With CBeebies already sorting me out for Valentine’s Day by scheduling in Tom Hardy to read me a bedtime story at 6:45 on Feb 14th, I’ve asked Husbanana to buy 5 Syrian kiddlings a fleecey blanket as a valentine’s gift instead. 

I didn’t tell him about Tom, because he’s a sensitive soul and it might make him upset and/or make him question my real motives for getting into Peaky Blinders and/or think he needs to grow his beard longer, don a flat cap and read me a children’s story to initiate love making which is a road I really don’t want to go down. But more importantly he won’t be home in time to know about it anyway. He’ll just find me a little more flushed and happy than I usually am at that stage in the kids’ bedtime routine when he returns. But unless I’m also reading a copy of Ultra Light Camping Monthly or What’s New in Goretex Weekly or similar, the probability that he’ll even notice any change in my general appearance is tinier than the width of a gnat’s willy-peanuts (engineering term (of a 5 year old).

Anyway, I’ve drifted slightly from the point, which is, fuck me this girl looks chilly doesn’t she? Let’s buy her a blanket so our love can keep her warm this Valentines Day.