Kati sends us this lovely card about her family in Ballinasloe; a lovely card with stories that must be shown as well.

It says: "My mom used to pause for ages before crossing beneath the arches to reach her home because, when the wind blew, the arches echoed the sound and it was like a high-pitched wailing. My mom was sure it was the Banshees that her gran was always warning her about.

Ten years previously, her father's courtship of her mother had required him to cycle three hours to the North, and back again, in his Sunday suit. One night he saw in the unlit path two huge flashing eyes. A moment later he'd gone flying over his handlebars. Turned out he'd cycled straight into a donkey. He'd ripped his suit and had to work overtime all next week to pay for a new jacket.

One summer, three generations of our family converged at Ballinasloe, on the green (pictured top left). We did lots of cartwheels and handstands and were very happy."

We'll have more of this, please! And perhaps a few very special maps as well.