Improbable, you say? In a land of fog and a time of no boyfriends or husbands, the destiny of a great patisserie rests on the shoulders of one woman: Brittany.Sunlight filters through an open balcony into a cozy, white, bed and breakfast room, occupied by two. The air outside is crisp and Autumn is just around the corner so it's not so hot, but it hasn't grown cold, yet. But, then, the weather's always fairly moderate in Bristol. After a delicious breakfast, the balance laying mostly towards bacon, my lover must depart. He is, after all, quite well known, and just out of a relationship. It would not do him well in the presses to be seen with me. I don't take it personally--I have lovelier people to meet than James Phelps. I drive back to London, going round to mine to get a change of clothes. My roommate, Haiyue (a lawyer, born and raised in England and the convincing factor for moving in the first place) reminds me to call the patisserie I own, letting them know I'll be in later that afternoon. After a shower, I change into designer clothes, in purples and browns, and head out to meet my friends.Benedict and Elizabeth are at the little cafe I love so much. When I walk up, Benedict is asking about Elizabeth's latest novel, a bestseller here and in the states, coincidentally one of his favorites. I question, again, when she's going to move here and Benedict, too, is curious. My patisserie has gotten me in touch with all the right people since Liz (my best friend since high school, now an up-and-coming filmmaker) featured it in her hit cerebral film. Having my friends here would just be the icing on the cake (pun intended). Benedict asks if Elizabeth would like a tour around any places she hasn't already seen and I'm amazed she's keeping her calm so well. I'm not sure she's an 'okay' to live here, but she'll certainly be visiting more if there's someone who wants to pay the bill.I head to the patisserie and examine everyone's work. Along with the usual stock, two cakes and specialized tarts for an event the owners did not wish to specify (oh, elitists) are to be finished by the end of the week. The store is busy and smells amazing. Celebrities and working men and women come to my shop and I LOVE MY JOB.I go home after a long day and cuddle up with Haiyue on the couch. We eat failed chocolate mousse creations and she complains that I never drink her kind of alcohol. At 9, Elizabeth (who is staying with us for her visit) stumbles onto this positively domestic scene, a bottle of wine and a goofy smile on her face. Clearly I am the world's greatest match-maker.I pour her a drink and she retells the events her date, to Haiyue's mixed jealousy and delight. I get a call from Liz--it's mid-afternoon where's she's filming and leave to take it. I'm happy because life never stops, but there are those seemingly perfect days where everything goes right for everyone I love and no one comes home, crying.And now you know why I don't write RPF my perfect day.