A Valentine's to Remember

Not having celebrated Valentine's Day for about 15 years; the last time when my now husband surprised me with a courier prancing around in a tux whilst carrying a basket of red roses and serenading the person lucky enough to get said rose. Upon joking about said courier, I received a rose and a verse in front of colleagues, followed by the inevitable red face. This led to wanting the world to swallow me up as I tried to flee only to further my embarrassment by walking into the glass door, leaving an imprint on the now not so shiny, sparkly clean, invisible door.

   So for 15 years I have quite happily foregone the Valentine's Day love fest of overpriced meals for 2, red roses which for the price, you’d expect to be gold leafed and the schmaltz that oozes out of every Rain Forest destroying card. Or so I thought . . .  

    A trip to the shopping centre with my 13 year old son so he could depart from his hard earned cash (a daily paper round in all weathers) opened my eyes and, dare I say, my heart to the wonders that greet a Valentine. Cards of all shapes and sizes adorned with the cutest of animals and teddies, soft toys with take me home faces and huggable soft fur and the sweet smell of chocolate filling the air and tempting you with shiny foils.

  
So my son bought a beautiful heart pendant and soppy card as I moaned all the way round the shops about wanting something and that we should buy into this Valentine’s Day malarkey. Not because I needed an undying show of affection but because I wanted something cute!

    So Valentine’s morning came and I get a Terry’s Chocolate Orange thrown at me; woo hoo! As a lover of chocolate and newly conformed to Valentine’s this was a lovely surprise.  Cheers for the choc but see ya later as I left to spend the day with a friend in need.  

   After a deliciously perfect day with friend, involving bacon butties, homemade cupcakes and arts and crafts with her 4 year old (so cute!), I began the hour long journey home when my car decided to break down at a set of traffic lights on the A22. After three traffic light changes and in desperate need of some help and an escape from all the abuse being hurled in my direction, a kind driver stopped to ask if I was ok. She was amazing! Making up quickly for my damsel in distress tears that sent womankind back to the Stone Age, she set about ordering people out of their cars to push me to the curb. Successfully, this kind hearted woman had done what no one else did; thought, stopped and sorted out in a matter of moments. A show of strength and an ideal role model for all women, she offered to stay with me. I declined, unable to thank her enough for what she had done and a bit embarrassed at my stressed out behaviour. But now I was alone with the forest on one side and traffic whizzing by; the drivers affording an odd glance before they disappeared.

     Now a dilemma; did I sit in the car or stand outside it? Sitting in the car, I worried I may get hit and crushed and standing outside the car, I worried I maybe a victim of some heinous crime (too much CSI and Criminal Minds!). An anxious hour later, my husband came to the rescue with the help of a friend (we are a one car family and therefore a dying breed). We left the stupid car on the verge as not only had it failed miserably to go into gear for me causing me to be stuck in the middle of the road, I had successfully drained the battery whilst listening to the radio and having the heater on full blast. Oops. And hubby had to get up at 4am for work. Double oops!

     Back home, my Chocolate Orange sat on the table and I devoured it, not whole as a Chocolate Orange is even far too big for my huge gob- honestly, it is! I was fed up after a lovely day had been ruined by yucky, moronic drivers who found a new toy today in the form of their horn. Finally my sister and her boyfriend finished their rip off, loved up meal and came over so we could jump start the car. It didn’t need jump starting. The engine revved under the manly handling and then it slid effortlessly into gear. My sore shoulder was evidence that the car did not go into gear; no matter what I did. Now the satanic car purred softly like a kitten, sounding like a gentle laugh as hubby drove it successfully away.

   In conclusion, Valentine’s Day proved to be full of surprises; some wonderful, others unwanted but all showing the love and care from family, friends and a complete stranger without the need for cards and cute teddies. As for my husband, he got the Valentine’s gift every man desires; a car that will only work for man. . .