables outside. It was lunchtime and it was busy so there were plenty of people involved in the usual activities; eating, drinking, chatting, people watching, chastising children, you know the sort of thing.
Sitting at the corner of a table with a large family, a man was engaged in something entirely different.
Something that I’ve done myself many times, but not for quite a while.
He was writing a postcard.
Now it used to be the case that immediately after you arrived on holiday you would rush out to buy a selection of cards and stamps to tell friends and families that you’d arrived safely and were having a wonderful time (usually before you’d had a chance of the latter because you needed to get them posted soon enough to beat you home!).
I know my personal circumstances have changed and I don’t have an insistent spouse to motivate me to write, but it no longer occurs to me to either write or expect them. Another victim of texts and Facebook?