Valentine’s Day looms with all the romance of a post-curry fart under the duvet.
It’s the day of the year when men are left with no excuse but to do something “romantic”. The fact that they’ve been boxed into that position through extreme pressure and relentless marketing kind of undoes the romantic part for me. Where’s the display of devotion in making a dash to the local florists, just because you risk getting grief if you fail to make any kind of gesture? 

The Japanese have taken Valentine’s Day to its logical conclusion. There, younger women working in offices (fetchingly known as OLs, or office ladies) are obliged to hand out sweets, chocolate or flowers to their male colleagues. The Japanese call the practice “giri-choco”, meaning “chocolate obligation”. At least they have an honest term for it.

Wouldn’t it me more romantic to take your partner completely by surprise on any other day of the year except Valentine’s Day, with an unexpected act of love? Breakfast in bed one Sunday morning after a particularly gruelling week…a voucher for a massage or facial…a thoughtful gift, lovingly wrapped, with a tender note inside.

You see, I’m full of great ideas. Shame I rarely put them into practice. I blame the children, myself. With three of them in the house (all girls, too), there’s hardly a chance to exchange a couple of uninterrupted sentences, never mind gifts of love.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to run to the shop for some “giri-choco”
of my own.