DESPITE those ancient clerics who claim to be 'the' St Valentine, each one being put to death by the way, today is yet another chance for the martyred Valentine to spread his wings and douse us all with loving thoughts.
Well, for some but not for others. I know of one woman who sends herself a yellow rose every February 14 and all her friends are impressed by this romantic gesture by an admirer.
She has fun leading her friends on with little suggestions as to the identity of her ghostly lover, and no-one has yet guessed he doesn't exist.
In the same vein is the teacher in a girls school. "One morning I was worried by the downhearted looks of three of the girls. I asked them what was wrong. It turned out they were disappointed that they had received no Valentine cards - these 17 year olds were really upset.
"I told them not to worry, I never got cards at their age but I said, later today I am flying to Paris to meet up with my handsome Frenchman who was going to take me to the Hotel George V for a glamorous dinner and dancing and whatever else happens.
"Their eyes nearly popped out of their head, suddenly I was the coolest teacher in the school. However, I had to have a good story the following week to satisfy their curiosity. At the end of term I admitted my fantasy."
I Have Told This Story Before...
...But I think it's worth repeating. I can't remember exactly when it began, around about 12 or 13. I started getting very colourful Valentine cards through the post.
No signature, only 'Just Me' or 'Just Me Again' or 'Just Me to You 'or some such message. I couldn't guess who 'Just Me' was but I went to school with my head held high and my Valentine card in my school bag.
As the years went on so the cards kept coming. My parents didn't know who it was, my friends didn't know who it was, my brothers denied any involvement.
Boyfriends came on the scene and went off into the blue and the mystery remained. Even in my 22nd year the mystery card popped through the letter box on February 14 and was taken into work to show off to the girls in the production office in Ulster Television - I was the envy of them all when I told them the story of years being the apple of someone's eye. Again, my self-esteem was sky high.
So came the day of my wedding and the reception in the long-gone stately Glenavna Hotel in Whiteabbey.
Picture the scene. The end of a lovely meal, lots of fun and laughter, relief that the ceremony went well, time to relax and enjoy. The waitress arrived with the coffee pots on a silver tray but bumped into the middle tier of the wedding cake and the whole thing began to collapse - there was a gasp from the guests, for a wedding cake to collapse during the reception was a sure sign the marriage too would collapse but the best man was quick thinking and he and the groom caught the two top tiers and avoided a marital breakdown for over 50 years.
So we came to reading the telegrams and cards. Lovely messages, cheeky messages, double entendre messages, laughs and blushes.
Hold Your Breath
And then we came to the last one. It was a Valentine card. Best man Tom turned to me and there was a pause, my heart was thumping - what would the love of my life think of a Valentine card I suspected was from my faithful admirer? As a boyfriend he had been suspicious for a couple of years, so now awkward or what...
"This will be the last Valentine I will send. I now pass you over to the man who will love you for the rest of your life. I wish you both all happiness. Just Me."
I feel the tears prickle at the memory.
As people obviously wondered what this was all about, I looked at my new husband and he was smiling, had he been tipped the wink? After a good few seconds the spotlight landed on a handsome man who was getting to his feet.
He stood, blew a kiss and proclaimed: "That's just from me."
It was my dear uncle Jimmie, a neighbour, our two families were the closest of friends. He had keep a young girl's self-esteem high during school days and into young adulthood. My parents were the only ones who knew the story.
Perhaps it was this gesture that inspired me to send my mother a bouquet for St Valentine's Day when I realised she was feeling a bit low. I wanted to cheer her up so I had a display of gladiola delivered that morning.
No message, just the flowers. There was great excitement and when my Dad came home at teatime she was full of thanks, hugs and kisses. But there was a dreadful silence from my father, he told her they were not from him and went into a deep sulk. He was jealous...
Maybe a bit caught out as he hadn't even sent a card, so it was a very tense situation. I was the only one who knew the secret and I didn't want to spoil my mum's pleasure having an anonymous admirer but after a while I had to 'fess up' as they say. My Dad was relieved, my mother - well I thought I detected definite disappointment. My gesture backfired big time.
I discovered a new and novel way to send flowers by the way - delivered through the letter box (as long as it's wide enough), a long package of delicately wrapped fresh flowers, so handy and easy to order online. More at bloomandwild.com.
Happy St Valentine's Day dear reader, may romance blossom and fun and games commence.
