My darling wife, you will have noticed the droplets of moisture dappling the table around your beautifully wrapped box of chocolates this morning. You will no doubt be imagining my high dive from gargantuan sea cliffs into the foaming ocean below and my desperate doggy-paddle against the ferocious waves to reach the pristine lines of the white yacht whereupon you were languorously awaiting the arrival of your assorted soft centres from Thornton’s. These droplets are actually evidence of the sneezing fit that overtook me shortly after my arrival due to the man-cold that has plagued me for the last week or so. I hope they will not diminish the pleasure you will get from consuming these wonderful chocolates.
You will also have noticed the specs of blood upon the envelope of your Valentine’s Day card. These are not, as you might think, the residue of a desperate fight to the death with suicidal ninjas who to a man wielded Hattori Hanzo blades that had been folded 1400 times and sharpened with the beaks of sea turtles in a bid to prevent me from delivering my Valentine’s Day gifts to you. They are the remains of a nose bleed that befell me after I tried to clear my sinuses for the umpteenth time with a 3-ply sheet of the finest Kleenex.
And that mud on the carpet that you can’t fail to have spied is not, alas, proof of my foolhardy sprint through a freshly lane minefield, my bloody crawl through barbed wire and my swim through crocodile infested sewer pipes as I attempted to reach the shops in order to buy you that DVD that you’ve always wanted. It is mud from the grass verge down the road where, head spinning and nose streaming, I temporarily lost my balance and stumbled in the rain and got myself plastered in Leamington clay.
And those red roses, a dozen of them, were not snatched from an enchanted forest guarded by belligerent dragons that spat acid and breathed fire, but were paid for upfront at a local florist guarded by a little old lady with bifocals and a perm who wore fingerless mittens against the February cold and operated her PIN machine with great aplomb whilst ignoring my constant sniffing.
My darling wife, I may not be the man in black, James Bond or Jason Bourne, but I am more than willing to battle the vagaries of man-flu just to prove my undying love for you.
Surely there can be no higher sacrifice?
Happy Valentine’s Day, my sweet!
P.S. Please save the coffee centres for me.
Ahh, I'm sure Mrs Steve loved and cherished them just the same. The Husband and I don't 'do' Valentine's Day anymore although in our first flushes of young love I got up early and baked (and don't forget I don't bake) heart shaped cakes for him, then stole up to his house and left them on the doorstep at 6am. Around 6.15am it started to rain. Around 7.15am, on exiting his house, he trod squarely on the box of by now soggy cakes, slipped and sprained his ankle. He was neither pleased nor grateful for my early morning endeavours.
Wylye Girl: *sniff* That brought a tear to my eye, that did... as I'm sure it did your husband's too...
Coffee centres are cack in my opinion so I'd be delighted if you were my husband as I could keep the rest for myself.
Soppy bugger! What colour were the fingerless mittens? it might have been me....oh wait,I wear varifocals!
Trish: you're a pragmatist. I can tell.
Nana Go-Go: to be honest my eyes were watering that much she could have been wearing a monocle...
I have suggested to Mr. Fly that he read your post in order to follow your shining example....
The fly in the web: tell him the man-flu doesn't come fitted as standard.
To be honest was it worth all the hassle?
I know we men seriously over dramatise the merest attack of man flu but this sets a new record in the annuals of hyperbole.
Next time you have a bout of the dreaded bug, if it's near Christmas, Birthday, Wedding Anniversary, Valentines Day or any other cause for celebration, just go to bed and let the misses get on with the preparations. In the long run it'll save her so much extra housework.
Aw Lovely! So there is soft centre to you after all, ( and I agree with Trish - coffee - yeah take mine too)
Enjoy your day :)
Divorce time methinks.
No hero in the offing and cannot even keep his bodily fluids from contaminating the chocolates.
Plus Thorntons are sickly sweet, unless you went for the Eden box which is just about edible.
Though of course you redeem yourself slightly by liking the coffee centres (ugh!)
You are a big soft centre, go on admit it.
Marginalia: have you sold your romantic soul in some kind of faustian pact?
Suzanne: please send all your coffee chocolates my way - I'll be happy to dispose of them.
Laura: you is one high maintenance babe.
Löst Jimmy: beneath my hard and polished exterior I smell and taste of coffee.
Yep we don't do Valentines day anymore and coffee centres are cack. Your efforts are laudable though Steve...bet Mrs Steve was pleased.
ps I'm not complaining about not doing Valentines day though..we have been together for 30 years and have certainly had our moments....and as he's taking me to the pictures to see Never let me go tonight, then all seems to be well...ahem.....
Have to admit to laughing out loud at paragraph 3! Sorry
Blood, snot and mud - what more could a girl ask for Mr Milk Tray...you can have all the coffee, strawberry and orange creams just keep your hands off the caramel coated hazelnuts!
Libby: a trip to the cinema is a worthy treat on any occasion.
Suburbia: I always figured I was more Jason Manford than Jason Bourne... this confirms it.
MMM: you're welcome to help yourself to my nuts. But you may have to fight my wife for the privilege.
OK, time out!
Steve and MMM find yourselves a quiet place to go all nuts over each other.
