Valentine's Day We are not a romantic nation. So we have Valentine's Day to remind us to be romantic once a year. Our lack of romance is partly due to our culture and climate. The continental man can take his lover to an outdoor restaurant, flatter her, go to the opera, and walk her back to the hotel under the warm stars. The Englishman will suggest fish and chips and a Manchester United video, and walk her to the pub through the drizzle. The ancients believed that birds started mating on 14 February. On that day, the Romans had a big nude party involving fertility rites. Later, 14 February was coincidentally named after Valentine. He was a Roman Catholic saint, and so never went to any nude parties involving fertility rites. In England we were too embarrassed for such parties. Or perhaps it was just too cold at that time of year. So in the 1300s, nervous young men would pair up on 14 February with women whose names were drawn from a box at random. It was a kind of o-miai system, but with only one meeting per year. No wonder the population of England was so small. Today, Valentine's Day has two purposes. If you fancy someone but are too shy to let them know, this day is good: it gives you the opportunity to send them a card or flowers. If you are married, this day is bad: you have to give your partner a card or flowers. But no tradition in England is logical. When we send cards or flowers on Valentine's Day, it must be done anonymously. You can put nothing at all, or perhaps a cryptic '?', but not names. You can write a message, but if handwritten, it must be disguised. The problems with this system are obvious. You find, to your delight, that you have a secret admirer. But you don't know who they are. Even if you guess who it might be, it will be next year before you can send a card or flowers to them - when they might not realise it was from you. To complicate things further you can send more than one card, even to the same person. This strange psychological game goes on. Suppose a young man has sent a card and large bunch of roses to a girl in the same office. He checks with the florist - yes, they were delivered. At coffee break, he wanders casually over to her. Him: 'So... any Valentine's cards today'? Her: 'Two.' Him: 'Two?!? Oh... any idea who they're from?' Her: 'Oh yes.' Him: 'Any flowers?' Her: 'No.' Him: '?!... er, well, I received some...' Of course he didn't get any flowers. And she only received the one card, and did indeed get his flowers. And she guessed they were from him. But she bluffs him to see his reaction. He bluffs back. Both want to preserve the mystery a while - until next year, maybe. (We are slow at seduction. We prefer intellectual games to action. That is why we invent so many sports, and then lose to the rest of the world at them.) So those are the rules. Here is a list of the equipment you might use in the Valentine's Day game. Cards Always anonymous. Sent by men to women, or women to men. (Sometimes men send to men for mischief, and women send to women thinking this 'secret admirer' will cheer them up.) Sent by mail is OK, but more mysterious if hand-delivered. Especially good if the card magically appears on one's desk or doormat, or (very dramatic) under the windscreen wiper. Language of cards: Large, lurid scarlets, enormous hearts, expensive, but cheap-looking design - man to mistress Medium sized, nondescript design, overpriced - man to wife Small, intimate, classy design - woman to man Hand-made - woman to man, or artistic man to woman; sign of great pent-up passion None - overworked man who forgot completely to buy his wife one, then finds to his horror that she has a hand-made one on the mantelpiece and thanks him profusely for it, and that the interior decorator has been looking very furtive Flowers Men to women only (women to men is rare even nowadays). Always anonymous. Sent by hand is OK, but much better is when they are delivered and signed for with great fuss by some delivery-man so the whole office/school etc. can see. Language of flowers: Red roses - passion White roses - admiration Daffodils - the cheapest ones from the flower stall by the train station Large elegant mixed bunch - total commitment, because I remembered in advance Small, dismal mixed bunch wrapped in silver foil - I forgot completely and had to buy this horribly expensive thing from the petrol station on the way home Candlelit dinners If booked in advance, usually with a great deal of hinting from the woman, a wonderful treat. Most restaurants do Valentine specials. Flower sellers wander the tables and try to flog roses to dining couples at inflated prices. The very well prepared man makes sure his woman is already carrying a large bunch, which makes both feel very superior. Men who have forgotten even to buy a bunch of flowers from the petrol station have this as their last chance. 'Let's go out for a romantic candlelit dinner!' But of course, all the restaurants were booked up weeks ago. The luckless couple end up with fish and chips and a Manchester United video. Surprise holidays The best of all. Usually for established couples, but a daring challenge for new relationships. The man whisks away the woman for a weekend in Paris or Rome. A complete surprise, of course, and all the man's idea - but the woman helped inspire him by leaving holiday brochures, newspaper clippings and magazine articles around the place for two months beforehand, and leaving the calendar prominently blank for that weekend. Like everything else in Britain, we love spontaneity on Valentine's Day. So long as it is annual and planned well in advance.

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