the blasts, the fallout, the sickness and the diar[y]hoea

A St. Valentine’s Day Massacre?

It was the big VD yesterday. And I don’t mean another problem for Littleboy. No it was the commercial success that is Valentine’s Day. A day of buying soft toys and chocolates and other pointless pink-and-fluffy detritus dipped in glitter.

On my way through town I saw throngs of people clutching last minute purchases from Clinton Cards, flustered men rushing into and out of florists with the dregs of the red rose buckets.

Pointless. Though I do appreciate the sentiment. Why not have a day set aside for romance? A day to enjoy the company of your partner is a good idea. It’s a time, however contrived, that can be planned and expected with, hopefully, excitement. Of course it should not be to the exclusion of more spontaneous romantic actions but it is nice to know that Valentines’ is there.

However, I do think you should try and come up with something a bit unique for a gift or a date, at least try. Do something you don’t get to do very often at the least. Who actually wants a floppy eared bunny with a heart gripped in it’s paws with “I wuv u” blazoned across it? Anyone?

When we were able, Enola and I went away; saw London or Paris or The Lake District, we went to the theatre, concerts. We made something special out of it beyond the Hallmark crap that swamps the high street shortly after Christmas is over and just before the Halloween shite appears. OK perhaps a slight exaggeration there.

Last night we simply went out for dinner. Very nice indeed. Great food and wine, no arguments for us and the evening was wrapping up quite nicely with coffee and mints when a girl appeared at the table a little way across the restaurant where sat a spotty youth and an anemic looking girl clinging to a single red rose.

“Oi Warren,” she yelled, “who the fuck is this?”

Warren quite literally appeared to shit himself. His date turned whiter if that was possible. We like the rest of the diners politely pretended not to be listening.

“Err.” said Warren. Bad move I thought.

“Does the skank know you’re going out with Becca?” screeched his assailant.

“We’re just mates Saff,” said Warren, “It’s nothing.”

His “mate” was not pleased with her sudden and unexpected demotion. “You said you and Becca had broken up,” she accused.

Saff smelled blood. “Right,” she produced a mobile, “I’m ringing her right now.” she marched out. Warren blanched. His date ran out.

“Wait Cassie,” he called weakly, blushing and looking at us studiously drinking our coffees in perfect English politeness as we stifled sniggers.

He fled the restaurant. Hastily chased by two waiters who wanted the bill paid.

Was it real or was it the most cunning and bold attempt to dodge a bill ever? Either way it was very, very funny. Unfortunately we left before the offending Warren was dragged back to pay or found hung, drawn and quartered in an alley so I’ll never know.


4 Responses to “A St. Valentine’s Day Massacre?”

  1. funny!! I’d love to know!!

  2. Ohh my! I LOVE when couples argue in public! And on Valentine’s Day, marvellous. I would not have been able to politely sip coffee though, would have had to turn a chair round to have a good look whilst coffee went cold.

    I wonder if warren bought 3 VD cards…. Poor girls.

  3. Or indeed, if he had VD and gave it to them all. Ha ha.

  4. Nutty: I’d love to know too 🙂

    Fi: He looked like the kind of person who may do just that! 🙂

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