It's a dogs life

This is how we watch TV now. For a dog who's spent his life in a kennel, he’s taken to being a lap dog like a pro. The moment my PJs are on and the TV’s switched on, he’s there—nose on my lap, big puppy-dog eyes, waiting for his invite onto the sofa. And once he’s up, he’s not moving… unless he gets too warm, in which case he’ll gracefully ooze onto the floor like a melted candle.

Now, onto my rant: Valentine’s Day. It’s not that I’m old and cynical (well, maybe a little), but we’ve never bothered with it—it’s just pointless. While in the supermarket, I witnessed the annual parade of reluctant men shuffling through the card aisle. Some looked bored out of their minds, some were clearly there under duress, and others were weighing up whether spending extra on flowers might increase their chances of getting lucky later. Meanwhile, I didn’t see a single woman panic-buying roses for her bloke. Why are we expected to cram all our romantic gestures into one overpriced, overhyped day?