Three years ago today, love was shiny and new and I could still barely make eye contact without blushing. I'd cleverly ranted and raved in advance about crappy overpriced Valentines flowers that only last a day, so I was chuffed when Gareth showed up on my doorstep with a plant. I christened him Duncan!
I've destroyed every other plant I've ever owned, including a trio of Unkillable Cactii. But Duncan has marched on and on, strong and unruly and rather primeval looking in his dinky pot that looks like it was crafted from the walls of a Swedish sauna.
I like to think his flourishing is some sort of symbol of our relationship, but to be honest it's more likely because Gareth remembers to water the poor bastard.
Happy V-Day, Doc!