Showing posts with label Valentine's Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Valentine's Day. Show all posts

Saturday, 14 February 2026

Happy to have, not to have not

"Saint Valentine used to be the patron saint of lovers, now he seems to be the patron saint of card makers." Edward Stilliard

Yup. "St Hallmark's Day" is upon us - a day that sees hordes of chavs clogging the supermarket queues to buy bunches of red flowers that look like the sort of thing tied to some railings where a cyclist got killed; the only day in the calendar that such horrors as rose-scented chocolates are ever a "thing", and when sales of made-in-China fluffy toys with sickly "love" slogans go up.

John Lydon has the right idea:

My sentiments, exactly.

Friday, 14 February 2025

You got to know that that will never do

Yes, dear reader, "St. Hallmark's Day" is upon us once again. The shops have been groaning under the strain of pink-and-red-themed items - cards, balloons, flowers, chocolates, bubbly; even a prawn medley (how seductive!) - since before our holiday, in the hope that the cash registers will be pinging as lovelorn chavs queue to buy gifts for their beau. Bleurrcchh! All this commercialisation makes me sick.

Never mind, eh? I may still be on leave, but as is traditional at the end of any week [and this is indeed the last weekend for me before the daily grind begins all over again], it's time to start planning that party!

Here's something - ahem - suitably romantic for the occasion:

Thank Disco It's Friday!

Have a great one, folks!

Tuesday, 14 February 2023

All just a little bit of history...

It may be St Valentine's St Hallmark's Day today [I steadfastly ignore that cynically commercialised rubbish], but it is also LGBT+ History Month here in the UK, and, as ever, Camden and Islington LGBT Forum (nowadays calling itself "Forum+") has put together a wide-ranging itinerary of events...

We've already missed some interesting (and bizarre) things while we were in Spain - wouldya believe someone actually produced a show called Alan Turing The Musical?! - such as several gay history walking trails, a talk at the British Library intriguingly called The Further Queer Adventures of Alexander the Great: Boyfriend, Activist and Porn Star, and some special themed nights at gay venues Central Station at King's Cross and Zodiac in Camden.

Coming up are a talk about the closeted gay American poet Walt Whitman [never liked his work, so won't be going to that], a weird-sounding "narrative cabaret" work called Wild Onion [that doesn't appeal, either, tbh], more walking trails, a tour of the new Queer Britain Museum behind St Pancras station [which we've not visited since it opened last year, but will one day], a creative writing workshop, an event at the British Library focusing on the BBC documentary The Story of Aids: the Unheard Tapes [which sounds a bit depressing], a discussion of a "forgotten queer classic" historical novel about the fascinating "Ladies of Llangollen" [online-only, more's the pity, and as I spend my life at work on Teams meetings I shan't be rushing to sit at home and watch that] and the annual LGBTQ+ Film Day at The British Museum which features Derek Jarman's The Tempest [unfortunately it clashes with our gang's get-together for a late celebration of The Madam's birthday].

Here in Haringey, things a little more "low-key". There are, however, some events [that we will surely miss] such as poetry readings, a screening of Call Me By Your Name at a library in Crouch End, and what might have been the most interesting, a discussion on curating LGBT+ oral and film histories at the Bruce Castle Museum, a place I have never visited, despite the fact it's only a short bus ride from Wood Green [but that, too, is on the same day as the "gathering of the clans"].

Here at Dolores Delargo Towers, of course, I/we have always been fascinated by LGBT history, so much so that I "curate" my very own "Museum of Camp", which has, over the years featured many and varied stories of the people and events that shaped our narrative - not least today's "exhibit" Richard "Dickie" Colley!

Here's something appropriate for today - that true pioneer of gay cabaret, the peerless Douglas Byng, in 1932

Sublime.

Sunday, 14 February 2021

A bourgeois construct

Everything on the radio today is slush, mush and faux-sentiment, so here's something I posted five years ago that is every bit as relevant for today:

Today is "St Hallmark's Day": the only day in the year when grown men are seen buying anything in pink, covered with hearts and teddy-bears, and the shit poetry and laquer-sprayed-flower industries rub their hands with glee.

In my usual cynical manner, here's a contribution - courtesy of the Pet Shop Boys:

I've been taking my time for a long time
Putting my feet up a lot
Speaking English as a foreign language
any words that I haven't forgot
I've been thinking how I can't be bothered
to wash the dishes or remake the bed
What's the point when I could doss instead?

