The Big Read: Letters that spell happiness

I see the Post Office is preparing for another strike, so I'm in a race against time. Somewhere out there, humming and fizzing in the real-world version of cyberspace, are my postcards from Réunion. I wrote them to various people throughout my stay on the island, at the breakfast table or under a frangipani tree or sitting on a hot stone bench outside the church of St Anne waiting for the light to soften, but I foolishly waited till the last day to post them, so now they're like homing pigeons...