V-day or D-day?

This Valentine's Day, I opted for the conventional dinner celebration, prepared a smashing dinner at home, if I do say so myself (and I do, cos the Gilb thought he’d had better black bean stir fry elsewhere, the bastard!)… which brings me on to one of my little paranoias in life – I never have, and never will, do Valentine’s at a restaurant. In my head, it runs like a well-choreographed ballet, where all the waiters flutter in from stage right, pour the wine simultaneously, and then all the lovers pick up their glasses, entwine their arms, and drink from each other’s glasses. Have you been to a restaurant on Valentine’s – is that how it works? Has anyone ever stabbed themselves on thorns of the bushes of red roses they stuff in every nook and cranny? Has anyone ever held up the restaurant and stolen all the overpriced flowers to sell back to the public and then retire in wealthy bliss? These are very serious questions….