Brian’s favourite postcard shows a perfectly respectable seaside promenade. The message reads: “Weather good, cheese poor.” No explanation follows. It was sent to Brian by a friend who normally wrote at length. On the table in his fictional hospital room, Brian places it beside a grand mountain view with six paragraphs on bus connections. He prefers the cheese mystery. A postcard has limited space, he says, so every complaint must earn its place. He has been trying to imagine that disappointing sandwich for twenty years.