You know you’ve got kids when you and your husband have a
hot date on Valentine’s Day - at Parents’ Evening.
That’s how I’ll be spending this February 14th.
It’s warm, I get a seat (albeit a tiny child’s one ) it’s a
ride out, and I get to spend quality time with my husband.
There’s even an intermediary to get you talking about the
kids when spouse to spouse conversation runs dry.
Who says romance is dead?
Hallmark? It’s
probably where the school shoes have scuffed the wall
Valentine’s Day should be the most romantic event of the
year. Proclamations of love. Hearts and flowers. Passionate
assignations.
Take your average married couple.
He whispers sweet nothings: “Have you seen the toenail
clippers?”
She luxuriates in the bath. “Mommy, I need a poo. Can I come
in?”
In the early years, cards were thoughtful, padded affairs
with heartfelt messages. Now it’s comedy or generic cards that are straight to the
point and practical.
‘Happy Valentine’s
Day, love ? P.S. Can you turn the oven off in 30 as I don’t want to burn the kids' Crispy Pancakes?’
I might opt for Asda’s Smart Price (7p) Valentine’s Day card,
if it hadn’t sold out.
My aunt and uncle were way ahead of that. They sent each
other the same Valentine’s Day Card for 20 years. They’re divorced now.
On my wedding anniversary, Dad sent my husband a card which
read: ‘You’re my hero’ and pictured
an amusing cartoon of a beleaguered male and his nagging wife.
This followed Dad’s pre- altar words of wisdom to Mr N:
“She’s off my hands now, son.”
The best a woman can
get
In fairness, I have received some lovely gifts from my other
half. But the bouquets of roses and champagne truffles have downscaled to a box
of Cadbury’s Roses, as this covers all bases. Plus, I can spend the savings on
some new finials.
One ex bought me an ornately wrapped pressie. I excitedly tore open the gift to the gushes
of: “Oh, you shouldn’t have,”
Only to reveal a Ladyshave.
“It’s got two spare blades,” he quipped.
Come dine with me -
and 100 other random people
I’m happy to stay in on Valentine’s Day. February is rather chilly.
Maybe I’m getting old and jaded. Maybe the honeymoon stage
is over.
it’s not like I live on Coronation Street, where you can
conveniently walk next door to Nick’s Bistro.
No reservation is required – even though it’s the busiest
backstreet restaurant on any given week night. Just sit next to all your
neighbours while Nigel Havers serves you Dom Perignon and oysters.
Maybe I’ve just had too many unromantic meals..
Nobody puts Baby in a corner
On our first Valentine’s evening we booked a three course
meal at a swanky restaurant. The price tag was hefty, but love is… priceless.
It didn’t bode well when we joined the queue outside and
were handed raffle tickets, IKEA returns desk style.
Once inside - and after the blue tinge had faded - we were
guided to our table.
It was intimate.
“Can I borrow this?” the man two tables along said, as he
leaned over to grab the salt cellar.
We had a candle. Which blew out whenever anybody opened the
toilet door.
We were breathless. We had to breathe in to let people
squeeze past our seats.
I had a rose in a plastic tube from a guitarist named
Manuel, who performed a medley of hits by The Mavericks, Los Lobos and The
Gypsy Kings. It transpired that he was actually a welder named Kevin from Chelmsley
Wood.
There was time to whisper sweet nothings before the starter
arrived - an hour later.
As I bit into my
frozen pud, the gong struck and our session was over. The next tranche of
diners were seated faster than you can say Black Forest Gateau.
It was as romantic as Alan Partridge’s date at the Travel
Tavern’s all you can eat Valentine’s Buffet; ‘though we did not get chocolate
mousse all over the valance.
In subsequent years we tried other eateries, including
Wetherspoons. You can’t beat £15 for
steak and wine. What woman doesn’t like to devour a 20oz steak, washed down
with a pint of Ruddles? Especially a veggie like me.
But the pub was crammed to capacity. Starving punters were
poised to pounce on the end of any available table, clasping their coffee card
and a packet of wet wipes to dab away any residue.
The following year I tried to find vouchers that we could
use, but the restrictions were so limited that it would be impossible to down a
four course meal, complementary rose and
enjoy the Sabrina tribute act, between the hours of 1 and 2am. On a Monday.
This year I'm content to stay in with a bag of chips and a Lion
Bar. There many benefits:
Heating, Freeview (eliminates the need for small talk) and somebody
to cuddle up to; my cat Bella!
My not so funny Valentine:
Cautionary tales from the drip tray
Once I dated a man who described McDondald’s as a
restaurant. The same individual referred to Sports Soccer as a designer outlet.
Another suggested we go halves on the 2-4-1 special. After
sending me up the bar to order, he insisted on the change from his £2.50.
A friend’s (not me, really) partner gave her a fiver to buy
herself a bunch of carnations from the Murco garage while he was filling the
Mondeo up.
“Get me 20 Silk Cut and a scotch egg while you’re there, bab,”
he shouted across the forecourt.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
Lovely post, I have never had the raffle ticket experience in a restaurant, but have experienced the candal blowing out and having to breath in so other diners can get to the toilet (and that's been when the restaurant was virtually empty). Love the Asda basic card too, pure class. Who says romance is dead?
ReplyDeleteThanks Sarah. Glad I'm not the only one to recognise this. Well, Happy Valentine's Day for tomorrow; and thanks again for reading/commenting.
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