Who's The Daddy: Love, money and the madness of Valentine’s

Me and The Boss have always more or less ignored it, her reasoning being that if you want to take her out for dinner or buy her flowers, why wait until February 14? Do it any day you like.

A respectful exchange of cards and a firm handshake has always just about covered it. Although even that has landed yours truly in hot water in the past.

Back when our daughters were toddlers, one February 13 night in the early Noughties The Boss called me at work to ask if I could get a couple of Valentine’s cards for the kids on the way home from a late shift at the paper.

So I called in at a Spar, and thinking nothing of it, chose two cutesy cards at random, put them on the counter, only to be met with the deepest look of pure disgust I’ve ever had from a woman that I wasn’t in a long-term relationship with.

It was only when I got home and told The Boss what happened that the penny dropped. That cashier thought I had two women on the go, and that I thought so little of them both that I rocked up at a convenience store, a few minutes before closing on the night before Valentine’s, and bought them both a “will this do?” card at the same time. It’s weird what you remember, isn’t it?

The cynical, middle-aged tight-arse that I am, people who go all out on Valentine’s are the same type who are prone to blowing what would be a sizeable deposit on a house on a wedding. An act of terminal stupidity which makes my blood run cold.

Our daughters have already been told, when the time comes, that we’ll chip in a hefty chunk for their house deposit, but if they want to spaff tens of thousands on a wedding (which, don’t forget, is just one day) then they’re on their own. More or less. We’ll cough up a bit, but we’re not bankrolling an episode of Bridgerton at some castle with its own lake.

Speaking of children, which is what this column is supposed to be about, Daughter #2 is due home in a month from her third tour of duty on the world’s biggest cruise ship, which sails around the Caribbean with around 7,600 passengers and 2,350 crew, where she spends her time at work entertaining mainly American kids.

She FaceTimed us last Sunday for a catch up, with a clear blue sky in the background, while we’ve spent all winter dodging freezing rain that hammers down like arrows fired by a tooled-up army on a medieval castle under siege.

It’s fair to say that she’s quite taken to the life of living in a bubble where there’s no rent, transport costs are zero, you can eat what you like whenever you want from the very lovely staff restaurant for free and all your friends live a just a few cabins away. Oh, and apart from hurricane season, it’s generally hot and sunny all day.

Daughter #2 is due her next contract offer at the end of this month. I’m guessing she’ll sign it.

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