With the warm sun streaming in through the window I would wake quite early, so I would take my breakfast back to bed with yesterday's papers then take a long hot bath. The housework would have been done, so I would be free to dress simply - I remember one summer when I just threw on a pair of shorts and a clean shirt and I was out - and go out into the garden. Summer is a time for slowing the pace, so the rest of the morning - if there was any left - I would read in the garden. A long lunch - French cheese and grapes and crusty bread, maybe a beer or a glass of wine - then a nap under the trees. More reading and more sitting in the garden, then a light evening meal outside with a beer or three and maybe more wine. Then I would sit with my glass and watch the sun go down, lighting the garden candles as the light failed and the swifts and swallows were replaced by bats and owls from the woods. The garden would grow gently chilly and I would be driven indoors, to go to bed at about 10pm.
But in truth I would probably be restless, if not bored. I am not used to such leisure, such deliberate inactivity. I am not one of those people who sits on a beach on their holidays, I need things to do. I would like to be that quiet reader in the garden with his wine, but his inactivity would probably irritate me!
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