perfect day

Every now and then comes along a day that in hindsight becomes one of life’s ‘perfect days’ they seem good at the time but it takes the slow passing of years and the loss of youth and innocence to mature them into fully formed perfection.

Sunshine is usually a contributory factor, followed by some good sex and if your lucky a drink or two, some decent food and a few laughs along the way. Many moons ago I enjoyed such a day with a lovely young filly who would go on to become Mrs Spimf. I was studying art in Dundee at that time, the earlier part of the day seemed a bit of a drag – I had some coursework to do – I suppose looking back I had an easy ride towards my degree, virtually no academic work, very few lectures to attend - life was good. I had a linocut to do over the weekend, hardly a 5000 word essay. The future Mrs Spimf had come to spend the weekend with me. So we decided to transform the task in hand into a day out, a picnic was prepared, some lino cutting tools and sketches thrown in a bag, and off we set. I say the early part of the day was a drag mainly because we were trying to find a spot to picnic, never an easy task for the fussy type I am – we were driving alongside the River Tay heading towards Perth to find an ideal spot, after a many aborted attempts and some deal of bickering we finally struck gold. A perfect spot. We could park the car away from the road – then a short hike across a meadow of long grass and wildflowers buzzing with bees and butterflies, which then opened to reveal small grassy clearing among the Bulrushes that proliferated along the banks of the silvery Tay. By now we were just outside Perth so the river was slow shallow and picturesque. It was a baking hot day in late spring with big white fluffy clouds on the horizon and clear blue skies above. After a while, and some initial trepidation on Mrs Spimf's part, we were naked on a rug, the sun had warmed the lino I was working with so the tools cut through it like butter. Soon enough my thoughts turned from lino tools - as I lay blissfully naked in the warm slender arms of my love a small prop engine plane buzzed lazily high above us. Mrs Spimf made a grab for her clothes and was more than slightly miffed when I laughed: “calm down there’s no way the could see us from up there”. This seemed to placate Mrs Spimf so much so I was soon enjoying some more alfresco action – right up to the point the fuckers came tearing over the trees at the edge of the meadow, so low we could see their leering faces in the cockpit. bastards.

Still a perfect day – and a buzz too.
( spimf ™ is whoever you want him to be, Sat 25 Apr 2009, 10:08, Reply)