Dearest Albert

I have a new love in my life. Here he is:

Oh wait. That's not exactly right. I was thinking more along these lines:

Ah... much better.

You may have guessed that I've just got back from watching The Young Victoria at the cinema. It's a fairly standard costume drama - the type that I love - but rather heavy on the romance - which I don't usually love. But Prince Albert here won me over. Apparently he's actually some actor sort; goes by the name Rupert Friend, but seeing as there's no way on earth that Mr Friend could ever match up to the lovely Prince Consort, he'll always be Albert to me. Sigh.

My funny Valentine

Valentine's Day tomorrow. Woop-de-doo. Can you tell that I'm single?

To be honest I take issue with the whole thing anyway but I promise that what follows is not some sort of bitter rant! No doubt I could deliver one if I so desired but I think it important that I do not indulge that side of myself!

Valentine's Day is the day when we are all told to be romantic. If we're told to be romantic, doesn't that rather negate the romance? Surely the romance of something is largely in the spontaneity of it? Who feels truly special when their other half buys them flowers or chocolates on Valentine's Day? It would be much better were they to choose some other day to express their love. Romance just isn't the same if it's been instigated by Clinton's Cards.

Of course I speak from vast experience. Ahem.

I'm in that strange position at the moment of not wanting to be in a relationship (too much hassle, demands on my time etc.) but wanting to know that there is one waiting somewhere around the corner for me. I have this recurring nightmare that I'm going to end up in a nursing home at 50 years old because my parents have kicked the bucket and I'm still not well enough to look after myself. A husband would solve that particular worry. From what I can gather, good husbands are pretty thin on the ground these days anyway and my (not self-imposed) stringent criteria aren't going to make finding one any easier.

Firstly, I'm a Christian and and the Bible tells me that I should only be going out with a guy that shares my beliefs. Wow - that pool of potential hubbys just shrunk quickly! Secondly, the chap needs to be able to deal with my illness (a lot easier said that done). Thirdly, somehow I'm going to have to come into contact with him (not easy when I generally travel the same distance from home as a particularly lazy tortoise travels in 24 hours). Once all those criteria are fulfilled we get down to the less important things - personality, sense of humour, the ability to actually get along with me...

Gah. Love, schmove. As a wise woman once said: "Love? I'd rather fall in chocolate."