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.
Subscribe to Independent Premium to bookmark this article
Want to bookmark your favourite articles and stories to read or reference later? Start your Independent Premium subscription today.
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies