Gobbledygook

According to newspapers, there is a school in England that has banned pupils from sending Valentine cards, as they don't think children are 'emotionally mature' enough to cope with romance.

One of my former classmates may very well have wished that particular rule was in place when we were at school.

Little Bobby Walker. The object of my affection when I was the grand old age of 11.

He wore a really nice anorak and was good at playing football so I decided I was going to ask him to be my boyfriend. Not only that, but I was going to do something quite unheard of. Instead of sending a friend on my behalf, to tell Bobby that I fancied him, I decided to cut out the middle man and speak to him myself. Face to face. Man to man.

This was my first mistake. The second was telling my friends about my plan. Word got around, so it meant that when the bell rang at the end of the day, quite a crowd had gathered at the school gate. Standing in the centre of the group was Bobby Walker.

'I hear you have something to ask me. What is it?'

My third mistake was forgetting that boys mature slower than girls. I paid no heed to the fact that Bobby was surrounded by his friends and would want to impress them. I stupidly went ahead and asked him loudly and clearly if he would be mine.

'No. Eff off.'

He actually said the proper profanity, I just can't bring myself to type it. I can still distinctly remember how I felt standing in front of everyone with my cheeks smarting while his grubby friends laughed.

What I don't remember is what I did after. That is until a few months ago when my older cousin gave me a load of letters I'd written to her as a wee lassie growing up in Scotland.

One particular letter mentioned that I'd sent a Valentine's card to Bobby Walker.

It all suddenly came back to me. Don't worry it wasn't a mushy one. Obviously he didn't deserve that. No, I remembered that what I'd done was made him a card with the inscription 'You and your mouth are fowl' and being the clever girl I was, I'd drawn a picture of a hen to accompany my words. I know, I know, witty eh?!

I'm just glad that this memory came back to me because I hadn't explained all this in my letter. In actual fact I could have been really concerned about the young me, because all I had written to my cousin, in my big childish scrawl was...

'Did you send any Valentine cards this year? I did. I sent one to Bobby Walker. I drew a cock on it.'

Ah, the innocence of youth.

The card clearly worked a treat because it was no time at all before Bobby said he'd changed his mind and wanted me to be his girlfriend. Or rather he got his twin brother Billy to tell me that. I just wish I could have seen his face when Billy went back and told him that I'd also changed my mind and now liked him instead and we'd become a couple...