I've been hanging out with various riff-raff
somewhere on the Goldhawk Road
I don't think it's gonna be much longer
'til I'm mugging up on the penal code
Love is a bourgeois construct
so I've given up on the bourgeoisie
Like all their aspirations, it's a fantasy

When you walked out you did me a favour
you made me see reality
that love is a bourgeois construct
It's a blatant fallacy
You won't see me with a bunch of roses
promising fidelity
Love doesn't mean a thing to me

Talking tough and feeling bitter
but better now it's clear to me
that love is a bourgeois construct
so I've given up the bourgeoisie

While the bankers all get their bonuses
I'll just get along with what I've got
Watching the weeds in the garden
Putting my feet up a lot
I'll explore the outer limits of boredom
moaning periodically
Just a full-time, lonely layabout
that's me

When you walked out you did me a favour
It's absolutely clear to me
that love is a bourgeois construct
just like they said at university
I'll be taking my time for a long time
with all the Schadenfreude it's cost
calculating what you've lost

Now I'm digging through my student paperbacks
Flicking through Karl Marx again
Searching for the soul of England
Drinking tea like Tony Benn
Love is just a bourgeois construct
so I'm giving up the bourgeoisie
until you come back to me

Talking tough and feeling bitter
but better now it's clear to me
that love is a bourgeois construct
so I've given up the bourgeoisie

Indeed.

Friday, 14 February 2020

Hearts and... peanut butter jelly?


[click to embiggen]

Groan. "St Hallmark's Day" is upon us. Cheap bouquets, oversized teddies, Love Island boxed scent'n'shower-gel sets from Savers - all will no doubt be flying off the shelves.

Bollocks to all that, I say - when I go shopping I want THIS to happen!


Thank Disco It's Friday! - and don't bother trying to book a table at Pizza Express...

Thursday, 14 February 2019

Amor, amor, amor


It's Tapas, apparently, not a token of - ahem - love.

Ho hum. "St Hallmark's Day" is upon us - a day that sees hordes of bedraggled yoof buying equally bedraggled bunches of red flowers and clogging the supermarket queues, the only day in the calendar that such horrors as rose-scented chocolates are ever a "thing", and when sales of made-in-China fluffy toys with sickly "love" slogans go up.

I have always hated it, needless to say [see here and here for previous rants].

However, I have found an (hilariously) appropriate song to add to our countdown to Spain, which complements the mood perfectly...


I hope you have a tear in your eye after that one [from laughing, most likely!].

Saturday, 14 February 2015

You won't see me with a bunch of roses, promising fidelity



Today is "St Hallmark's Day": the only day in the year when grown men are seen buying anything in pink, covered with hearts and teddy-bears, and the shit poetry and laquer-sprayed-flower industries rub their hands with glee.

In my usual cynical manner, here's a contribution - courtesy of the Pet Shop Boys:


I've been taking my time for a long time
Putting my feet up a lot
Speaking English as a foreign language
any words that I haven't forgot
I've been thinking how I can't be bothered
to wash the dishes or remake the bed
What's the point when I could doss instead?

I've been hanging out with various riff-raff
somewhere on the Goldhawk Road
I don't think it's gonna be much longer
'til I'm mugging up on the penal code
Love is a bourgeois construct
so I've given up on the bourgeoisie
Like all their aspirations, it's a fantasy

When you walked out you did me a favour
you made me see reality
that love is a bourgeois construct
It's a blatant fallacy
You won't see me with a bunch of roses
promising fidelity
Love doesn't mean a thing to me

Talking tough and feeling bitter
but better now it's clear to me
that love is a bourgeois construct
so I've given up the bourgeoisie

While the bankers all get their bonuses
I'll just get along with what I've got
Watching the weeds in the garden
Putting my feet up a lot
I'll explore the outer limits of boredom
moaning periodically
Just a full-time, lonely layabout
that's me

When you walked out you did me a favour
It's absolutely clear to me
that love is a bourgeois construct
just like they said at university
I'll be taking my time for a long time
with all the Schadenfreude it's cost
calculating what you've lost

Now I'm digging through my student paperbacks
Flicking through Karl Marx again
Searching for the soul of England
Drinking tea like Tony Benn
Love is just a bourgeois construct
so I'm giving up the bourgeoisie
until you come back to me

Talking tough and feeling bitter
but better now it's clear to me
that love is a bourgeois construct
so I've given up the bourgeoisie


Indeed.

Thursday, 14 February 2008

St Hallmark's Day

"Saint Valentine used to be the patron saint of lovers, now he seems to be the patron saint of card makers." Edward Stilliard

As it is apparently Valentines Day I thought this John Lydon classic might be appropriate:


I mean, what is the point of setting aside one day in the year to make childish people in lovey-dovey new relationships feel smug, people without a love in their life feel sad, and those of us with a more realistic view on life feel sick at the sight of (yet another) bunch of wilting overpriced red roses, or "cute" teddy bear with "I Wuv You" emblazoned across its slave-labour-manufactured chest?