The Perfect Day For. . . . .

A cold, wet, blustery day. Perfect for sitting in an ancient old armchair. Close to a blazing fire. A cup of good strong coffee resting on the wide, flat armrest. A book in hand. Perhaps Maurice Gee's Going West. Or Kingsolver's Animal Dreams.
Maybe a game of two-handed 500. A glass of port each. Good natured rivalry. The same blazing fire, of course. Ciabatta and kalamata olives to satisfy any pre-lunch peckishness.
Or, how about this: Fire. Taking companionable turns at reading aloud to each other. A bottle apiece. Monteith's Pilsner to wet the tongue and smooth delivery. Might be a Roald Dahl short story. Like Pig. Or Parson's Pleasure. Something with a little black twist at the end.
Or, perhaps a hot bath. The extra long, extra deep cast iron variety. Full to just below the overflow hole. Hot tap slowly adding a continuous stream of steamy water. Van Morrison on the stereo.
Alternatively, the bathtub might be outside. Heated by a wood fire. A plank of wood in the bottom (to avoid burns). The fire maintaining a deliciously steady heat. Only one's head exposed as rain pours from the sky.