101 Things #95 - Flowers for the One You Love

A rich source of inspiration for some of these little pieces of invective, in which I submit the bucket-list ideas of others to a little light degradation, has been the website Bucket List Journey, so it will come as no surprise that once again I putting one of their recommendations under the spotlight. The latest candidate for enrolment in the Academy of Awfulness, a.k.a. 101 Things I Refuse To Do Before I Die is to

Send flowers to yourself.

I suppose the strap-line should be something like "Because you're worth it" but I think another business has registered that one.

Why should you do this? Buying flowers to adorn one's home, or maybe to display on a desk in the office, sure. Mrs C. is certainly partial to the odd bunch. But why would you want to send them to yourself and why should this be something so notable that it is worth inscribing on a bucket-list to be done at all costs before the men in white coats take away your money and hide the keys to the front door? Could it be that this is how it is supposed to work out?

Scene: You and a couple of BL high achievers are comparing notes. Naturally the conversation is in American English.
BL1: "I ran a marathon on all seven continents within one month"
BL2: "Gee, that's great but hear this - I went to the best restaurant in Bologna and ordered one of everything on the menu, and ate the lot"
BL1: "Really neat. What did you do, RR?"
RRC:  "Me. Oh nothing special. Just sent myself a bouquet of daffodils, that's all. They only cost £8 plus £15 delivery from Ruislip Florists."
BL2: "Wow."
BL1: "Neato deluxe."
BL2: "Sensational, RR, you scooped us real good."
RRC: "Ah shucks, it was nothing, hey you guys will get round to it one day, I'm sure of it."
BL1: "I don't know about that. You're in a league of your own, dude, you really are. I'm so proud just to be in the same room as you."

Well, as Harry Hill used to say, you get the idea with that.

I also like to imagine what happens when there is that ring on the doorbell.

Scene: Your house. The doorbell rings. You answer it. The delivery man thrusts a bouquet into your arms.
 "Mr Commuter? Flowers for you, guv."
"Flowers? I ...someone sent me flowers?"
"Yes, guv. Here's your name on the label"
"It must be a mistake"
There's no mistake. I was in the shop when you ordered them."
"Flowers? For me? Oh, how wonderful. I'm so excited. Who on earth could have sent them?"
"You did, mate. It was you. I saw you."
"I'm so happy. I can't believe that I remembered. I thought I didn't care, maybe it was all over between us. But now this. In my wildest dreams I could never have imagined I liked myself so much"
"Bleedin' hell, mate, give it a rest"
And he goes back to his van and you whirl about your living room.

Fade to black. Roll end credits. House lights up.

I think I have made my case. We'll leave it here, I think. No flowers, by request.