Who was my secret valentine?

Will Gore recalls an episode of acute teenage embarrassment after receiving an anonymous card

Hunting for chocolate hearts is now a Gore family tradition (Getty)

Valentine’s Day can be a minefield. Yes, yes, it’s commercial nonsense. No, no, don’t waste your money. But heaven forfend that you should forget it.

As a child, 14 February was marked by my mother giving both me and my brother a chocolate heart or some such token. We probably wrote her cards occasionally. She and my dad exchanged cards too – if dad had remembered. I recall him buying flowers once or twice, probably after forgetting about the card.

By the time I reached secondary school, there was sometimes the odd frisson of excitement in the classroom or playground when notes would be passed – often via neutral parties – expressing heartfelt pleas. At least, that’s what I supposed they must express. I was much too shy to send one to whoever I had a crush on at the time; and it never occurred to me that I (square boy that I was) might be on the receiving end of anyone else’s amorous attention.