Our supper date last night was a flop. We couldn’t relax in the restaurant, which was too brightly lit and has nothing to absorb sound. You feel as if your every word carries loudly to the other end of the room.

The food was barely passable. The garlic toast had no flavour. The soup of the day, cream of mushroom, tasted as if it had come out of a can. The “baby” Greek salad had too little feta cheese, only two olives. The lasagna sauce tasted like canned tomato soup and the meat in it had a “bad” flavour. We probably won’t go there again, though they make a decent pizza and deliciously salty boneless ribs.

My sweetie was not in ‘date’ mode, either. That’s when you appreciate the person you are with and are glad of the opportunity to spend time alone with her. He had forgotten about our plan, so had not been savouring the anticipation as I had. He probably would have preferred to stay home.

You know how couples who’ve been together for a while seem to look everywhere but at each other when they are in a restaurant? We were doing that, and when I attempted conversation, he was snarly. So I shrugged and gave that up.

It didn’t turn out to be the evening I was looking forward to, but in the end I did fall asleep in his loving arms so we must have done something right.