Fourteen, oh two, oh six.

So, what did you do for Valentine's, this year?

[Insert here your lengthy stories about boisterous lovemaking and/or wallowing in self pity]

That's nice. I spent mine throwing potatoes at my girlfriend. Yes, potatoes.

But that's not at all romantic, I hear you all gasp in unison. To which I'd reply, au contraire, friends, it is very romantic.

Think about it.

Take roses, the socalled epitome of romance. Roses last, at most, a few weeks, and only if you take good care of them, putting them on water, all that. Roses, in short, merely exist to be pretty - appearance is their reason d'etre. Ergo, giving a girl roses is like saying to her: "My love for you is merely transitory and is based solely and exclusively on your appearance".

Romantic? I think not.

But a potato! A potato last forever; in fact, a potato doesn't just not die, it will eventually start sprouting again, even when left unattended. The beginning of new life is inherently encapsulated within the potato. But that's not all. The potato is remarkably versatile; it is the giver of energy in more ways than one. You can take energy from a potato by turning it into delicious foods; you can bake it, boil it, roast it, mash it. Alternatively, and more pragmatically, you can take energy from a potato, simply by turning it into a battery.

In short, a potato is not only the bringer of life, it is the giver of energy.

Ergo, giving a woman a potato (or throwing several at her while she is trying to do some homework) is a limitless expression of love. You are, in essence, telling her this:

"Despite being brownish grey and rather lumpy, I'll still eat you, even if you start growing icky green bits."

But also:

"You enrich my life, and fill me with your energy, and for that you have both my gratitude and my deepest love."

To sum up. To whomever this is directed, and you know who you are - I've given you my heart; today I give you a potato. I love you.

Cheers