POSTCARD 1:
Dear Mary,
Having a grand time here in the Big Smoke. Pleanty of jobs going in the building trade. Mind you, I could be doing the same amount of shovellin' back in Newcastle, hey.
xx

POSTCARD 2:
How's it going Mary?
You should see the cut of the hussies in this place! Ye'd wear more going for a paddle in the Shimna! Not a flannel vest to be seen. Don't be getting any ideas.
xx

POSTCARD 3:
Ah Mary,
There was an oul parade on here yesterday - the king went by on a bus. It was worse than Kilkeel on the 12th. I let a gulder out of me, and yer man turned and waved. Very polite, these English.
xx

POSTCARD 4:
Mary!
I met Peter O'Loughlin the day! Y'know, Big Pete's eldest. His mother was a Trainor to her own name - lives out the Bryansford Road.
Anyway, he's in the P'lice now. Terrible homesick. I was just saying to him how much I miss oul the soda farls.
xx

POSTCARD 5:
Mary, me darlin',
I've seen enough. Them girls are grand til ye see them wi'out that muck on their faces. I'm on me way back home. I think I'll start south Down's first construction company. All that digging came in useful after all.
Lookin forward til seeing ye. We'll go for a walk up Slieve Donard when I get back.
xx