As a gift straight from my heart, what could be more romantic than a bespoke and specially crafted verse made just for Mrs Bryntin on Valentines Day?
Even better, to have it ready a whole day before it’s given?
And, as a bonus, it won’t cost me the price of a card and a meal out? Result.
She’ll have to wait for the dozen red roses though, I’m not paying what the shop is asking for them before Valentines Day. The day after they’re practically giving them away and, with a quick squirt of Baby Bio in the vase, you’d never know how droopy they were on the way home from the forecourt store.
To be honest, I have struggled with the concept of Valentines between a married couple. I always imagined that making your wedding day vows was enough. You make promises, together, in public. Everyone knows where you stand as a couple. Then you eat cake and get drunk. Job done.
And you know if some element of the contract has been broken when you get home and find your possessions on the front lawn. In suitcases if you’re lucky. How easy is all that?
Apparently too easy.
You are also required to profess your love on at least one day a year by making another subscription payment to Hallmark cards (many other crap card companies are available), just as you have to at Christmas, Easter and on birthdays of anyone you remotely know or work with.
But for Valentines you have to add some ‘romance’ to the equation in some way. Just you, your partner, a candlelit dinner table in a favoured eating establishment, shared only with the other 53 couples doing likewise, to take advantage of the special, excruciatingly-punning Valentine-themed menu.
Three courses, first glass of wine free and probably with a starter of Oysters, which you avoid eating by deftly flicking the contents of the shells, unseen, across the room and casually remark ‘Well, he’s making a fuss isn’t he,’ when a man gripping his face yells that he has been hit in the eye by some giant flying lump of salty snot.
And you should see the look on the face if you ‘forget’. It’s nearly as bad as the one when you ‘forget’ the wedding anniversary. Really scary.
But, if you’re a wind-up masochist like me, pretty funny.
Well, as usual I am bucking the trend, leading the revolution against unnecessary card purchasing (the lifecycle of a greetings card: starts as a tree, beautiful, not doing anyone any harm, cut down, made into paper, printed, sold in to stores seven weeks before day of sale, purchased by worried looking man on Valentines Day, in garbage bin day after) and might also be heading for my second divorce, by absolutely and utterly refusing to do any of it and instead offer my heartfelt verse, for which I’ll be using the exact random words from WordPress when I logged in today as the starting point.
What could go wrong?
Well, no one has said it would be easy apparently.
Your eyes are as deep as
the community pool
where we swim to
look after our health
That accounts for your scenic
lumps and bumps
that please me
but damage my wealth
There is apparently no deep end to my ingenuity. Or depth. One of those.
( Silly SOD Verses. How the words are generated. Probably. )