Mushy

Happy V-day everyone! Yes, it's a day to celebrate love and all it offers, but please remember that there are 364 others where showing your appreciation for your other halves is most welcome, even by throwing your dirty laundry in the basket, putting the loo seat down, taking out the rubbish on a rainy evening or SMSing on an unexpectedly late night out to let them know you're not face down in a gutter somewhere.

This is the first Valentine's day in the six years I've been with Oran that we've not been together (aw!) We don't go all out to celebrate it or anything - our various V-days have ranged from low-key (home-made steak sandwiches and a DVD) to outright disastrous (a trip to the cinema in Stirling to see About Schmidt, easily one of the worst films I've ever seen). So I wasn't expecting much from today - maybe a phone call or a text message or an email, and likewise hadn't sent him a present. But... about five minutes ago I had a phonecall from reception and have just made my way back upstairs with a heeyyoooooge bunch of flowers. A dozen red roses and more besides - I could have hidden behind them on the walk back up if I'd wanted to. Cue lots of oohing and ahhing from my flowerless colleagues and complete mortification from me, although secretly (sh!) I am having a complete girly mushout. Dankjewel, schatje!