With a lifetime of hard earned experience behind her, Granny generously shares the wisdom she has gleaned over eight decades. So pin back your ears and bloody well listen!
St Valentine’s Day…
Ah, that bitchfest in the name of lerv. That commercialisation of affection. That show the world how perfect your relationship is. That Gw***** P*****w of festivals.
In case you hadn’t guessed, Granny really don’t approve.
When I was a gel, your boyfriend sent you a card he had bought in Woolworths and probably forgot to take the price ticket off of. You showed it to your mum and your best friend and put it in a box with all your souvenirs. End of. And if nobody sent, well only you and your mum and your best friend knew. No real harm done – unless your best friend was a bitch.
Nowadays nothing is that simple. Today you have to Instagram the card, the flowers, the jewels, the wine, the food, the guy, the naughty underwear…
Stop it. For the love of sanity. Do. Not. Do. It.
But. Given that it will occur and every halfwit on the planet will be posting the biggest lie they can concoct…
Here’s the plan.
Buy yourself a bouquet of something pretty. Photograph it. Post it on all your social media with no explanation.
When somebody is rude enough to ask simply say the flowers were from your greatest admirer. Truth. And. Sorted…
Advice for chaps. If you are from the side of the room with dangly bits and facial hair the advice to you is Do Not Forget. Your life may depend on it… also a large present and a suitably soppy card can result in the sort of sexual favours you have only dreamed of.
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