So it's almost 9pm on the most romantic night of the year. Allegedly. Personally I take Groundhog Day far more seriously. But le boyfriend is in bed with a streaming cold and Virgin radio for company, and as his flatmates have ransacked the place (I think they may have even divided up the cockroaches amongst themselves) we have no TV, washing machine, CD player, kettle or anything else with which I might entertain myself (hours of fun to be had with a kettle folks!) and I'm feeling grumpy. This internet connection is very very tenuous, I'm worried to even check my spelling of tenuous in case it crashes before I have a chance to post.

I should go baste him with a damp flannel or something, though he may have to make do with a tea towel. Still, I suppose this is love.