Over the past 12 years, my partner and I have settled into a special Valentine’s tradition. We order pizza and watch the telly.

Come to think of it, that’s the same tradition we have pretty much every Saturday night, which should tell you everything you need to know about our sense of occasion on February 14.

Mercifully, my other half doesn’t care about the cards, chocolates, or flowers. That suits me just fine, because, at the risk of sounding utterly miserable, Valentine’s Day is bloody awful.