If it’s true that sailors have one in every port, then an awful lot of young ladies will be looking forward to next Tuesday with high expectation. If you need reminding, it’s Valentine’s Day and woe betide the lover who fails to send a token of affection to the one who is loved.

Tradition has it that February 14 is the day on which the birds choose their mates. Folklore also decrees that if a maiden sees a robin flying overhead on Valentine’s Day, she will marry a sailor, so she might well be the recipient of of one of the love tokens illustrated here.

These intricate boxed collections of gorgeous South Sea shells, each one delicately arranged in symmetrical patterns, were crafted by lovestruck sailors during the long months away from home and apart from their sweethearts.

Sorry, that’s another myth.

Valentine’s Day has always been big business, a walk down any High Street will prove the point. Shops are crammed with cards, trinkets, jewellery and other fripperies, in both good taste and bad, all designed to separate the gullible from their cash.

These so-called “sailor’s shell Valentines” are the 19th century equivalent, except that they are extraordinarily attractive, desirable and highly collected. They’re also expensive these days with some of the finest fetching £8,000-10,000. But they weren’t made by sailors.

Many wrongly assert that shell Valentines were made by lonely tars on board ship during their free time. Instead, their manufacture was a cottage industry in Barbados and the West Indies in the 1800s when islanders hit on the idea of turning the shells that abounded on their coasts into souvenirs for travellers.

In their day, these eye-catching trinkets were simply collections of colourful shells, but over time the entrepreneurial islanders realised that by including romantic messages and pink shell heart motifs, they were turned into love tokens.

Shells were arranged to spell out sentiments such as “Forget Me Not”; “When This You See, Remember Me” and “Forever and Ever”, although others simply declare themselves “A Gift from Barbados”.

Their construction is broadly similar. The intricate decorations of literally thousands of the tiny shells were protected by sheet of glass and set into shallow octagonal mahogany boxes acting as a frame. The box resembles the cases in which a ship’s compass would be kept.

They were sold separately, or hinged together to form a closed box. These so-called double Valentines are among the most desirable. They were made so that when closed, the shells were protected from the light and have thus retained their vibrant colours. Single examples in contrast have over the years been bleached by exposure to ultraviolet rays which can have a serious effect on their value.

The appearance of these shells designs coincided with a period in the early 19th century when European collectors became fascinated by the natural sciences. It was a time when Victorian sitting rooms were decorated with glass cases containing butterflies, stuffed birds and fossils and the shells, in their ready-made display cases, the Valentines were a perfect addition.

At this time Barbados was a regular stopping point for whalers and trading vessels which stopped there to take on supplies or to deliver cargo. With an eye on the main chance, sailors and possibly even their captains would have either collected shells for themselves or bought them from the islanders to sell on once they had returned home.

The exotic seashells would have been well received by the growing middle classes and soon it became an amusing pastime, particularly among the ladies, to arrange them into elegant floral découpage to be shown off under glass domes or hung on the wall.

Good sailor’s Valentines have become increasingly rare. Average examples can be had for £600-800, but exceptional examples can be 10 times that amount. Vibrant colours and attractive arrangements are the most sought after and beware double Valentines that have become separated. Holes in the outer case where hinges would have been fastened are a tell-tale sign.

It is also difficult to be certain that you’re buying something old. Whilst I am not aware that the things are being faked, very many sailor’s Valentines are younger than they appear. Close examination of the wood helps to a degree, and modern adhesives are easy to spot. As always, buy from reputable sources … and give with love.

Pictures show, top: One half of a double Valentine, this Victorian example was clearly intended as a love token because of the heart-shaped motif at its centre

Below, left to right: The wooden cases of sailor’s Valentines make natural frames for the display and also served to protect the shells during the long distances they travelled. They also protect the delicate shells from the effects of light. This example is worth £3,000-5,000

This geometric design is made up of tiny snail shells. It dates from the late 19th century and was probably intended as a natural history specimen

Larger exotic shells are a feature of this design, made more desirable because it is a double Valentine. It’s worth £4,000-6,000

It’s 1947, you’re travelling First Class aboard the Cunard White Star flagship RMS Queen Elizabeth and dinner is served. For starters, it’s oysters on the half shell, followed by clear turtle soup, turbot for the fish course and timable of ham. The roast sirloin of beef is accompanied by braised onions, fresh broccoli, globe artichokes and hollandaise sauce. Potatoes are ‘boiled, roast snow and Parisienne’.

Pudding is a choice of Seville souffl�, charlotte russe or praline parfait, or one could stick with the ices – vanilla, Neapolitan or pistachio. And to finish: fresh fruit, coffee and ‘Scotch Woodcock’. How do I know the menu? Simple, I have a copy of it.

