My first Valentine was unforgettable. It was a homemade card with a poem inside. Roses are red, Violets are blue, When I grow up, I want to marry you. I was seven, and had a crush on a handsome boy in my class. I thought it must be from him and excitedly checked his handwriting. I discovered instead that it was from a boy with spots whose nickname was ‘Smelly’ because his mother gave him meat and onion sandwiches for lunch. I was terribly disappointed.