Yesterday was Valentine's day. I blogged about an avocado keeper. My romantic gift was a new bicycle seat cover.
My special Valentines treat was a visit to the 'opera'. I've never been to the opera before, but I'm assuming this was no madame butterfly. The orchestra sounded like castrated dog wailing. The singing sounded like the mating call of the cat. To hear someone scratch their fingers down the blackboard would have been sheer relief. After taking a short nap during the middle of the show (I had to do something to distract myself from the extraordinary screech projected at me from the front of the room) I awoke to find the lead character singing to a giant purple plastic horse that was being led across stage by a guy in pyjamas. It was at best 'avant guard' at worst one hour and forty five minutes of my life I'll never get back. I would have left at intermission, but there wasn't one.
Valentine's day is not love. Love is laughing about the good times and keeping laughing through the bad times. Love is sitting calmly next to your wife, knowing she would quite happily plunge a knife into your thigh for bringing you to such a god awful place. Love is forgiving your husband because you know he meant so very, very well. Love is the gift of an avocado keeper or presenting your love with a bicycle seat cover for Valentine's day because you know she's just not the kind of girl who wants flowers.