Karen Chritchley, NWS member and writer of historical fiction, shares her memorable Valentine's Day from 1984...
It may not be the most romantic of stories but it certainly shows that the age of chivalry isn’t dead even in a Nottinghamshire mining village about to besieged by 8,000 flying pickets!
So it was in 1984, with my head in the clouds at sweet sixteen and full of what I imagined to be love; I made what was to be the first in a long line of overzealous romantic faux pas.
I sent Karl, a quiet, studious boy; who at a year older had had the misfortune to pass me a few times in the corridor and talk to me once –the most ostentatious Valentine’s card you’ve ever seen complete with a poem penned for the occasion.
Sadly for us both; said items were removed from Karl’s locker and displayed in his year’s common room for all to mock. He, it seems, was powerless and I resigned myself to the fact that there was no hope of retrieval without further humiliation. After all, as my late husband was fond of saying years later; you knew better than to argue we are ‘talking about a place where you played tiggy with hatchets!’
I was astonished and almost moved to tears when an hour or so later the items were returned to me. The tiniest boy in my class, who I scarcely knew, had sneaked into the lion’s den into to preserve my honour.
“It wasn’t right...” he blushed.
As for me, I felt a warm glow inside for the first time in my young life and that moment will stay with me forever.