An Ideal Day - #bloganuary

My ideal day starts in a beautiful bedroom where I wake early under linen sheets and a cosy eiderdown. Someone has left tea in a china cup for me and as I sip I enjoy the view through the window. Hills in the distance with trees along the ridge, fields in the middle distance with sheep dotted across them, a sparkling river weaves its way through the meadows where cows munch lush grass and willows dip their leaves into the slow-moving shallows.

Breakfast is taken on the terrace - porridge and toast with creamy butter and thick-cut marmalade. More tea poured from a silver teapot while a fluffy orange cat winds around the legs of my chair. The unobtrusive staff clear the table and I write letters, read and make notes for my next best-selling novel. The morning is warm and the scent of the flowers is heady. I stir myself for a stroll around the garden before lunch.

A crisp linen tablecloth adorns the table and I dine on salad, wafer-thin sandwiches and fruit with a couple of cocktails and sparkling water to wash it all down. My companion is witty, urbane and drop dead gorgeous. We laugh and gossip until mid-afternoon when I retire to the library and dash off a few chapters of my next blockbuster. 

Before dinner I fit in a nap, waking for tea and cake which magically appear on the bedside table. My dressing fairy has laid out a stunning Schiaparelli gown for me to wear. I spend far too long in a deep bubble bath and slip effortlessly into silky underwear and my violet frock. I spin around before the mirror, wonder if I can pull off such a daring colour and decide that I certainly can!

My dinner guests are assembled in the drawing-room sipping gin when I sweep into the room to audible gasps. We chat before the gong sounds and a tall, tanned handsome butler leads us into the dining room. The food is splendid, all my favourite flavours of mushroom and cheese with far too much bread. We sip fine wine and strong coffee after dessert which is rich and chocolatey. Someone plays the piano and we wander onto the terrace. Some people dance, some take a turn through the garden and I sit on a Lloyd Loom chair and share a couple of chapters of one of my novels. Later, after my guests have departed my handsome butler brings me hot chocolate and truffles. I retire, shedding my clothes onto the floor, secure in the knowledge that they will be picked up and looked after while I sink into my bubble bath. I'm drowsy and warm, happy as a clam and ready for bed. Slipping into satin pyjamas I slide into bed, sigh and dream of the most perfect day.