Our High Street this week, I have to say, is a shame to us all. It's gone a trashy shade of red. The colour pollution of Valentine's paraphernalia started four weeks ago. Four! Barely had the dregs of the January sales rails been relegated further into bargain bins when Clinton's was transposed into a sea of red.
Almost everything sold in the supermarket is aimed at an audience of two or more. Your hand hovers over the English muffins, packed in sixes. You'll never eat six, not before they go stale. The only way you could get through six muffins before the mould hits is by having them for every meal for the next two days.
A bottle of wine shared after a particularly trying day at work is far more relaxing than a bottle of wine binged upon while trawling deeper and deeper through the annals of Facebook, the stream of which seems to be filled exclusively with evidence that my exes are all coping with single life far better than I am.