Valentines Day. A day, like pretty much every other Western Festival, that has lost its way in the commercial rush. It is a day for shopkeepers, florists, stationers, and restaurants to make money. But it is also a day for love. It depends on how you look at it. I can suspend my cynicism at the crass money-making side of it pretty easily if I know that my wife thinks it is important. And my wife does, for having been largely deprived of the benefits of romance in Thailand for such a long time, she craves it now.

So yesterday we joined the throng in the city looking for a place to eat. Ann had a shop selected, Mamak Malay Restaurant in Goulburn Street, but their policy was no reservations. First in best dressed meant that we needed to move swiftly from Ann's college to be there for the opening at 5.30pm. When we arrived the queue already stretched down past Meet Fresh at the end of Dixon Street, so we joined it.

A few minutes later we were seated in a romantic location as waiters and other staff roamed the floor, dispensing water bottles, menus and taking orders. It was a brilliantly well-organised operation, for about 70 people had all just walked in the door and were now being swiftly accommodated. The food was glorious - Malay salads, delicious lightly-puffed roti and skewers with spicy satay sauce. Aroy dee.

In the queue and in the shop.