I don’t have a problem with Valentine’s Day, apart from the fact that I get a little irritated/jealous when I hear half hysterical couples calling in to Radio 2 to tell the world they are in the car on their way to Paris, Venice, New York etc, for a surprise Valentine’s weekend. Yes it makes me a bit envious, if not bitter, that I have never inspired anyone to want to make such a gesture towards me, but then again I don’t think I deserve it really; if I was honest I’m not that kind of girl. I would rather see Liverpool FC play a game, than watch some romantic film snuggled up on the sofa with my man, while he whispered sweet nothings into my ear (I wouldn’t be able to hear him anyway, not at my age). I would never expect to be brought heart shaped toast in bed, by my lover wearing nothing but a red bow on his you know what. Although I wouldn’t mind a bunch of flowers as a small token of appreciation, for me as a human being I suppose.
I remember one year it all got left a bit too late and I was handed a small bouquet of what looked like sweet peas, one of my favourites, but on closer inspection it turned out they were fake. Now my question is should I have been angry at the lack of effort or grateful that I had been given anything at all?