THE PERFECT DAY

The wonderful Sheila Templeton had a meditation seminar, then she went for a walk with a friend - then they went for chips! Afterwards, she wrote about it all, calling it perfection.

Years later, that poem made it's way into The Herald, where it was rightly lauded.

PERFECTION

We walked by the sea, to celebrate a job well done. The air was frosty-sharp and very still. 'It’s as if someone has positioned these clouds to be a backdrop for that', you said, pointing at the perfect rectangle of blazing red-gold dropped into its frame from the hidden sun. 'And the sea. Look at the sea'. Looking Was all we could do. Words were superfluous. Flat ocean, same milky glimmer as the opaline drops in my ears, both edged in cold silver and burning now with small flecks of fire. Perhaps it was time to turn back… how much beauty can two women stand? But we carried on. Sun fading, sea-pink draining colour, to the harbour, hopeful to find seals grown fat on fishermen's leavings. And discovered we could buy chips, proper chunky chips actually cut from a potato, that plant with farinaceous tubers used for food; chips which had never seen a freezer bag which took their time as they transformed from glutinous white slug-shapes to crisp browned salted vinegared perfection melting in our burned mouths as we walked back under the darkening sky.

Sheila Templeton

What's the closest you ever had to a perfect day? Remember, it doesn't need to be "high-concept". Everyday things, like chips, can make the experience more relatable.