Well, that's not strictly true. It's here, it's queer and it's looming next week again. I tried to book a table (for eight) at a lovely restaurant called Pushka on Rodney St in Liverpool. Do eat there if you can - I guarantee the owners Glen and Doug will give you the warmest welcome and the bestest food. But Doug just laughed when I asked for a table on 14th February. This was two days ago. I was told they had their first booking for Valentine's night in October. What is wrong with these people?
It's not like I was hoping for a romantic meal for two. No, no, no. Not for me the trappings of our anniversary obsessed society. The Lovely Boyfriend happens to have his birthday on that day. Much as I love him, I balk at the thought of sharing a night with other candlelit tables for two. I can do that on any night of the week. I don't have to be told. It's so forced. So, I thought a few mates, some wine, some food, yadda yadda yadda...
How naive I was. It's my own fault, I suppose. I choose to ignore the fact that people are so organised. That they book holidays, weddings and meals out so far in advance that if I did it, I would surely forget I'd done it and miss the bloody thing anyway. I'm a creature of spontaneity. And why can't everyone else be like that too? I'm sure it would spread out evenly and we would all be able to get what we wanted, when we wanted.
If you want a great time, leave it until the last minute.
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