Soft trod this man on Valentine's night

Then a couple sauntered in, having just had a romantic meal at the nearby Olive Tree restaurant.

I decided to slip into my Eccentric Pub Regular role and told them: "I'm sorry, it's strictly no admission for couples in this bar."

Ha ha, they got the joke, and I talked to them. The woman, blonde and glamorous, was a Russian, I discovered. It occurred to me that she and her partner might like to come to the poetry nights I run in New Brighton and Liverpool. Poetry is rather big in Russia you see; it doesn't occupy the sort of ghetto it does in our country.

But pretty soon it was time to leave the pub and go home and cook the rest of my dinner, steak and various roasted veg. I intended to return to Hell's Waiting Room later with flyers for my poetry nights to give to the Russian lady, who had a rather engaging smile, and her fella.

Trouble is by the time I arrived back at the bar they'd gone, so I slipped into the pub's old music room - which is precisely where my former darling Posh Boots proposed marriage to me just over four years ago.

I could have got maudlin over that, especially on Valentine's night, but I didn't. The truth is there are lots of memories of great nights in that room which could make me sad, but I wasn't feeling melancholy, not even as a singleton on a night out on his own. On Valentine's night.

The music room is where the Bacardi Queen used to hold court, before she was barred by Mr Craggs the landlord. It's also where Pongo (RIP) used to play guitar and sing; it's where loads of us used to drink too much and shoot the breeze nightly.

I remember one night being in there with Popstar Paul when a bunch of lairy lesbians kicked off. Popstar and I had to escort a young lad and his girlfriend away to safety.

Then there were the rivalries between we cool middle-aged dudes and dudettes (who used the room most of the time) and the rather unfriendly older bingo women, led by Elvira Bittergob, who occupied the room on Thursdays.

Anyway, all those were mere memories as I sat there on Tuesday night. Alone in the music room. Single. On Valentine's night. Nursing a large red wine and doing a crossword - but happy enough actually.

Then I hear a familiar voice and, lo, in come Duncan Kindlyface and his lovely missus, Lady Di. They join me at the table and tell me about the romantic meal they'd just had in the restaurant next door, the Peninsula (modern British cuisine; I can recommend it).

Duncan had had a bit to drink so he was gently ribbing me about poetry. I didn't mind. We talked about life, romance, holiday destinations, families etc as we drank.

Those two wouldn't let me buy a drink at the bar, and then, after last orders, one of them (I can't remember which) suggested I go back to theirs for a nightcap.

Honestly, a singleton like me joining a married couple at home for a late drink on Valentine's night! Well, I did join them at home for a large brandy, as it goes, and enjoyed it and their company.

I also enjoyed a cuddle with their two dogs. It's the closest I get to romance these days ...

I then walked home and that final brandy worked its magic. I slept the deep sleep of the just and the innocent.

So cheers! Here's to happy couples!

And here's to single people, for whom, I'm convinced, there is a special place in the heart of God.