Marginalia: you have a dirty mind. When I hear words like "time out" and "nuts" I think of chocolate and chocolate bars.
Milk Tray...I think more like "Denim" after all like the man says, you dont have to try too hard!
Perhaps a bag of revels would have been a safer option?
Joe: Perhaps a bag of revels would have been a safer option? - Not since they started putting curranty ones in the packets... bleurgh!
Shedding your blood for your beloved is quite romantic, even if it was only a nosebleed. How about upping your game to a fight with a hedgehog next year? I believe they like chocolates.
Gorilla Bananas: I'm scared of the little pricks.
Funny that...the Thorton's thing. I was in the process of wrapping up a small box of them earlier, but I just couldnt complete the task without sampling one...which thus became all of them.
So to avoid serious injury by not giving her anything at all, I wrapped up the Tv remote control instead and presented it to her on my knees with a choccy wrapper between my lips.
I'm now lying here alone, on my back with my legs in the air, praying for the doctor to arrive very soon. I just hope he's got a good torch to illuminate the bodily recess where the remote control device is now deeply buried.
Cos the footy's coming on tv later and I'm worried I won't be able to change channels...
Phil: if you try diaphragmatic breathing or pelvic floor exercises you may find you can change the TV channel without removing the device. P.S. You may need to adjust the alignment of your buttocks with the television.
Valiant post, Steve!
Amanda: I'm a proper little soldier, I am.
LOL's!!...re:"..if you try diaphragmatic breathing or pelvic floor exercises.."
Yeahhh...thanks for nothing Stevie baby - 'mate' - I just tried some of that 'diaphragmatic' crap, an it's now permanently stuck on Coronation Street at 'full' volume.
I you've got any other 'ingenous ideas' this evening...you know where you can stick em.
P.S. Can someone pleease record the footy for me?!
I'll send you a big box of Thornton's.
Phil: bollocks. You'll eat them before they even get inside the wrapping paper. I know what you're like.
From bad to worse here I’m afraid.
I persevered with the diaphrapmatic’s thing for a while – well I had nothing better to do – and I so loath ‘Corry Street’ Steve, I can’t tell you – and so I aligned my buttocks with the television as – “you said” – then I felt the warnings of a sneeze coming on…a real biggy too!
The good news is - the remote control device has…‘left the building’.
The bad news is…it went right through the Tv screen on it’s way out.
Not a happy bunny wunny.
Phil: this would never have happened with a home cinema kit.
Oh Steve. You old romantic.
....Her perm wore fingerless mittens??
Ah man flu, but is there anything worse to battle - I think not. You brave, strong man for managing to do anything at all, suffering from such hardship. * note sarcasm *
Loved this post x
Simponslover (I know who you are now): it was a very cold morning...
Bigwords is: what sarcasm? Nope. Can't find it. I know you're being genuine.
Nothing can go amiss, when simpleness and duty tender it.
There are currants in Revels now ? I am so out of touch.
Oh you old romantic devil- nothing says love quite like a snot-trailed box of Chocs.
oh you poor, poor thing you, having to battle the sniffles and the nice old lady at the flower shop. My hero *swoon*
Keith: currants or raisins. Either way they are a corrupting influence. Yuck.
Very Bored in Catalunya: bless you! Please pass the Vic's vapour rub.
Heather: you're being sarcastic, aren't you?
Ooooh, so sweet! Behind that cool apprearance, you are still a true romantic, aren't you? Hope you both had a lovely evening in spite of your cold....Ciao. A.
Lunarossa: a cool appearance? I don't think anybody has ever described me as having that before! Thank you!
Who says romance is dead?
Rol: you just got to know how to work it.
See now *that* is true love!
Livi: forget slaying dragons, slaying headcolds is where it's at. ;-)
Oh, to have received a letter one-tenth as charming as this one in my lifetime!
Heck, the letter alone was a gift to outshine the gods...lucky wife of Steve.
The Crow: you'll give me a big head.
You old softie. Mind you coffee chocolates- urghh!
Ah, what more could a woman ask for .....except perhaps the chocolates covered with snot??!
But the sentiment is ....uhmm... beautiful, and so ... heroic, you being so close to death's door and all !!
Selina: there was a moment or two when I thought I might not make it, I must admit...
Lovely idea, those choccies. But... were the snotdrops on the choccies themselves? If so...
Val: no - I licked them all off before I gave them to my wife.
Where's mine? Eh? Eh? Tsk.
And don't tell me the dog ate them.
LCM: remember that tapping at your bedroom window Monday night? That was me... you didn't let me in so I ate the chocolates myself.
Personally, I think you could have put a bit more effort into it. Really. The local florist? Why didn't you go to the florist two towns over who has livlier blooms?
Readily A Parent: typical woman. Never satisfied.
Awwwwww...that was so sweet. You are such a good husband.
And now I fee like drowning myself in a vat of chocolate that I didn't get from my husband for V-day. Mostly because he is a little bit of a holiday scrooge. But that's okay. He gives me roses on other days that I'm quite sure he has to wrestle from 3-headed fire breathing dragons.
Organic Motherhood with Cool Whip: a vat of chocolate would be an awesome present on any occasion.
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