Valentines Day

Ah, the romance of Valentines Day. A day allegedly in remembrance of a 2nd century martyr who was tortured and beheaded for beliefs that a later church eventually declared partly heretical. And in 1969, the Roman Catholic Church ceased venerating Valentine as it was believed he was not actually a real person after all.

Valentines Day; the festival invented, or at least placed, to distract from , a roman fertility festival, which fell the day after it. A time of love; a time of pink hearts, over-priced flowers, crappy cards and boxes of chocolates (“I love you darling! Now eat these, so we can plump you up nicely…”); A time of crass commercialism and sappiness.

But hey, if it makes a few thousand people happy, who’s to care?

Last year, Penny insisted that we mark Valentines Day. Those who know Penny will suspect by now that this was not going to be a usual request. No, indeed, there were no cards, flowers or chocolate; But there was a tent, pitched indoors in her room and a splendid banquet of a picnic inside.

This year things are somewhat more traditional. While we’re still declaring the cards etc to be pointless wastes of money we’re going to have a restaurant meal this evening. Sadly our quest to find a restaurant that banned all couples apart from us was doomed, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.
And there’s the gift. My gift to Penny today was for tickets to go and see the theatrical adaptation of the Gaiman\McKean children’s book ‘‘ in April at the Lyric Hammersmith.