That is the last concession I’ll make to what I feel (what an old cynic!) is just another special and genuinely romantic day that has been very successfully hijacked by sellers of cards, red roses and expensive meals, and hoteliers and even some holiday cottage owners (not all!). It’s big business, creating such tensions of expectations and obligations- and inevitable disappointment and humiliation for many.
Am I wrong, but used it not to be a time when shy would-be suitors sent almost anonymous messages or cards to someone they had not yet dared, or had the opportunity, to tell of their feelings? ‘Will you be my Valentine?’ It was truly exciting to receive such a card. Now one sees crowds of harassed looking people scouring the rows and rows of largely ghastly cards, all with a red rose or two and almost all with a couple of tipsily angled glasses of champagne possibly with glittery bubbles all around. Most people will be expecting one (or more) as their right, not enchanted by their arrival…
And driving through Matlock this evening I spied well more than one harassed looking men coming out of a supermarket clutching a bunch of red roses swathed in cellophane decorated – you’ve guessed it – with the obligatory red roses. Their expression spoke of fulfilled obligation, not undying love!
Why keep the romance and expressions of love for one day, say I?