It’s that tine of the year when a young man’s thoughts turn to fancy and a young woman’s thoughts turn to a million things because that’s the way their brain processes information.
It is, of course, VD.
Valentine’s Day. Or, as I’m sure we used to call it, Saint Valentine’s Day.
About a hundred years ago, at school, we used to have an inter-class Saint Valentine’s Day postal service – so that you (or someone) could anonymously post a Saint Valentine’s Day card to the object(s) of your (or their) desires.
I think I can remember getting about three cards, over the course of my time at that school.
Of course, there’s always the possibility my memory has failed and the actual number of cards is lower.
I never got any Valentines cards whilst at school… I’m glad to say.
Back then, I think I would have died of embarrassment.
PS, why do I need to enter my details now, whenever I comment. I never used to have to, as your site always remembered them. But it don’t no more.
Hmm. It’s your browser wot remembers any credentials that you tell it to. Wot browser are you running? And has there been an upgrade/change?
Chrome.
No changes that I am aware of.
I’ll look through the settings.
I’m sure a number of my peers sent themselves cards just to big it up
I don’t think I got any Valentines cards at school. By the time I got to senior school I think my heyday was past. Apparently when I was seven my mother was called in to school and asked if she could persuade me to stop promising to marry any girl that asked me as I was leaving a trail of brokenhearted young schoolgirls in my wake as they discovered my affections weren’t exclusively given to them. By my teens there was a distinct lack of girls who would go out with me, let alone plight there troth in my direction.
Youth is wasted on the young. Teenaged years moreseo. 🙂