In a recent post The Key to My Heart, I mentioned Dom wasn’t given to making many faux pas. I’ve been reminded of two instances since then.
The first occasion was last Valentine’s Day (how soon we forget). Dom’s new business was going well and Sandra had recently joined Hazel and ourselves to form a tightly-knitted team. Sandra had also been a Spice Coordinator and during our tenures we would meet up to brainstorm issues such as membership recruitment and retention. These sessions usually involved curry and lots of alcohol. Looking to emulate the same success with his new company, Dom suggested a few dates to meet up. There was only one date when everyone was free: 14th February. A hotel and restaurant were booked and Dom rattled off an email to confirm the details.
“You do know what day that is?” replied Hazel.
“Do you think she’ll notice?” said Dom, but it was too late, everything was booked.
So that’s how Dom spent Valentine’s Day enjoying a curry with three lovely ladies. We received some very strange looks from the restaurant staff. The other diners were more interested in staring at their phones to pay us much attention, but at least we were all having fun.
Ah, you’re thinking, I bet it was somewhere nice. Nope. I think ‘nice’ is a word that Stoke-on-Trent aspires to. The hotel was sad and neglected and long past its former glory. Unsurprisingly it wasn’t full, and I’m sure I witnessed a few raised eyebrows at breakfast from the few other guests:
“You stayed HERE?”
Now, I don’t wish to sound unkind, but Stoke-on-Trent isn’t the type of place a girl dreams about spending a romantic break. It’s not like some of the UK’s other lovely hyphenated towns and villages such as Henley-on Thames, Bourton-on-the-Water or Ross-on-Wye, but I guess such places are unlikely to have vacancies a week before such a big event in the marketing calendar (unless something untoward has happened). But there was another surprise in store; to round off our mini-break, Dom took me on a tour of students-ville to show me his university accommodation.
Who says romance is dead?