January 20th 2017

Today I found out that my local petrol station doesn’t sell flowers.

For the last three days I’ve had ‘flowers’ written on the palm of my left hand to remind myself to buy Alice some flowers on my way home from work. But, I guess something that I didn’t think through about that plan is that the inside of my hand is that the palm of my hand is the bit that grabs the steering wheel, and that kinda sorta covered my reminder message.

So on Wednesday and Thursday night I got home flowerless and curse myself ‘Oh well, I’ll get them tomorrow’ I told myself. And then I forgot them tonight as well.

And we sat down and watched a film after dinner. It was a romantic film and I was thinking throughout most of it ‘Just go get her some from the garage after the film finishes’ and for the last half hour of the film I was trying to think of a reasonable excuse that would explain why I desperately had to go to the petrol station at 9:30 at night.

In the end I went for ‘I need some throat sweets, I’ll be right back’. She didn’t buy it. She knew something was going on, but I just ran out the door before she could ask anything, and I kept running. I didn’t want to put it off, I wanted to be proactive and spontaneous. I don’t know why I went for ‘throat sweets’.

I ran all the way to the garage in my jeans.

Turns out they don’t sell flowers.

I wanted to get her flowers, but all they had were frozen pizzas and kindling. There was nothing in the shop that I could pass off as romantic, so I had to settle on a packet of crisps and a bottle of wine.

Because of course roses are romance, but so are Kettle Chips and Blossom Hill.

I walked home the long way and tried to find some kind of floral growth on the side of the river.

Did you know that very few flowers grow in the middle of winter? That’s a thing I learnt tonight. Everything I found was a mixture of dead, dying, and brown.

I walked through the door with a bottle of wine and a packet of crisps and Alice laughed at me, because it’s typically me.

Until tomorrow, good intentions, but with a failure to deliver.



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