Pre-pandemic I was all for mocking romantic restaurant Valentine’s Day dinners. I dismissed them as a money-making ploy to fill the gourmet gap between the departure of the Christmas Turkey and the arrival of the Easter Bunny. Reminding my nearest and dearest that the real St Valentine was not only celibate but also clubbed to death and then beheaded seemed stylishly cynical.
Now? Not so much. I am nostalgic for the days before social distancing, booze bans and curfews when I blithely assumed that there would be endless opportunities for amorous eating out. I am aware that, even if (please God) my husband and I are alive, economically afloat and vaccinated by this time next year, many of the hospitality hotspots we loved will not have survived.