EXCITEMENT is mounting at Weekender Towers as preparations get under way for one of the most eagerly awaited days in the calendar.

Because next week it is Pancake Day.

Sorry, but if you were hoping I would choose St Valentine's Day, stop reading now.

When it comes to a celebration, the classic flour, milk and eggs combo beats flowers, chocolates and kisses every time, and whatever it is that women buy men on February 14 too.

I've never received even a St Valentine's Day card, let alone a present in commemoration of an old, dead saint, so I don't know what are the favoured gifts from the female-to-male side of the equation.

Anyway, nothing can beat the sizzling sound created when pancake mixture meets hot fat, and the anticipation of flipping the pancake over.

Then of course, it's onto the plate, slap on an accompaniment of your choice - you can't beat freshly squeezed orange juice in my opinion - and down the hatch.

How much more satisfying is that than buying an obscenely overpriced bunch of flowers and a sickly card, or forking out for an expensive meal out, or cooking something 'special' at home?

By 'special' I mean trying to follow a fancy recipe from a cookbook you've not opened before, despite getting it as a Christmas present in 2004.

You know, something incredibly difficult to get right, but hey, it's St Valentine's Day, I'm concentrating really hard, what can possibly go wrong?

Pretty much everything is the answer, so as well as being out of pocket on the flowers and the ingredients, you'll be out of favour with your other half as well.

It's not worth the hassle, and as St Valentine's Day has been hijacked by an increasingly ravenous retail sector as yet another special occasion on which the customer can be milked dry financially, I do not recognise it.

Lady Weekender is aware of my stance, and has been for many years, and as I'm still alive and have no cutlery sticking out of my back, I can only assume she agrees with me.

So, back to the pancakes. Flour, eggs, milk. Even in these days of rising food prices, this is an incredibly cheap shopping list. Add a couple of oranges and it's still rattling good value. And even if you cop out and buy a ready prepared pancake mix, it still won't make your wallet cry.

Pancake Day also roundly ignores the all-pervasive health and safety culture that has sprung up in recent years. Basically, you have a hot frying pan full of hot pancake mixture. You attempt to toss it in a cramped kitchen where, given the unusual nature of the event, other people are likely to be standing watching.

It's all in the wrist, as my grandfather used to say, and he survived 89 Pancake Days, so he knew a fair bit about it.

So, roll on Tuesday February 12 - and if you're worried about cancelling St Valentine's Day, why not suggest combining the two, as they are so close together this year?

Like I said earlier, what can possibly go wrong?

Out with the old iron

I AM not fond of cats, and so greet with no little dismay the decision by the makers of Monopoly to replace the old iron token with a slinky feline one.

Quite why they picked on the iron to replace when the others - racing car, Scottie dog, thimble, top hat and battleship - are arguably more out of date, is beyond me.

By contrast, the iron is an instantly recognisable, universal symbol. The only thing obsolete about it is that no-one these days uses an old flat iron on their clothes. So why not update it with a modern model?

But no, it apparently had to go, and so now we have what appears to be an immensely smug-looking cat in its place, the sort of cat that if you saw it leaving its, er, mark in your garden, you might be quite - no, make that very - tempted to lug the nearest piece of footwear available in its general direction.

I have not played Monopoly in many years, but if the time comes again, I will not be choosing the cat as my guide around the board. I might even save an old iron token to take with me for the occasion, just for tradition's sake.