Here’s the story of a perfect Saturday. Or, occasionally, a Sunday.

Ailish and I would wake up far too early, and this was entirely my fault. You see, I find it really hard to sleep in, now that I’m all old. We’d go downstairs, pick up the paper, find the most recent Economist, grab a cup of coffee, and sit outside and read. We’d share interesting articles, chat about the world, but mostly just quietly enjoy each other’s company.

After a while, it was time for bacon. Actually, a whole meal; bacon, poached eggs, toast, some juice, more coffee, a bit of cheese, and salsa or ketchup, depending on who was eating. Ailish handled the bacon, I handled the eggs and the coffee. I set the table, but I’d always forget things.

We always ate the meal at the kitchen table, but afterwards, retreated to the living room for some t.v. Law and Order? Boston Legal? Some sort of BBC nature documentary? Whatever.

Then, nap time! Because any successful weekend has to involve a nap, don’t you know? I was never very good at naps. See, according to Ailish, an ideal nap had to happen on a weekend and ideally had to last for two hours. I occasionally made it to an hour, but more often, only managed 45 minutes or so, much to Ailish’s consternation. I tended to fill up the extra time with computer games, though I’d sometimes sneak back into the bed for more napping, and Ailish would always give me a dozy smile.

Post-nap, it was probably time for a board game. Settlers of Catan, ideally, though sometimes I could convince Ailish to play Small World, sometimes she could convince me to play Scrabble. Or maybe Bananagrams. We would play a few games, then perhaps, if the weather was good, go for a walk. Our neighbourhood has a number of lakes (actually, storm-water runoff ponds, but hey). Sometimes we’d see the ducks. Sometimes we’d listen to kids playing on the street. Sometimes we’d sit on a bench and talk about life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And sometimes I would hold her hand and she would beam.