All is quiet, on Valentine's Day

It's Valentine's Day today, so to be romantic I'm taking my girlfriend for a very long walk in the freezing cold. Girls love that. And if she complains, I can push her off a mountain. I'm a marvellous chap.

Last night we went for a few pints in the Green Man, which has a menagerie of cats and a rather large Weimaraner (the size of a full-grown Alsatian, and it's only nine months old). I'm becoming keen on getting a very large dog that I can take for walks. Or possibly a whippet, that I can take for very short, very quick runs. Apparently whippets are perfect low maintenance pets, as they spend almost all their time sleeping, and then go for one very quick run every day, before being exhausted again. A bit like me, although recently I've gone easy on the running.

After having something to eat and drinking up, we walked back to Ben's flat, where we listened to Klaus Wunderlich and Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds. I persuaded Ben to hold a Joan Armatrading record cover over his face to disguise himself, while we took photographs. It was that sort of night.

(What sort of night does that describe? “The sort of night where a man gets another man to hold a picture of a woman on the outside of the packaging of a vinyl record over his face, while the sound of 1970s synths play in the background.” Yes. That will do.)

We were all in bed before twelve. Different beds. Ben has his own girlfriend and does not need to cuddle up to mine. Or to me. Is that clear?

A good preparation for today's hike. I write this, bleary eyed at 8 in the morning; I will return to this in the evening with an account of today's behaviour.