Valentines in Lockdown. Oh my god, that has to be the worst thing ever. Said people, probably. Because the key rule of lockdown is you have to make sure you tell everyone how tough it is so that they then see it as tough, or tougher, in some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. I still think that lockdown wouldn’t be half as bad if people weren’t constantly telling each other how bad it is.
But anyway, lockdown Valentines.
Exactly the same as normal Valentines, to be honest. But with less work, and Carole gawping over her serial killer boyfriend.
But pretty much the same as normal. We briefly discussed it the other day – whether we were doing cards or presents and decided – quite quickly – that we weren’t. I made a roast dinner. That was romantic.
Carole was also romantic, as she went through her undies drawer and threw out all the pairs of socks she’d worn so much that she’d practically worn out. I mean, come on…
But that wasn’t the end of it. Oh no, romance spilled from every pore of my being!
I bought a kilogram of Nutella for pancake day. That was quite romantic.
And I got two bunches of daffodils – the cheapest of all the flowers – on the shop because I missed the smell of daffodils that should have been thrown out a few days ago after we threw the old ones away. That was also romantic.
Honestly. Romantic AF, that’s me.
Oh, and I didn’t butt in when she was doing her jigsaw that I bought her for Christmas. Even though I really wanted to because I could see several pieces that went together and she didn’t put them together and it was driving me mad. But I hung back. I didn’t get involved. It’s not my place to do it. It’s a present for her. But honestly, they’re still not joined together – I think – inside this table, right now. Mere inches from me. But I won’t interfere. Not I. Because I am letting her do this jigsaw on her own.
That’s romantic or something I think.
Isn’t it? I’m sure it is. Love is… not doing your partner’s jigsaw because they haven’t put the pieces together you think they should have. That’s what they say.
And if they don’t, they bloody ought to.