One of these days I will wake early to catch an early morning run before breakfast. I will enjoy real, fresh ground filter coffee at weekends, with a book to keep me company, rather than the morning news.
I will own a smart diary, and it will be filled with all of the dates I currently keep in my head, written with a smart propeller pencil. This will be stored in my handbag, along with my purse (always containing enough change), a pack of mints and a tub of lip gloss (no more than one year old).
One of these days I will arrive at work without a drop of mud on my trousers, hair in place and ready to take on the world. During the commute I will read all the things I've been meaning to read, laughing out loud at all the right moments.
My life will be drizzled with the best extra virgin olive oil, usually accompanied by a bed of the freshest, spiciest green leaves (currently loving watercress and rocket, but who knows what else is out there). The wine rack (there will be a wine rack) will be filled with interesting new world wines, brought back from our travels to Chile, South Africa and New Zealand. There will also be ciders from France, and probably still a bottle of champagne leftover from my 21st birthday.
Wine will be a staple in my daily life, along with plump green olives and homemade bread (both drizzled with olive oil). Opening a bottle during the week will no longer be controversial or 'a bit too wild'; instead this will be the norm - any leftovers can be frivolously added to a risotto, or a pasta sauce.
One of these days we will print out the amazing photos from the Lake District, all in sepia or black and white, and these will be framed and hung up around the back wall in the lounge. We will sit quietly reading together on the couch, or writing letters on smart paper while Brahms sounds from the record player.
Our board games collection will go beyond Twister and Pazazz, with a vintage Scrabble box, Monopoly and Trivial Pursuit. We might even get a draughts board, who knows. My knitting basket will be filled with exciting projects - socks, cardigans, maybe even a Fair Isle jumper - and these will not all be for me, but will be planned out and completed in time for friends' birthdays.
I will have a chutney recipe for every occasion, all personalised with my own 'special ingredient'. The recipe won't be shared with anyone, until my own children take an interest in chutney-making, when it will become one of those special family secrets.
Every meal will involve fresh herbs, plucked straight from the garden. I will make my own vegetarian pesto, and sprinkle fresh homegrown coriander on everything I eat. There will be wooden chimes in the garden (the ones that make that lovely clunky sound), and two fat guinea pigs in a run, happy to eat all of our vegetable peelings.
I will attend a yoga class in the evenings, and will make yoga-ing friends to meet up with at the weekend. We will share wine or tea, and sit for hours discussing environmental issues, or whether there really is a place for feminism in our society. I might even join a book group.
One of these days I'll stop drinking nasty sachets of hot chocolate in the evenings, and will instead stick to calmomile tea. I'll fall alseep with a book, still wearing my glasses, in silk matching pyjamas that haven't been burned by my old radiator. And they will be comfortable and won't cause static, so I'll never have to resort to my old t-shirt and four-sizes-too-big bottoms that I love so much.