What a bunch of old cobblers Valentine’s Day is. Truly. I don’t get it. And before you go raising your eyebrows, it’s not sour grapes. I have had a splendiferous and romantic weekend so far. An impromptu visit to our favourite Korean café yesterday evening followed by watching Gravity; Mr. J’s delicious pancakes with maple syrup and bacon for breakfast today; an afternoon mooching about town looking at nice stuff in the shops and chatting in cafes; and then a nice dinner at home. Mr. J is currently playing his guitar in front of the log fire. It’s very nice.
This morning we went to Sainsbury’s and most people’s baskets had steak, green beans, new potatoes, and wine in them. I wondered who had bought the supermarket sexy lingerie set, which I’m pretty sure you could buy as a job lot with a box of Lindor. Is that romantic? There’s something very disheartening about the kind of romance that can be bought wrapped in cellophane at the supermarket.
Besides, it puts me in mind of the way that no sooner than the tinsel come down in the shops, the crème eggs appear. It’s horribly mercenary. And it capitalises on everyone’s insecurity. Nobody wants to say on Valentine’s day that they didn’t get a gift or whatever. And for the singletons it must be a bloody nightmare.
I’m not big on romance occasions anyway. Especially when they are horrible commercial money-spinners. The wedding industry shocks me. I was never a girl that dreamed of a big wedding. Blowing twenty grand on single party shocks me. Romance is all about the two people involved in that romance, it’s not a spectator sport.
My top romantic moments are the ones that are unplanned, sometimes incidental. They are the everyday excitement of a shared life, shared interests, small kindnesses, and unconditional sharing. My best romantic moment of the week was telling Mr. J that a little group of blue tits came to visit our garden while he was away, and knowing that he was as pleased as I was about it. So, if anyone asks, I didn’t do anything for Valentine’s day. Well, nothing out of the ordinary. And I didn’t want to.