Bon voyage and forget to write
By Sheryl-Lee Kerr
I think I am now wising up to the true concept behind postcards. They
are mankind’s way of being exceptionally smug. In fact, they are
specifically designed for people to rub it in that they’re where we
most want to be. In essence, they exist purely to make everyone else
feel lousy:
“Hi there, just stopping by the Tower of London, moving on to
Buckingham Palace, just the usual. The weather has been just
perfect. Oh, by the way, hope it’s stopped raining there in Adelaide. Ha ha.
Bye, Michelle.”
Or: “Hey guys, you’ll never guess what happened. We’re walking down
Broadway and who walked out in front but Liam Neeson. Then we saw
Christie Brinkley and she’s even more stunning in real life and I
just walked straight up to her and said ‘Gidday, Christie, you’re even
more stunning in real life’ and she said ‘Hey, moron, you’re standing on
my foot’ - oh wowww. Siobhan, meanwhile, had managed to corner Liam
(her karate training is really paying off nowadays) and I think she got
his autograph after she took him down. Anyway we’re having sooo much
fun. Wish you were here. NOT! Cheers, Frank.”
Now see, friends like this we do not need. I am pretty darned close
to making a new clause in my existing standard friendship contract that
prohibits the sending of any postcards to my personage that will
make me jealous.
Just once, I’d like to get the postcard specifically written in mind
for those sad souls back home, watching the rain through their grey
office windows and wondering when the rubber chicken of doom
will leave them.
Now here’s the postcard a real mate friend would send us:
“Hi everyone, I’d just like to say my Hawaiian holiday is going
great and my tan is fantastic. I’d like to say that but I haven’t really
been able to say much at all since that rather large Texan beer
baron fell on me mid-flight.
“An ugly nurse with no neck is, ow, fjkfriulh... I mean, a svelte
nurse who is a kind and gentle soul is helping me write this and is
confident that once I’m back on solid foods I’ll be able to see some
sights. I hear the view from the hospital gardens is quite good, too
- well, what’s left of it since the typhoon hit. You might have heard
about it on the news - it followed the earthquake that demolished
the hotel I was supposed to be staying in. The hotel that had all my
luggage.
“Fortunately, my passport wasn’t in my bags - actually, pickpockets
got that at the airport when they were loading me into the ambulance
(which had an accident on the way to hospital, damndest luck - but
we only rolled three times and they got that fire out real quick).
“All in all it’s quite nice, but I wish you were here. No, I really
do. An office whip-around would be great right about now. Yours,
Pete.”
Naturally the contents of this postcard wouldn’t have to be strictly
accurate. But its sender - ah, now that’s a true friend.
© Sheryl-Lee Kerr & The Advertiser, 26 MAY 1998