Ok so I didn’t receive any chocolate pumps or heart shaped boxes or cards from secret admirers, but there is every possibility (and I mean every possibility) that my highly sensitive junk mail filter may have bounced the lovelorn confessions from a certain Johnny Depp and the invite for lunch from Brangelina.
It wasn’t that I was expecting much because I wasn’t (well maybe a little), and I know that Valentines Day is just like Easter and Christmas and Shrove Tuesday being commercialised and just another excuse to wait in line for price-checks with thousands of others at shopping centres without any natural air or light, but I was kind of hoping that someone – even Peter down in reptiles – could have given me a little something to cheer about.
So next year instead of waiting by the letterbox pretending not to care, I’m booking myself a trip to Willy Wonkas or the Cadbury factory down in Tassie, because at least then I can treat myself to my own weight in chocolate.
Now that’s something worth not dieting for!
Ms rocky-road M.
