It's a beautiful Sunday morning. The cheerful paper boy has delivered your copy of the Sunday Times and you've carefully arranged the sections in the order you'd like to read them. There's a picture of James May on the cover of the Driving Section, a London house you'll never be able to afford on the Home section and Joanna Lumley stares up at on from the front of the Travel section. Your two puppy dogs are entertaining themselves; one is rolling on their back making that "gruff gruff" noise as it moves it's head side by side and the other is doing that thing where they scrape their arse along the floor by propelling itself with it's front legs. Your three kids (two boys and a girl, the girl is the middle child) are making a den in the living room using sheets they found in the airing cupboard. There's a bit of commotion as the girl insists on putting her Little Tikes Play Kitchen in the den but the boys want to create a dinosaur pit in the same area. You strike a compromise by suggesting that the kitchen stays outside otherwise the dinosaurs might escape and run amok inside the house. This makes the girl child very happy and she prepares you a cup of pretend air tea for you to enjoy. She makes a few kettle noises before handing you an empty blue plastic cup with a green saucer. Your finger can't fit through the handle but you pretend to drink it anyway, making slurping noises and letting out a big "ahh" when finished. You switch on your 50" Samsung 4K TV and flick through the sport channels until you settle on a pedestrian sport such as golf of or cricket. You frustratedly pull across one of the heavy velvet curtains to block the sunlight coming through your sashed window which is reflecting on the screen. Triumphantly you sit in your favourite arm chair and start reading the paper. You're about half way through reading Adam Bolton's column when the smell of a full English fry-up being prepared by your wife drifts up your nostrils which, incidentally, need trimming before you head to the office tomorrow. Your wife is few years younger than you and has let herself go in recent years by not dying her hair as often as she used to and is now a size 16, but you can't complain because you're starting to bald and your shoulders aren't as square as they used to be. But your sex life remains as fantastic as it did when you first met through mutual friends at a BBQ one sunny Saturday afternoon nine years ago. You'll never forget that moment when your hands touched when you both went to grab the last piece of chicken. If you had never offered the chicken to her, you probably won't have this idilic life. Your wife calls through from the kitchen,
"Love. LOVE! There's not enough beans and plum tomatoes for everybody. What would you prefer?"
Faced with the dilemma of either baked beans or plum tomatoes, which one would you go for?
"Love. LOVE! There's not enough beans and plum tomatoes for everybody. What would you prefer?"
Faced with the dilemma of either baked beans or plum tomatoes, which one would you go for?
