It Doesn’t Get Any Better Than This

My wife and I

Are sitting in the evening sunshine

In the Place d’Hotel de Ville, in Loches,

And I’m thinking

Life doesn’t get any better than this.

An Orleans Jazz Band

Is playing on the corner

They are very good indeed

I sip my glass of red and think

Life doesn’t get any better than this.

Then an old friend sits beside us

And she rests her head

On my shoulder

And I get a whiff of Sex with Jennifer (1967)

And I’m thinking

Life doesn’t get any better than this.

And a text comes through

We have a massive win

On the Euromillions

And I’m thinking

Life really doesn’t get any better than this.

The evening sun

The music

And Paul McCartney and Adele

Are strolling past

They see us, come over

And sing us an impromptu duet

Of a song Paul composes

For us, on the spot

And I’m thinking

Life doesn’t get any better than this.

But they have a date

At La Flèche d’Or in Paris

Playing to an intimate gathering

Of the world’s movers and shakers

They leave, with our friend

And I get another text,

The win on the Euromillions

Was only a few Euros after all

Now the band play their last number

And begin to pack away

And we finish the bottle of wine

The last of the sun

Slips from the apricot sky

Darkening the ancient buildings

Of warm stone

And wife and I

Look into one another’s eyes

And kiss

And I’m thinking,

Do you know what?

It really was a great shame about

that text.