In case it has escaped your notice, it is Valentine's Day tomorrow. I only know this because I was in a card shop on Wednesday when a young lady said to the assistant: 'I know it's against the spirit of the thing, but do you sell Valentine's cards in multi-packs?' I could see her point. When you're young, why put all your bets on one horse?
It reminded me that from about the ages of five to 10, I used to get a card every year. I now realise my mystery admirer was my maiden aunt who lived next door. Then when I got to secondary school age, she didn't send one. Which really upset me. When I was 12, I had a big padded card with a donkey on the front from a genuine admirer, who couldn't even spell my name properly. I was so embarrassed, I hid it in a drawer. I was worried my mother would find it. She is a stickler for spelling and grammar.
I'm not very romantic. Bit of a cold fish really. I used to get a bit tearful at the J R Hartley advert for Yellow Pages, although I always smiled at the way he pronounced 'old' in the line: 'it is rather old'. However, Mr Grigg, despite his gruff exterior, is a great big softy. He buys the slushiest cards he can find, with huge lettering on the front: 'To my wonderful wife' and then some naff poem inside. I'm touched, but he knows I find it hard not to vomit. But the time he wrote me his own poem inside a card, well, that was romantic.
So as I searched the racks for a suitable card for my own Valentine, I found it really difficult. So I plumped for the comedy option. It's actually a birthday card, but I'll cross that out. I also got another more suitable 'art' card (but defintely without verse) in case he gets upset. But for me, in this village, it was just a classic. As I will be giving him the card tomorrow, please don't say anything. But here's a sneak preview:
Happy Valentine's Day!
That's about it,
Love Maddie x
It's Shrove Tuesday, the day before Lent. General Custer, he of the face carved out of Mount Rushmore and last seen loitering in the pub...
The village square is looking very pretty this year. There are lights on Christmas trees outside the houses and holly wreaths on the doors...
Once upon a time, a long time ago, I was a child in a meadow with a woodland circle of beech trees around me. And there was clover growing i...
When the young Gerald Durrell and his family moved to Corfu in 1935, it didn’t take him long to get to grips with the local wildlife. I...
In Lush Places, the village square is beginning to look a lot like Christmas. The are festive trees above the houses of doors and a big ...