Valentine Schmalentine

I bought petrol today and had to queue to pay behind a line of trembling men with terror in their eyes and £9.99 bunches of half dead flowers in their hands. They were panic buying some lurve action because it’s Valentine’s Day.

My husband has a free pass on this celebration because I made it clear to him on our first February 14th together (34 years ago now) that if he needed to buy something to prove that he loved me it was all over for us. And it’s a tradition we’ve upheld. Hallmark can keep their nose out of our business, I’d consider a  Valentine’s card as an insult.

Even though we’re a pair of Valentine Objectors don’t worry –  there’s romance a plenty in my house. When he comes home from work wherever I am in the house he finds me, says hello and chats before doing anything else, he always gives me the frothy top on his coffee when we’re out and without fail he warms my side of the bed when it’s cold. Plus, he lets me have the Sky Planner pretty much to myself. Oh, and he recycles my recyling mistakes (I never get it right) with a smile . And he still looks at me that way after all this time. It’s a love ting 365 days a year not just February 14th.

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