Beautifully printed and decorated with an illustration on the cover – in this case, a view of the Scottish Highlands – and rescued by me from a car boot sale. Cost? A couple of pounds, if memory serves, and I snapped up seven others for similar money.

Of course, there are far more expensive ways of starting your own collection of menus. The entreaty in the Sunday papers reads ‘Book your place on your dream liner’. With a Christmas cruise to the Caribbean for 10 nights starting just at short of �5,000, sadly, any menus collected on the voyage would prove to be an expensive long term investment. Today, my Forties vintage menus might be worth perhaps �10-15 apiece.

But not only is a menu a charming collectable, there is no better memento of a meal to celebrate a special occasion, a memorable holiday or an important anniversary. Printed menus from such events should not be left on the table.

They first appeared in France at the beginning of the 19th century, possibly to mark the Peace of Amiens in 1802, which ended a decade of war against Britain.

Such examples were decorated delightfully with woodcut images of fruit and game and peaceful scenes of the French countryside and they were collected avidly by tourists.

However, Napoleon Bonaparte’s campaign was not far behind and peace did not last. Menus reflected the fact. During Boney’s era they were illustrated with scenes from his glorious military career.

By 1815, after Napoleon’s defeat at the Battle of Waterloo, the printed menu had become a social institution that the victorious British and their allies eagerly took back with them to their own countries.

In England, as elsewhere, Victorian diners glorified the menu and decorated with it flamboyant decoration, embossing and gold-edged finery.

However, the menu’s golden period followed the introduction of colour lithography in about 1840.

Hotels, restaurants and gentlemen’s clubs actively competed with each another to produce the most impressive menus with London’s Savage Club being among the most inventive.

Theirs were tours de force embroidered on satin or trimmed with lace!

Apart from the visual joy of old menus – they look charming mounted as a group and framed in the dining room – they are also fascinating records of social history describing the mountains of exotic foods our great grandparents enjoyed at great grand dinner parties.

Most sought after are those from early air and steamship travel, while famous restaurants such as the Savoy, often commissioned popular artists of the day to illustrate them.

Picture frames with sheets of glass front and back are a great way of displaying your collection, allowing you to enjoy the decoration on the cover without sacrificing the information inside.

Alternatively, use an album such as one for photographs, but don’t be tempted to paste them down. Instead, mount them with photographic corners. Like stamps, their value is negated if they are stuck.

Menus make a charming conversation piece – specially at a dinner party of your own, which leads me on to a related collecting subject: menu holders.

Visit a restaurant these days and the menu is generally brought to you by a waiter and taken away again after you have ordered.

In Victorian and Edwardian days, the menu stood on the table, held flag-like by some simple but usually ingenious device, so that it was always at hand.

Sometimes, the holders were nothing more than a plain metal disc with either a clip or a slot in to which the menu was pushed to hold it upright.

But then there were posh restaurants where everything on the diners’ tables followed a distinct design that echoed the style of the establishment and, of course, the prevailing fashion of the day.

Thus, a sober gentleman’s club, all leather armchairs and oak paneling, would chose matching menu holders, usually in silver with the mutest of decoration, possibly just the club crest and motto.

Upmarket city hotels and restaurants, on the other hand, would be sure to follow current fashion. When Art Nouveau was all the rage, menu holders would be far less understated than previously.

Expect to find flowing sensual examples, all flowers and femmes fleurs with exotic tendrils and complex curves (both plants and ladies!).

The arrival of the Art Deco era put an end to all that and fashionable restaurants were obliged to adopt the geometric zig-zags and odeonesque angles the fashion demanded.

Menu holders are found in a variety of materials including porcelain, ivory, glass and several different metals, notably hotel-quality electroplated base metal.

Examples of menu holders from such establishments rarely come on to the market in anything other than singles, the value of each of which depends on the quality of design and material from which it is constructed.

A simple glass or pot holder could be yours for a fiver, a good Deco example for �80-100 or more.

If it’s a set of menu holders you’re after, then a country house contents sale could provide the answer.

Preference was given to silver, silver gilt or good quality silver plate and the holders would have been produced in sets – usually cased – to match the table silver (or flatware, as it is called).

Chances are, such sets would have been handed down over several generations and often they are decorated with family mottoes and crests.

These make a fascinating area of research for today’s inquisitive collectors who, with a good reference library book listing such things, can often trace the development of a family and to discover exactly which branch or member ordered the menu holders and when.

Pictures show a group of menus from the Cunard White Star liner Queen Elizabeth, each dating from 1947. They cost me a fiver each