Sydney Morning Herald today - "A postcard sent from southern Sweden in 1982 arrived at its destination in the centre of the country last month, more than 21 years later, a Swedish newspaper reported. But the intended recipients of the correspondence died years ago, and their daughter - who sent them the postcard 21 years ago - received the delivery in her mailbox on December 19. The newspaper calculated that the postcard took 7,814 days to travel 830km, averaging a speed of 9m per day. The postage stamp - which cost 1.65 kronor compared to today's 5.50 kronor ($A1) - featured a young King Carl Gustaf XVI. The monarch is now a greying 57-year-old. "

I love these stories. My mate Norman tells me that his grandmother got a Christmas card in 1989 that had been sent by one of her children in the early 70s.

This was a famous one - a bloke called Colin Wardrop sent a postcard to his sister in Aberdeen, Scotland from Queensland in 1889 - it finally got delivered in 2001 - it had been AWOL for 112 years. Best of all, the BBC blamed Australia Post for it! Hah! How do we know it wasn't stuck under a desk in a mail sorting centre in Slough for 111 years? Hey? Hey? Answer me that one you smug pommy bastard.

What had these letters been doing? What exciting and wonderful things had they seen? Had they been getting into adventures and solving peoples problems like The Littlest Hobo? Or had they just fallen behind the back of a cupboard and hid there until the the furniture got rearranged and Postman Pat said, "shit, Jess, we better get this bugger out and let us never speak of it again?"

If you know of any more stories about wayward correspondence imitating the prodigal son send me some links.