My kitchen table industry

I spent part of yesterday resurrecting my cards which had been placed on a very slow back burner some time ago when Life and other things intervened.

It was most enjoyable sitting at the table in the kitchen with my feline helper and my mini guillotine, slicing away at photographs of my paintings, sticking them onto the cards then placing them between books to well and truly stick and flatten them.
Then bagging them up with their envelopes.

My little helper

 A nice shop down in town that sells local produce has agreed to take a pilot selection and I have other outlets in mind.

The trouble is the perplexity with which many (though not all) Spanish people greet the basic idea of a card. Any card. It is still a surprisingly alien concept compared with the UK. The girl on the counter at the shop sounded almost suspicious, as if I were proferring a clutch of hand grenades. "What are they? ... Are they like ... postcards?"

I fear cards, though slowly making inroads, still have a long way to go here before reaching the saturation point long passed in England.