Valentine's schmalentines.

If there's one modern festival I simply cannot abide, this is it.

I'm not sure exactly what purpose it's supposed to serve but as far as I can see it, Valentine's Day has two main purposes: 1. To make money for companies who produce sickly sweet cards with teddy bears on the front 2. To make single people feel like complete social pariahs - an ugly wart on the otherwise beautiful face of human existence It's bad enough that all my friends seem to be settling down and having kids or else all loved up with a long-term partner, I really don't need it rubbing in my face for a whole 24 hours.

As you may have guessed, I'm single. But, as a wise man once said, like the Murphy's, I'm not bitter'. No, seriously I'm not.

I also don't have a problem with romance, far from it. In fact, as some of my closest friends would gleefully testify, I can be a bit of a soppy fool at times.

As a result, I've had my fair share of Valentine's tragedies over the years - misguided attempts to embrace an event that means nothing to me in a doomed attempt to put a smile on someone else's face.

I remember one year buying a huge bouquet of flowers for my girlfriend at the time and having them delivered to her office. A pretty textbook romantic gesture until you consider she had a serious pollen allergy.

Needless to say she wasn't best pleased going into an important meeting later in the day with a stuffy nose and tears streaming down her face. Her colleagues must have wondered what exactly it was about Prada's spring/summer collection that upset her so much.

You probably won't be surprised to learn that one didn't last too long.

But although I'm not averse to grandiose gestures of affection, I really don't like to be told when I should make them.

Maybe it stems from a deep-rooted mistrust of authority, maybe I'm just an awkward and bad-tempered cynic. Either way, if I want to show someone I love them, I'll do it on my own terms and probably won't limit it to just one day of the year, unless I'm feeling particularly stingy.

But that seems to be the way of the world these days. People like to be told what to buy and when to buy it, how else do you explain paying double the going rate for a bunch of tatty roses just because the calendar shows a certain date?

I always admired the Milk Tray man. There was someone who didn't play by the rules, a maverick if you like.

I bet he didn't let anyone else tell him when or where to deliver his chocolates - he probably would have killed them if they'd tried.

That said, whether the lady loves Milk Tray or not, there was always something a little sinister about his methods. I think I'll stick to the tried and trusted chat up methods for the time being.