BLOOMING DEAR

This year I went a bit overboard for Valentine's Day. In truth, I needed a few 'Brownie points'.

A small fortune secured a bouquet of mixed flowers with a centrepiece of a red rose  with a diamante heart in the middle together with a box of the finest Belgian chocolates. I arranged for this to be delivered to my wife's workplace as a total surprise. 

Before you get too impressed at my loving gesture let me point out that the reason this was such a surprise is that I don't normally do more than a card.

But I was wondering ... why red roses specifically? Well it seems that red roses are a symbol of romantic love, synonymous with passion and romance. For this reason, the red rose is often called “the lover’s rose.”

Red roses are usually given as a gift to loved ones as a romantic gesture or “just because”, to let them know that someone cares about them.

Apparently there are different meanings associated with the various red shades of  roses too. Deep red roses (the most common gift) are usually associated with lovers. A bright red shade is a symbol of passion. If the roses are cardinal red they signify desire.

The age of red roses can also symbolise various things. Red rose buds that are as yet unopened are often used to signify love in its early stages or the beginning of a relationship. Fully open red roses however, are a symbol of a lasting firmly established relationship.

Anyway, my gesture was much appreciated and my Brownie point balance is now in a very healthy state. I wish I could say the same of my bank balance.

DARLING, LET'S MAKE OXYTOCIN

Not for the first time and certainly not for the last time, I discover that my aged brain is lacking in knowledge. 

In case your own brain has a similar problem let me enlighten you.

I have discovered that when I was recently enjoying hugs and cuddles with my granddaughter, I was actually making oxytocin.

Furthermore, we can also make it by shaking hands with a friend, stroking a pet or even thinking about a loved one.

It is known as the 'love molecule' and is basically a love potion which is released from our brains when we feel kindly and loving. 

Scientists claim that it greatly helps with mother-child bonding, assists with healing and pain-relief, fights obesity, is an antidepressant and reduces stress levels...and its free!

You could also try to impress your partner by suggesting 'let's make oxytocin' before they have time to develop a headache.

THE TIME THIEF

I hold you in my arms looking down at your sleeping form. I hear your soft breathing and gently stroke your hand. Even though you are asleep, your fingers close around mine. Your skin is soft and warm.

I gaze at your beauty and not for the first time I am in awe at your perfection. You stir and move. Will you wake? No, you allow me a little longer to look and admire.

Eventually your eyes open but only a little. I smile. You return the smile and I wait patiently for your eyes to open fully.

When they do, we examine each other's faces for a while. I think to stand up and discover that two hours have passed without me noticing. Two hours spent doing nothing. Nothing but love.

Along with my heart you have stolen two hours of my life but I am the richer for it. Though I am two hours older, I feel years younger, for whilst I held you, the years fell away and my thoughts returned to the warm summers of my youth.

You are the time thief.

You are Emily...

...and you are seven weeks old today.

 

 

 

FEEL THE LOVE

I suppose if one thinks of love poetry, then Keats or Shelley come to mind. But they are long gone. Who would you say has taken their place?

Just like the daisy which goes unnoticed as it is trampled on, sometimes beauty is found right under our feet. I give you the words of Don Black:

Tell me on a Sunday

"Don't write a letter when you want to leave

Don't call me at 3 a.m. from a friend's apartment

I'd like to choose how I hear the news.

Take me to a park that's covered with trees

Tell me on a Sunday - please

Let me down easy, n

o big song and dance

No long faces, no long looks

No deep conversation.

I know the way we should spend that day

Take me to a zoo that's got chimpanzees.

Tell me on a

Sunday - please

Don't want to know who's to blame

It won't help knowing.

Don't want to fight day and night

Bad enough you're going.

Don't leave in silence with no word at all

Don't get drunk and slam the door.

That's no way to end this.

I know how I want you to say goodbye

Find a circus ring with a flying trapeze.

Tell me on a Sunday - please

Don't run off in the pouring rain

Don't call me as they call your plane.

Take the hurt out of all the pain.

Take me to a park that's covered with trees.

Tell me on a Sunday - please"

In my humble opinion this is one of the greatest of modern love poems and when you add Lloyd Webber's music it simply transports the senses. Enjoy!

HOW TO AVOID A BROKEN HEART

It's Valentine's day so you'll be wanting to hear all about this amorous Saint and why we have this special day for him. Well sorry to disappoint you but no-one seems to know much about the fellow. Instead, let me issue you with a few caveats.

Firstly, if your husband (or wife) receives a Valentine card from someone other than yourself signed 'guess who?', before you start looking up the number of your nearest divorce lawyer, check that the lawyer didn't send it to drum up some business.

I would also urge you not to follow in the footsteps of an Austrian gentleman named Hannes Pisek who so loved his girlfriend that he arranged 220 candles in the shape of a heart on the floor of their flat. He then lit them and went to collect her from work. As you may have anticipated, they returned to a blazing inferno and his girlfriend left him and went back to live with her parents.

Finally ladies, next leap year I should avoid copying the lady who intending to propose to her boyfriend, cooked him his favourite meal (which was toad-in-the-hole) and hid the engagement ring under one of the sausages. He found the ring alright and pulled it out of his mouth together with a large piece of broken tooth. This story has a happy ending though since they are now happily married.

Roses are red, violets are lime,

They need to be so I can get this to rhyme.

A POEM WHAT I WROTE

One of my pet hates is door-to-door sellers. Usually it's 'I represent Sparky Electricity. Have you checked your power bills lately?' I hate it when they have learning difficulties or are disabled. It makes it almost impossible to say no when they offer their cheap household goods which you wouldn't dream of buying in a shop.

Occasionally, you get the scary ones. The gypsies selling pegs or offering to sharpen knives. Then you worry whether you will be cursed if you don't comply and will spend the rest of your life doomed, never to win the lottery or meet your frog prince.

One pleasant exception though, many years ago, was a young student who was selling her art. She held up a canvas of a forest scene and it was clear that she had a talent. I succumbed and looked through her other paintings. My eyes lit up when I came upon a seascape, because I am a sucker for water in paintings. I bought it of course and it has pride of place on my study wall.

This preamble is only to set the scene for my experience yesterday morning when the muse came tapping at my shoulder like a salesman offering his wares. I'd been reading a piece about Keats ('How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.....') and here was the muse tempting me with the thought of writing a love poem. My natural lethargy tried to fight him off but then the intrigue kicked in. How hard can it be? What a fatal question that is!

So here is my love poem. Treat it gently, for it is entwined with my soul.

The world is the better that you are in it.
No less is my life for your presence at its heart.

My actions are referenced to you my love
and my thoughts are governed by your nearness.

Let it ever be so.