VD

Yeah yeah yeah. Valentine's Day. I wondered why the newsagent at the station had suddenly sprouted buckets of flowers for sale – it honestly took me a day to realise.

And so I have, today, with an acknowledged sense of cliche but honest-to-god it's coincidence, stopped off at Konditor and Cook and bought myself a big slice of Curly Wurly cake (though truth be told I was actually fancying some treacle tart); been to the gym; and read other people's experiences of this Hallmark holiday. And had an A Level flashback when Crockatt & Powell posted a UA Fanthorpe poem… Basically, pretty much what this anti VD card of Meish's says.

And no, even if I weren't single (a situation which, apparently, merits no +1 for moral support even for my cousin's wedding), I wouldn't be frolicking hearts and flowers. Because it's all mass-produced, unheartfelt, desperation.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have the Guardian and several back issues of New Scientist to read. Mmm. Now that's what I call a good day.

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