My copy of The Economist usually arrives on the first day of the week. Yesterday was a Croatian holiday, though, and the post office was closed. I was thus surprised not to find the mighty newspaper in my mailbox this morning. At first I thought it would have to be in Motovun by tomorrow, but then I remembered the postal strike in Britain. It did not take me long to learn from a friend in Britain that it was still on. If I remember correctly, it started nearly a week ago. And so my copy of The Economist is stuck in some warehouse, which is bulging with mail by now. The very thought of those mountains of stranded mail make me crave my favorite read even more strongly than usually. As I imagine it under tons of envelopes, plastic bags, and boxes, its pages become ever more inviting. Ever more tempting. By and by, I am becoming convinced this particular issue of the mighty newspaper is the brightest and juiciest in a long, long time. The damned postal strike!