We all know the pressure I/we felt at Christmas; the overwhelming guilt of not having the tree up until the 13th of December, the burden of ensuring all the kids create magical memories to treasure for all eternity and the stress of conjuring up traditions for the boys to pass onto their sprogs in years to come. Valentine’s Day, on the other hand, is my time to shine! No pressure for memories, traditions or internal sparkling – just a whole lotta LOVE!
My obsession with a morning tea in bed begun when I was just 6 and, didn’t even like tea. Staying with my Great-Nanny Flo, every morning her doily-clad teas-maid would ping its tinny alarm to notify her that the morning could begin thanks to a somewhat stewed, chlorine-y brew – but a brew none-the-less. Fast forward 25 (odd!) years, and not only did I start drinking tea during my first pregnancy, it’s so deeply ingrained in my (morning) routine that it’s almost a part of me. I’m also known for not being a morning person, so, in order to rouse me from my dribbling slumber without being subjected to the wrath of “you’re burning my bloody retinas” as he opens the blinds, Mr OG comes armed with a steamy cuppa to placate my morning dragon rage.