Philobiblon

You walk into a tabac in Paris – a bit off the beaten tourist track near the University of Paris – and ask for four stamps for postcards to Australia in adequate if it-won’t-make-anyone-think-you’re-a-local French. The woman behind the counter digs in the register, then announces that she’s run out of those, but if you leave them with her she’ll post them when the stamp comes in.

What do you do?

Well, I’ll find out if the postcards arrive.