A couple of weeks ago my sister-in-law accused me of turning into my mother. Her actual words were, “you’re becoming just like your mother, boring”. After I picked myself up off the floor I thought about it and decided she was probably right. I’m only admitting this because I just had a call from friends asking us to a Valentine’s party on Monday. My first thought was, “Monday? But we have to go to work on Tuesday.” Most of our friends here are “second-time-arounders� �� so my second thought was “oh no, not another night spent with middle aged people eating each other and thinking it’s SO cool to know all the lyrics to the WHOLE Scissor Sisters CD.” (Something tells me Susan and Henry are going to give me a hard time over this.) Then I was told we had to take a plate of red food, i.e. red for passion. I thought about whipped cream and food colouring…and shuddered. I ended the call by saying the other Andaloo was busy dodging bombs in Madrid till Sunday, so I’d call back when I knew what state he was in on his return.