Will you be my Valentine?

So we have reached Valentine's day. Someone says this is supposed to be the day when we declare our love. That's what I'll do.

Dig, I love you.


I love you because when you set off for the big meeting in London last week to meet the corporate zombie woman who lives in the tunnels, you looked like a hobo.

I think that shows your attitude of I'll do it my way or not at all. And that's what I love about you. You are the most obstinate and awkward person I'll ever know. You can even beat me at my own game in being a stubborn bullhead. And I admire this quality. I really do. Because it also means perseverance and persistence. It means never give up, even when to stand up again means life will pack another smack in the mouth.

I love you for that resilience. And it works too for those moments when I'm screaming and lost in the middle of nowhere and you say in your public school voice, the one you keep for disasters, emergencies and the apocalypse, words of quiet comfort, like, everything will be alright when we find a draper.

Yes! It will! We just need to find a draper, and everything will be alright!

I need that. And all that firm vision and fixed purpose, that fortitude and strength. Especially when, in your honour, I create a carbon offering like this.


Now all I need is fifteen metres of upholstery fabric.