Confession Time

8.15 p.m. My Flat, Brockley, South East London.

So, I must come clean and finally put this out in the open. I have for the last few years kept a secret that only a few people closest to me know of. I have an overwhelming addiction to buying and collecting postcards. That's it, I've finally said it. What you see above is just a small sample of this wretched addiction. If I had the time the whole flat would be covered in the things.

Some people at the ned of a stressful day at work find themselves heading straight to the nearest pub. For me it's more likely you'll find me purposefully striding down Charing Cross Road, possibly stopping off at a select few secondhand bookshops or more often than not heading the National Gallery and portrait Gallery to rifle through their postcards ranges. It has even been known for me to even look through the tourist tat newsagents and the range of Princess Di novelty face postcards to find something different.

I am glad that my addiction is finally public. If anyone would care to guess what each card is in the above photograph, I'll send you one of prized possessions. Don't worry it's not a Princess Di one.