I got two Valentines today. The first was a small chocolate heart handed to me by a Skånetrafiken employee as I arrived in Landskrona on my morning commute to work. The trains from Malmö continue to be “consistently inconsistent” about keeping to their published timetables (despite the fact that the snow has been gone for weeks), so I suspect the candy was more a gesture of apology than anything else.
Later in the day my boss gave me a heart-shaped tin of fancy Belgian chocolates that she’d picked up on a recent visit to one of our subsidiaries. In what has become something of an inside-joke-cum-tradition, I took it home and presented it to Dr. Darling, who later shared the contents with me in front of the TV.
Here’s the gist of the conversation that followed between myself and the world’s most non-romantic Swede:
“If it wasn’t for my boss, you wouldn’t have any idea it was Valentine’s Day, would you.” (This was more of a statement than a question.)
“Probably not. Do you want the gold-wrapped one?”
“Is it hazelnut?”
“What’s with Belgians and hazelnuts? Eight out of 10 of these chocolates are some variation of it.”
“Maybe you should tell your boss we want Swedish chocolates next year.”
“I love you. too, Sweetie.”