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February 2005: PAUL SMITH’S DEVIANT’S DIARY - “Saints above. And one more underneath too.”
I’ve always thought St. Valentine was an unusual choice for the patron saint of lovers. For starters, there have been three different saints called Valentine or Valentinus, all of whom were martyred. By martyred I mean horribly slain amid much blood, agony and entrails - but hey, what says romance more than a slaughtered third century roman? Other than a slaughtered third century roman holding flowers and a box of chocolates?
Also, why the middle of February? There’s still frost on the windscreen to be roughly removed and pine needles turning up in unexpected places around the house. The sap isn’t yet rising as it’s not really spring, so young lovers thoughts are yet to turn to the rebirth of the land after the long winter nights - and dogging. Ok, I looked this up on the Internet - so the information I’m about to impart comes from a source of the very highest credibility. Apparently Pope Gelasius put February the 14th aside for St. Valentine’s Day in 496 A.D. The pre-Christian Roman tradition had been to use the day to big-up (in the parlance of our time) Juno, the roman goddess of women and marriage. One of the traditions associated with the feast of Lupercalia, which started on the 15th, was held on the night before. Young women put their names on small scraps of parchment and put them all in a jar or bowl together. Then the local lads would pick a name at random and if the couple hit it off, they’d get married and everyone would be happy ever after. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right, it is just one small step from names in the bowl to car keys. It seems St. Valentine’s Day has something to thank suburban swingers for, as well as the other way round.
The Saint Valentine who the day is said to be named after was a Roman Catholic priest during the reign of Emperor Claudius II. At the time Rome was fighting several long, nasty wars and there was a growing shortage of young men to go and fight them. Thinking laterally the Emperor outlawed marriage, reasoning single men would be more enthusiastic to join up for the fight. This was an unpopular move and many priests continued conducting marriage services in secret, risking their lives to do so. In about 269 A.D. Valentine was apprehended, sentenced to death by clubbing by the Prefect of Rome and taken away to await execution. They also cut his head off but not before he’d left a goodbye note for his jailors’ daughter, whom he’d fallen in love with. If you believe the dogma he simply signed it, ‘From your Valentine’. His bones now rest in a Basilica in his home province of Terni. That’s the story, anyway.
More certainly the commercialisation of something as holy as St. Valentine’s Day is, of course, an outrage. Continuing with my tongue removed from my cheek, it became the fashion to send unsigned cards and tokens of affection in the nineteenth century. Miss Esther Howland is accepted as a pioneer of the custom in the USA. I suspect her father owned a paper mill, her brother-in-law was a printer and she had shares in a glitter factory but that’s probably because I’m a twisted old cynic.
Again from t’internet, so it must be true: Some people used to believe that if a woman saw a robin flying overhead on Valentine's Day, it meant she would marry a sailor. If she saw a sparrow, she would marry a poor man and be very happy. If she saw a goldfinch, she would marry a millionaire. I don’t know why. In Wales wooden love spoons are carved and given as gifts on February 14th. Hearts, keys and keyholes are favourite decorations on the spoons. The decoration means, ‘you unlock my heart’. English folklore tells us that years ago many children dressed up as adults on Valentine's Day to go singing from home to home. One verse they sang was, “Good morning to you, Valentine. Curl your locks as I do mine - Two before and three behind. Good morning to you, Valentine”. It makes me appreciate my PlayStation II but I can see why people mourn the loss of some of these picturesque rural traditions. I mean, I enjoy The Wicker Man as much as the next fan of heathen human sacrifice.
There are already card-laden celebrations of other forms of love. Mothers’ Day and Fathers’ Day celebrate the love of sons and daughters for their parents. Grandparents’ day embodies much the same idea. The religious festival of your choice reflects followers’ love of their maker, or other deity of their choice. In some countries the love of that country - patriotism - is cause for card exchange. Yet it’s only St. Valentine’s Day we think of as a salute to love - strange when it’s more a nod to romance than love, par se. Thus far I’ve ignored a whole subculture of the card genre. The sort of card that has a cartoon vicar in fishnets on the front. The kind that carries a rhyme in the ‘Roses are red, violets are blue. I fancy a shag, do you fancy one too?’ mould. This brings me onto the crux of this article. It is my earnest belief that there should be a separate day, set aside specifically for the celebration of just this sort of love - physical love. Lust. Carnal desire. However you dress it up (or dress up for it), good clean honest sex doesn’t get the recognition in the calendar that it deserves.
I suggest August the 14th, as my research shows it to be conveniently opposite Valentine’s Day in the calendar, as well as being the only day in the year not already a Day. National No Smoking Day, Take Your Pet To Work Day, International Talk Like A Pirate Day - Not only genuinely sad, but also sadly genuine. Ok, Alfred Hitchcock was born on this date in 1899 but this not widely celebrated. Certainly not by him. Much has been said about the deep, serious meaning of religious festivals (and Saint Valentine’s Day really is a religious festival. The hint is in the name) being lost under a sea of crass commercialisation (where the Saint bit often gets dropped) which is another reason I think that side of it should be separated from the religious meaning. Any new, recognised Carnival of Lust should certainly not be left it to the chocolate manufactures and florists. Why say it with flowers and chocs when you can open the petals of something much more satisfying and enjoy something a lot sweeter? You can be sure the card manufactures would get behind a National Sex Day in a jiffy too. Any excuse to produce something for 3p that’ll retail for £1.80. I mean. Easter cards. Sorry I missed your court case cards… Is it such a leap from there to ‘You shag like a bunny - But it feels so funny - When you call me mummy’ cards?
In a nutshell that my editor can use as a subtitle: “Say it without flowers. This year give her the gift of ecstatic, erotic pleasure.”
Paul Smith is still free to a good home. Kinky Job offers to info@snapsandbytes.co.uk please.
1200ish words on history and histrionics.
Paul.