WHY do I always feel vaguely awkward on St Valentine's Day? When the shops are awash with novelty gifts like chocolate hearts, sequin-covered red devil horns and mugs saying "Be Mine".

When magazines are swamped with ideas as to what to give that "special person" in your life - things such as sensual body rub, red roses or a "Do Not Disturb Kit".

Every year it gets worse - we are bombarded with stuff that can only make women like me feel uncomfortable.

Women for whom the word "passion" is more likely to be uttered along with the word "killers" when your beloved catches a glimpse of your latest "hold-it-in-lift-it-up" knickers.

Women who find that their nearest and dearest no longer attempts to boost their confidence with aghast cries of: "What wrinkles?" and is more likely to bluntly say "Isn't there a cream you can get for those?" or "I read about a clinic that Joan Collins uses".

Women who feel as attractive as an extra from a smallpox docu-drama. And whose husbands don't even notice they are there, unless they can't find the marmalade first thing in the morning.

In short, we just don't know how to behave on St Valentine's Day. What to say, what to buy. Even mumbling "Happy St Valentine's Day" would shock my husband to the core in a house where the most romantic thing that takes place is the nightly liaison between our cat and his mate next door.

If I left a chocolate heart on my husband's pillow, he'd think it was from the kids. And if I presented him with a bottle of body rub, he'd assume it was for the car.

A friend did offer to babysit so we could go out for a meal - but I can just imagine us, sitting among all those lovey-dovey couples, staring longingly into each other's eyes and confessing their undying love, when all we have to talk about is whether the children have gone to bed on time and how we'd better hurry home in case one of them wakes up suddenly in a traumatic state.

We don't even hold hands anymore, for heaven's sake. Just because it's St Valentine's Day doesn't mean we will suddenly turn into Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton.

I can't help thinking that, with many couples, it's all a bit false. Hearts and flowers one day, back to the washing-up, ironing and tit-for-tat slanging matches the next.

I think we've long outgrown St Valentine's Day. The children can make cards for their dad, but we'll just carry in the usual, distinctly unromantic way.

Like I did at the supermarket the other night - by-passing the sequin devil horns and chocolate hearts in Kwik-Save in my usual mad rush to buy milk, bread and loo cleaner.

WATCHING a news item on the death of Princess Margaret, I was struck by what a friend - who was visiting the Princess in the days before she died - said. "She was listening to a tape, then the tea was brought in."

You can bet the tea wasn't delivered by a caring family member, but by one of the many servants still employed to wait on the Royal Family.

Sad as her death may be, isn't it time we asked ourselves whether they should be leading such a hugely-privileged lifestyle at our expense?WHY do I always feel vaguely awkward on St Valentine's Day? When the shops are awash with novelty gifts like chocolate hearts, sequin-covered red devil horns and mugs saying "Be Mine".

Updated: 11:00 Monday, February 18, 2002