On the morning of 14th February I was greeted by an unexpected audible ping on entering the living room in Chez Strachan. Foolishly, I romanticised this aural distraction maybe emanated from Cupid’s bow string; its source the forceful triggering an arrow in my direction; a gesture of amour from a love struck valentine.

A notion, though, soon dispelled when I realised the noise’s origin wasn’t an act of the god of love. Instead, it became apparent that the sound was the result of the elastic on my boxers snapping; an event necessitating a hasty retreat upstairs to fix the stricken waistband.

I’d never used blu tac before to keep my shorts up and am not advocating it as a long term fix. For the record, though, they’ve not fallen down since I administered this temporary repair an hour ago, in the absence of a safety pin.

On suggesting above I hoped an arrow was heading my way, I obviously meant it metaphorically. To my knowledge Cupid doesn’t fire real arrows…… It goes without saying, shooting real arrows at a loved ones (or indeed anyones) heart an act that’d be wantonly reckless.

Convincing the local constabulary of reasons a suitor is laid prostrate with an arrow in their chest would be a hard sell. I’d venture the police and Crown Prosecution Service would be highly cynical of a witness statement explaining a paramour’s injuries were sustained by a small winged individual firing a real arrow, as opposed to the usual metaphorical weaponry.

Adding Cupid’s motive was highlighting your love for the critical ill individual introducing an even more incredulous spin to the tale. To summarise, Indoor bow and arrow usage is foolhardy…… Not to be confused with Stan Laurel’s side kick who’s Oliver Hardy.

Anyhow, after the blu tac fix to my undies, on Valentine’s Day morning I perched on a living room armchair waiting for the postman to confirm the god of love’d despatched that metaphorical arrow in my direction.

Alas, none were forthcoming; an energy bill and takeaway flyer the only correspondence delivered by our postman Jack. Unsurprisingly, neither containing requests for me to become their valentine..

While still living at my marital home I’d not gone overboard with celebrations on the 14th February for many years. This a consequence of deepening relationship toxicity, along with not being aboard a boat on that particular date.

Middle-aged cynicism has resulted in recent subscription to notions of those who,  due to commercialism, contemptuously dismiss Valentine’s Day. Particularly, I share their sentiments that greetings cards and flower prices are hiked up cynically during this time.

While buying a card last Thursday in the Hallmark store, I spoke to one of these fellow cynics; a guy who was openly dismissive about the great Valentines Day merchandising ‘rip off’.

During a break from choosing a ‘Happy Baby Sitters Day’ card, he spoke of his vehement opposition to unnecessarily lining the pockets of the greeting cards business. Adding only a fool would purchase their products on contrived and meaningless days of celebration.


babysitters day

.As much as I dislike using the word prematurely around Valentine’s Day, I’m going to have to draw a line under this blog prematurely…… I think my shorts blu tac has finally given up the ghost!!