Love is like the Sound of Music … Everyone has to suffer it (A Valentine Story)

I was a callow youth, earned 55 shillings & sixpence a week and was sorely infatuated by Pauline, the counter assistant at the local Co-op grocery store – She was to be my first Valentine. Pauline stood about five foot four in her black patent sling-backs. With blonde ponytail and doe-like eyes she was lovely & delightfully shaped - I guessed 34-22-36, only the fried rice was missing!

I was a poor young man in Love:
 My suit was worn
My coat was old
Water ran through my shoes
But the stars ran through my soul.

  I sought out every opportunity to see her. You couldn’t move in our larder for packets of Co-op custard creams, tins of condensed milk & cans of pilchards. One evening Pauline turned up at the social club. I tried to look cool and ordered a dry martini (Bond style!) The barman gave me an empty glass – it was the driest Martini imaginable. I invited Pauline to dance – she refused! Being brought up on romantic Hollywood musicals with a father who did a passable Al Jolson impersonation & a mother who thought she was Ginger Rogers I played out the role of the rejected lover – it didn’t work – Hollywood sold me short! I’d learnt a few magic tricks from the Eagle comic and tried to impress her with some sleight of hand. She was impressed, but only ‘slightly.’ I noticed she had an interesting mole on her neck – it kept jumping up & swinging on her earring.

Come February 14th I decided to give Pauline a Valentine card – but not an anonymous one – I wanted her to know it was from me. As she handed me another can of pilchards I gave her the card. She smiled & whilst she was off-guard I asked her out to the Pictures – incredulously she accepted … & didn’t even charge me for the pilchards! I took her to see the Sylvester Stallone movie about that sheep which didn’t eat for 3 months. You know the one, ‘Rambones,’

The relationship moved on rapidly & Pauline started to broach the subject of eventual marriage, but on 55 shillings & sixpence a week it was impossible – we’d have to spend our honeymoon in a bike shed. Fed up with waiting Pauline went off with a corporation bus conductor, nickname of ‘Biffo,’ who looked like a suet pudding on legs. Indecently overfed with a chest full of ‘tobacco’ and belligerent appearance he resembled a French rugby hooker. A perfect union for ‘Biffo’ would have been with BurgerKing!

That was my first Valentine experience. I never saw Pauline again - nor bought any more pilchards. However, sweet consolation came on hearing that ‘Biffo’ suffered from advanced Piles, the discomfort of which severely restricted his libido. Schadenfreude, I think they call it. How Pauline must have missed me!