It's a question as old as time: do you eat out for Valentine's Day or brave the kitchen yourself in a foolhardy attempt to impress your partner? On the one hand, if you dine out, you won't burn your kitchen down, desperately scraping ashen steak chops off the oven walls as your love weeps into her napkin.
Fast forward twenty years and me and the fictious Bridget Jones once again find ourselves in similar situations. We are both widows with young children. She has two, I have three. I am fascinated that Helen Fielding has followed this storyline as, since I was widowed seven years ago, I have been amazed at how little contemporary literary reference there is to us 'young widows'.
Le Grand Meaulnes is a novel best read by a man of youth and innocence, as it would be impossible for those who have become immune to life's tragedies, where the rawness of that first lost love has faded into the mists of time, to ever resonate quite so deeply and fall under its spell in such a tremendous way.