Now then.
With Valentine’s Day creeping up like a dramatic interval ice cream seller, I’ve been asked — more than once, I might add — what a Yorkshire postwoman with a bicycle, a satchel and a suspicious amount of theatre gossip does on the most romantic day of the year.
Well.
First of all, I do not spend my life on trains.
I have a bicycle.
A very reliable one.
Strong tyres. Good stamina. Much like its rider.
Yes, I travel the country delivering theatrical whispers and first-class reviews, but I do it properly — with grit, pedals and a coat that flaps heroically in the wind. If love can’t keep up with that, it’s not love, it’s cardio.
Now, am I single?
Let’s say this: the satchel is currently occupied by press releases, fan mail (which I deeply appreciate, handwritten preferred), and the occasional chocolate biscuit. It is not yet occupied by a love letter sealed with wax.
But I remain open to correspondence.
You see, I have the pulse of theatres up and down this country. I know which shows are about to explode, which playwrights are about to transfer, and which venues have the best interval crisps. I can sense a five-star run before opening night. I can smell a hit from the back row.
Surely that instinct must work for romance too?
Valentine’s Day, for me, won’t be candlelit clichés. It’ll be theatre lights. Maybe a review about tragic love. Maybe a comedy about heartbreak. Maybe me cycling home under street lamps, thinking about whether the second act quite landed.
I don’t need roses.
I need range.
I don’t need chocolates.
I need someone who understands why opening night nerves are romantic.
And if a certain someone were to send a witty note, perhaps referencing a particularly sharp piece I’ve written… well. I wouldn’t object.
Dating as a roaming theatre postie isn’t straightforward.
“Where do you see this going?”
“Currently? Up a hill. Into a strong headwind.”
But there’s something romantic about it all. The glow of a marquee. The quiet before curtain up. The feeling that something might change in the next two hours.
Until further notice, I remain gloriously single, gloriously independent, and highly suspicious of anyone who says they “don’t really like theatre”.
Valentine’s Day may belong to couples.
But I deliver all year round.
And if the right admirer is waiting at the stage door…
I’ll ring the bell twice.
Love (and logistics),
Grace x
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