Apparently, teenagers no longer date. From my experience of step-daughter when she first found young love, she struggled to get him off the X Box. Sad times. On the flip side, my heart was warmed when my mum told me that her 82 year old partner had driven over a mile in his electric buggy to post a Valentine’s Day card through her letterbox. Isn’t that thoughtful of him, mum said to me. Yes, I replied, what have you got him? Some fair trade dark chocolate hearts, she said. I don’t think he likes dark chocolate, but they are better for him. Better for him? I repeated in my head. This is a man, I thought to myself, who travelled over cracked pavements and pot holes to personally deliver that card. A man who battled through wind and rain, with no more protection than a plastic roof. Who risked being splashed by puddles and who negotiated his way around pedestrians, some with pushchairs and all you can think about is his health! He’s the disabled equivalent of the Milk Tray man and you are denying him a treat!
That’s not a very romantic thought, I say out loud. You may as well just give him a cereal bar.
I’ve written him a poem too, she says. She hands me the card she has bought him:
‘Your eyes may be red,
Your veins purple and blue,
But you’re a ragged romantic
And I still love you’
‘A ragged romantic’ mum? I’m really thinking she’s got it in for him this year. Oh, I meant to put, ‘rugged’, she says with a chuckle, but I think I may just leave it how it is.
I look at mum despairingly. What hope have the youngsters got, I think to myself, as she licks the envelope and firmly seals it shut.