And February blows in, bringing with it that certain sense of love in the air. Hallmark commercials go into overtime, perhaps attempting to sell us on plush toy bears that kiss each other whilst electronically beeping an Al Green tune. Shop shelves fill with cheap chocolates in heart-shaped boxes covered in bright red, embossed foil. Restaurants fill to overflowing with couples out to celebrate their special connections. And all of it is supposed to have a sweet and more-or-less innocent feel about it — and I suppose that it does, providing, of course, that you accept the definition of love in the Western world: love is money. Just as, at different times of the year, money becomes the birth of a Savior, or the birth of a loved one. But just at this time of the year, money becomes love and love is that most wonderful and personal of chores that drives people collectively mad.