The Perfect Day

Opening his eyes he sees that the sun is already shining through the curtains. 

Turning his head he sees it is 6:00 a.m.. 

He has an hour before she arrives.

Closing his eyes again he allows his mind to drift 

He imagines getting out of bed at 9:30, late enough to feel refreshed but early enough to make the most of this day, he heads to the kitchen.

Crispy bacon between two white slices of bread which must be accompanied by brown sauce, a fresh, warm croissant with damson jam and coffee are a must. 

He will devour this feast sitting at the table which offers a view of the garden which will be in full summer bloom. His blue hydrangea still the jewel in the garden with geums and salvias blowing in a gentle breeze at its side. 

The day will promise to be warm. 25° c. Perfect.

Perhaps later he will spend time pruning and tidying, stopping for the occasional cold drink, perhaps even a beer. 

Breakfast finished would he shower or would he read the paper for a while? 

The paper wins and being a Sunday there would be a choice of supplements and of course he will listen to Desert Island Discs on Radio 4.

After a shave and a long shower he imagines a late pub lunch by the river with his mum, sister and nephews and recalls the smiles and laughter which always accompanied these family gatherings. 

Climbing into his favourite car, top down, Pink Floyd playing on the radio he will detour through local villages enjoying the freedom and appreciating the scenery, summer sounds and summer smells. 

And as this Perfect Day draws to a close, he will sit in his garden, Irish whisky in his hand, straight with no ice and watch the sun set. 

Then as if on cue, he hears the key in the door. 

He opens his eyes and waits for the familiar, friendly voice announce that she has arrived and that she is on her way up.

And so his day begins.

A dependant life.

A monotonous life. 

A lonely life.

Once dressed and fed he will be made comfortable in his lounge, in front of the TV with the remote and a drink easily accessible and there he will stay until she returns. 

She will later ask what he has watched on the TV and he will politely answer her questions, although not a second of the flickering pictures or the hum of voices will have filled any of his time.

Instead, he will have once more closed his eyes and recalled memories of his earlier life and of people long gone. 

Perhaps one time she will be able to stay a little longer and listen to tales of his life well lived but today will end, as it does every day, with a meal, a drink and help to retire to bed with only sleep and memories to pass the time until the light once more streams in through the curtains.