It is not like me not to question the origin of a festival or tradition. It seems I have been somewhat lax in that regard to Valentines Day.

I have always found it to be a bit uncomfortable. Icky even, and paid it little attention. Many reasons.

This year by coincidence 5 of us went for supper on Valentines night. Five laughing women on a big table surrounded by many couples on little tables. The table decorations were lovely fluffy hearts added to the usual cacti that adorn the tables . Rather a metaphor for the whole love thing which is never without its prickly moments.

Unusually, Valentines Day is not a sanitised or convenient appropriation of a Pagan festival. On this occasion the early Christian Church pinched this one from the Romans.

Early Christians named the Day for St Valentine.

Then the Victorians turned into the mushy, sentimental and commercialised thing it is today.

Maybe now is the time for me to share a couple of my examples of my antipathy but also that Christianity has tried to put a pretty spin on certain festivals, but humans will be humans

When I was 14 I worked in a small department store. A Newsagents with ideas above its original purpose. Women would simply buy a card for their loved one. Men on the other hand would quite often buy 3 items. A card, a gift from our fabulous range of home wares and a couple of magazines from the top shelf.

The transactional element was not lost on a nerdy and acne plagued teenager.

Fast forward 40 years or so and I worked in the City of London. Valentines Day would arrive early canoodling in the bushes or on the benches of St Pauls Churchyard. By the evening litter bins would be used to dispose of hastily discarded cards given to work colleagues, dumped before people returned to their home lives and regular relationships. Status Quo maintained.

St Valentine might blush but Lupercalia would just nod sagely and smile.