My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose

You can almost hear the coffers of the greeting card manufacturers and the local filling stations jingling as the romantic males of the species rush out to buy a card and perhaps some red roses for the lady or even ladies in their lives.

This is one day of the year when they do not like to be found wanting if they know what's good for them. We all know it's a con, but we all do it (well most of us ) because it seems to be the done thing, making sure we sign our names lest our partner imagines they have a secret admirer.
Can you remember the heady excitement of receiving anonymous cards and the thrill of trying to guess the identity of the love sick swains?

Reciprocal cards were exchanged in the Dower House this morning but no red roses. This rose was in a bouquet given to us last week by His Lordship's Goddaughter.

However we are dining out in some style tonight, when we will sit across a candle lit table and gaze into each other's eyes while murmuring sweet asides such as, 'service is slow tonight, what are you ordering, or that's a pretty waitress'.
It was not always thus when the blood was thicker and redder!