February 14 is an important day in the calendar. I am of course referring to the Roman festival of Lupercalia, held in honour of the she-wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus. Today is day two of the three day festival.
Lupercalia is most famous for the running of naked men through the city streets, as they hit anyone they meet with thongs. The ancient writer Plutarch says that those who do the run are magistrates and young noblemen. I really hope no High Court judges get their kits off, because, well, I just don't want to see some things. Might be a good day not to be a barrister.
All in all this day might be one for the ladies. Fair enough. The gents get Boobs on Bikes every year.
Another festival which appears to be one for the ladies is Valentines Day. On this day the menfolk make their annual pilgrimage to the florist, and finish the journey with a quick stop at Whitcoulls. Unless they're single, in which case they cower at home in fear and self-loathing, willing the day to pass more quickly.
I am trying to convince my beloved that we don't need a special day each year to celebrate my love, because we have 365 of them. This strategy is not working, however.
I fear I may be required to make a romantic gesture.