Valentine’s Day dawned grey as it were, as indeed it dawns every single morning in Sydney at the moment and indeed far from being drenched in rose petals I got absolutely soaked walking into work—I can see the “ditch the car and use the legs” New Year’s resolution is about to go the same way as the rest of them. My mood lifted when I returned home to find a large flower box on the front step. I walked up the steps with a Nigella Lawson, think Domestic Goddess, type sway of my hips. The smirk however was swiftly replaced by a look of frothing fury as I discovered that far from being from a secret admirer, or even at a pinch my husband, the flowers in question were in fact for one of my daughters. Hell hath no fury like a mother scorned. I had a moment of instant empathy on the Snow White’s stepmother front—and made a mental note not to ask any mirrors leading questions along “Who’s the fairest?” lines for fear of receiving an unfavourable if truthful opinion. I also resolved to point out to the relevant Drama Queen the importance of explaining to any prospective boyfriends the first rule of successful dating: Suck up to the mother.