Sadly, no: the piece was about the recent resurgence in the Victorian-era tradition of using flowers to convey specific hopes and feelings. It seems there’s an “ancient floral language” whereby certain flowers represent certain things.

It’s all been rebooted somewhat by Kate Middleton’s royal bridal bouquet: apparently Kate chose lily of the valley for trustworthiness, myrtle for hope, sweet william for gallantry and white hyacinth for enduring love. And here’s me thinking she chose sweet William for never having to pay for parking ever again.

They call this floral language “floriography” and it’s a bit like calligraphy in that it ends with “graphy” and is, I think, a bit of a wank.** Don’t get me wrong: I love giving and receiving flowers. I just usually let the accompanying cards do the talking, especially if they’re complimentary (as in, free).

The very act of sending someone flowers sends a message, obviously: “I love you”, “I’m sorry”, “Get well” and “Check out how awesome I am” to name just a few. Although sometimes these messages can get lost. I remember a Valentine’s Day back in my all-girls high school when my year 10 maths class was interrupted by the delivery of a dozen roses to one of my classmates. As every other girl sat with mouth agape and jealousy rising because 1) this girl obviously had a boyfriend and 2) he was giving her flowers as opposed to giant hickies, one bright spark up the back yelled out “I wish my dad would send me flowers on Valentine’s Day!” Ouch.

Anyhoo, now that the Valentine’s Day roses we all sent last week are on the wilt, here’s what you could have sent instead, according to floriography:

Secret admirer? You should have sent the object of your stalking – sorry, affections – a bunch containing jonquils (desire), acacia (secret love), cyclamen (timid hope) and, believe it or not, asparagus (fascination). Although if you’re going to send someone asparagus, perhaps it’s best to enclose some recipes, too.