Although Ian* has told me nothing about his time at the therapist last night, he sent some flowers to my office together with a note congratulating me on my shaolin exam results.
It's too bad I don't have my camera here at work. It's not a large or pricey bouquet, but it's still very pretty. And every time I look at it, a mushy twinge of romanticism goes through me. I don't describe myself as Ferdinand the Heifer - the female counterpart of Ferdinand the Bull - for nothing.
I suppose that the tradition of men sending flowers to women could be described as an unimaginative cliche, but I don't care. It's a gesture I really like. So there.
* See Key to Characters at right.