Stacey and I don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, at all. We even forget that it’s in February until we’re bombarded with all the adverts for overpriced meals and novelty gifts. Sure it’s a completely commercial tradition, but that’s not the reason we refuse to celebrate it.
I aired this opinion once, and I was once verbally struck by a woman who told me,
“If you can’t take one day a year to show how much you love your wife, then you don’t deserve her.”
To which I replied,
“If my wife doesn’t get enough love year-round that she feels one set day is necessary for me to prove it, then we probably shouldn’t be together.”
The point is, romance and passion does not have to be limited to one day, and I’ve found that Valentine’s Day serves as an easy safety net for poor lovers to make up for the rest of the year. Stacey and I treat each other quite often, and it usually requires very little money to treat one another.
Just a couple of weeks ago when Stacey was feeling under the weather, I decided to cook her a sponge cake. The result was actually a bit of a disaster. First I accidentally grilled it, so started again. Then I made one which came out looking okay, but tasted ghastly. My baking skills leave a lot to be desired…
First and second attempts at a surprise sponge cake. It’s the thought that counts right?
We threw them both out and settled for Cornflake cakes instead. You can never go wrong with Cornflake cakes.
Anyway, as we don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day, we haven’t bought each other anything. So instead, here’s a gift for you. A little Valentine’s Day story. Another from the award-winning Aldershot Stories collection I wrote many years ago.