Such a perfect day

Recently I have been thinking about how much time I spend lounging on the sofa watching TV. Just by writing that sentence I have outed myself as a person with too much time on her hands. I loved Call My Agent! – that addictive French series about a talent agency in Paris – but I have calculated that it took exactly 24 hours to watch all four seasons. That is a whole day of my life spent completely absorbed in the fictional antics of those argumentative, amorous French people. Not literally a whole day since I didn’t watch all the episodes back to back (sometimes you need to do other things like take a shower or feed the cat), but I do wonder if it was time well spent. Would I take it back and do something else with that day if I could?

A day in lockdown is not the same as a “normal” day, so given the many restrictions on our lives, it was probably not a bad way to pass the time. I suppose instead I could have been weeding the garden, doing a vigorous online boxing workout or reading an improving book (The Growth Delusion by David Pilling is sitting there judging me as I write), but obviously that was never going to happen – otherwise it would have. But it did make me wonder what a perfect day would look like, if I could spend it any way I wanted.

It wouldn’t involve screens of any sort. I wouldn’t check my email, texts or even the weather forecast. I’d stick my nose outside and judge the weather for myself, then put sunglasses, an umbrella and a scarf in my bag, just in case. I’d choose the perfect book, written by an author whose company I enjoy such as Jane Gardam or Bill Bryson, and then take a train somewhere I’d never been before, like Whitstable or Casablanca.

The first thing I’d do when I got there would be to find a café that served delicious coffee and apple spiced muffins – freshly baked in Canada, obviously – which I’d enjoy in the company of Jane or Bill. Then I’d wander about, marvelling at everything and taking photos of the seafront or the souks, depending on where I was. I’d meet a friend for lunch in a charming restaurant that served imaginative vegetarian food and frosty glasses of sparkling Crémant de Bourgogne. We’d talk, eat, drink and laugh for such a long time that the staff would be setting the tables around us for dinner. A short nap would then be taken on the elegant chaise longue thoughtfully provided in the comfortable little sitting room tucked behind the main dining area. Revived, I’d head off to visit a museum, art gallery or perhaps a mosque (just as well I packed a scarf). I’d discover a little shop down an obscure back street where local artisans were selling exquisite textiles and ceramics (preferably not made in China). A cup of tea would probably be drunk at some point. Most importantly, face masks wouldn’t feature and social distancing would be a phrase I’d never heard before.

_{Mosques, Etching by Meg Dutton}

All that’s left to do before I take the train home again is to seek out a cosy little Lebanese restaurant for dinner. My husband would be there when I arrived, the wine already sparkling in its glasses and a big bowl of baba ganoush, smoky and smooth, waiting to be scooped up on warm pita bread. Sigh.

Back in the real world, as of next week we’ll be allowed to meet up to six people for a meal at a pub or restaurant, as long as we’re happy to sit outside, which we are. I think we’d sit in a motorway layby if it meant being with people again. Right now I’m busy organising a very chilly dinner with some friends and I can’t wait. It definitely beats watching 24 hours of Call My Agent!  I’ve moved on. Pretty soon I’ll be on that train.