Tuesday 14 February 2012: Ah yes, I remember it well...
January 2002. Picture the scene: a group of hardy Labour Party activists huddle together for warmth outside a locked clifftop office, scoured by Siberian winds. Someone arrives and says 'I gave the keys to the trainer; he's in a B&B 100yds away, I don't know why he's not here'. A phonecall, and moments later a sleepy-looking man runs down the street, coat flapping, shoes undone.
At the end of the meeting he says to me 'Are you in Young Labour?'
Me: 'I'm probably too old'
Him: 'You can be in it until you're 26'
Me: 'I am too old then, but I'm flattered'.
Later my sister rings home (I'm living with my parents again) and we say we've met an entertaining Scotsman.
The following night he turns up again at the fundraising quiz. My recollection is my team beats his (narrowly). Then he invites himself out clubbing with me (I'm not that old).
Shortly after he disappears to live in a Travelodge in Wales and work at a by-election. I get a Valentine's card in the post for the first time ever. It's written in green highlighter pen but by some angling under the light I think I can make out the message. It has a Welsh postmark anyway.
I was starting to wonder how I was going to move out of my mum's house, and find a baggage-free man of my age, so I have the Labour Party to thank for that.
We played Things Can Only Get Better at our wedding; the dancing is forever seared on my memory...
Happy Valentine's Day
(we had a steak dinner, if you're wondering about the mustard)