- Gender and Relationships
Wish You Were Here
Welcome to Wish You Were Here
Have you ever wondered why your friends and family members insist on sending you those bizarre postcards and those unbelievably ridiculous photos while they're on vacation?
Do you really think recipients give a sweet tweet about what a fabulous time you're having in some peculiar place you've never heard of let alone can pronounce, along with those famous last words..."wish you were here"?
Frankly, it's comforting to know that finally there's a special spot to park all those forgettable contributions to the treasury of run-on sentences and pointless but interestingly-charming images.
"X" Marks the Spot
Just to let you know that our group of raging grannies has arrived at some godforsaken place half way between Great Snoring and Frisby-on-the Wreake.
The weather is decidedly cold, wet, and grey which is great if we had packed a hot water bottle and a pair of galoshes which we didn't.
Wish you were here to take my mind off the fact that our tour bus is in the bog, our luggage is covered in mud, and the lorry driver doesn't speak a word of English or Pig-Latin for that matter.
Other than that, we're doing swimmingly well.
I'm Having A Ball
Hi Mum and Dad,
I'm having a ball watching paint dry and grass grow in a deserted corner of the O.K. Corral in Tombstone, Arizona.
There's one saving grace about this place, bartenders pass out a pair of rose-colored glasses along with a good stiff drink in the hope that you won't complain about the weather or ask where you can get a shot of yourself beside that rooting tooting, pistol-packing Deputy-Marshall Wyatt Earp.
Mum, I wish you were here to appreciate the only piece of nature left standing in this wild west town, the world's largest rosebush according to the folks at Guinness World Records.
Your son ...Marshall Melbury
PS I got a thorn in my finger trying to pick a frigging flower to send you on Valentine's!
The Picture Perfect Paramours
How thoughtful of you all to buy us a one-way ticket to our old hometown, Blumenort, Manitoba.
To tell you the truth, I had forgotten there were so many blessed barns, blue bonnets, and god-fearing good folk capable of driving those big black buggies like bats out of hell to attend our fortieth wedding anniversary celebration.
As you can see from the snapshot (taken by one of our extended family members, I believe cousin Ludlow Loewen an organ-grinder of some renown with a quaint hairstyle and said to have come from a curious clan of nomadic settlers), your father and I are having a whale of a time.
Wish you were here to meet all Bruno's relatives who can't dance, sing 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, or play the slot machines but still know how to throw a good party with lots of fizzy water and firecrackers.
Love from you know who...Bruno and Brunhilda
Look Ma...It's Me!
A Word or Two From Another Forgetable Place
I picked up this little gem at a flea market during my summer holiday to my former stomping grounds to enjoy some legendary landscapes like Borgles Bluff, Drunken Dick Shoals and Soup Rock in Old Sweat, Nova Scotia.
I think he bears a striking resemblance to me after pulling an all-nighter on the Pickle Lake Project don't you think? Wish you were here to help me figure out how to ship this wooden whatsit back to Tickle Harbour.
In the meantime, I'm now off to see two charming ladies: my old flame - Melissa, a timid taxidermist who lives in a rustic cottage she calls "Moonbeam" and my former high school biology teacher, Ms. Emily Whissendine, who now runs a quaint shelter for abandoned guinea pigs, gerbils, and hamsters in Oldmans Pocket, Ontario.
Adios amigo...your cube dwelling companion...Moose Mayberry