In second year at high school, I sent six anonymous Valentines to six different boys. Maybe I thought I was performing some sort of emotional public service. I didn't want anyone to feel left out.
Now, I think Valentine's Day is commercialised fluff, but the kids have fun with it. Tess (9) was obviously hoping to receive a card or a chocolate heart, but when I suggested she actually send one, she fired me a look. 'Too emba-wass-ing!?'
Reap what ye sow, child. I am here in my second-hand cashmere jumper, with warm bosom, if consolation hugs are required.
Here's a short poem I wrote over 20 years ago. It was for my main man, Francis Macdonald. Two decades and two kids later, we are still eating soup together in the sun-lit kitchen. I'm not complaining.
Happy Valentines. May you all have soup to share.
My favourite tweet of yesterday was from @mommajessiec
70% of marriage is yelling "what" from a different room.
In the end, Tess and I had a girls' night in. She begged to do my eye make up and I couldn't refuse. Crazy bat-wing nonsense. I'm the older one.
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