Valentine's Day again. Today in the land of retail, loved-up people in a frenzy of last-minute madness bought all the shit cards we had left and frantically tried to decide between the chocolate nipples and the chocolate willies. The manager of a restaurant around the corner who is sleazy beyond words, bought a card that says 'good in bed' on it, winked at me and told me to have a good night . I thought, any night without him winking at me would be a great night. Some poor person, ie: the recipient of the card, is not going to be so lucky. My last customer of the day was a lady on the phone, irrate because she thought we'd over-charged her for a card - she demanded we refund the two pounds and money for parking and petrol to come get the two pounds. And I was thinking, 'where is the love, people? Where is the goddamn love?' Obviously whoever she was buying the card for was not worth an extra two pounds. Happy Valentine's Day, Madam - do call again soon. At least she has someone to be overcharged whilst buying a card for - you can't put a price on that. After work I made my solitary way back through the evening streets - couples setting out for their romantic meals push me off the pavement into the road, smelling of perfume and freshly washed hair, single red roses in hands, excitement in eyes. On the bus I have to stand, a woman with a heart-shaped helium balloon was unaware that it was hitting me in the face everytime the bus bounced slightly. And so it is, over for another year. Thank God.