After a busy week of late nights doing shows, on weekend mornings I really like to give myself that extra time in bed to recuperate and rejuvenate, so I'll get up at 6.30 instead of 6.00, and ... TO HELL WITH THE WORLD!
I recently discovered that being a "Morning Person" is, in fact, a genetic disposition, and that in the future it might be possible, via biohacking, to edit my wife's genetic code, so that she too would enjoy getting up at 4.45am on a Saturday to surf Long Beach Kommetjie.
On my perfect weekend all three children would either a) sleep in (imagine!), b) look after themselves (imagine!) or c) want to come surfing with me/us. I'd like to have one of those awesome Instagram accounts where the Dad has his three kids and the dog on the board with him, performing airs and 360s and stuff, and then throws them off the board so he can enjoy a wave in peace. In a perfect world I'd get a gazillion likes for that, and my social-media-induced dopamine levels would hit a new high.
What usually happens on weekend mornings is that I get to enjoy watching my two sons fight and we're Jewish, so by fight I mean argue and cry ... over a game of chess.
I do sometimes surf on weekends but actually I prefer to do it during the week to remind myself (and everyone else) that I'm not a nine-to-five guy.
But back to perfection: Post surf I'd head to C'est La Vie in Fish Hoek. They make the best chocolate croissants, and other breads, like sourdough, which we used to feed to the ducks at Jonkershuis, before duck feeding was banned (after the Constantia ducks developed a gluten intolerance).
Then a swim in the Dalebrook Tidal Pool (situated between St. James and Kalk Bay on "Roadworks Drive"), followed by a cup of Damn Fine Coffee and a few of Bob's Bagels' bagels.
On Sunday we'd head up the West Coast in our solar-powered, organically cooled, vegan-friendly 4x4 to Churchhaven, where, because we can't afford a Perfect Hideaway because of "The Recession", we all sleep in a one-room shack called Joors Donken, or Pappa Dokkies, or Auntie Katie's - basically something "rustic" overlooking the lagoon.
For lunch I'll settle for a hammock, a book and a nap. I'd read what I'm reading now, Rob Rose's Steinheist, to prepare for my comedy set/"motivational talk" at Thys du Toit's 60th "Stellenostra"-themed birthday party. Or perhaps Yuval Noah Harari's 21 Lessons for the 21st Century if I want to feel depressed about my future as a non-robot comedian in the year 2030.
One page in I'd be interrupted by someone looking for a charger because they desperately need to play Slitherio right this minute and the phone is dead and the end of the world is nigh.
I'd tell them to be grateful that we have no electricity or cellphone reception, which I don't think they would be because I'd keep hearing "I HATE MY DAD", which would be somewhat hurtful but I'd remind myself that it doesn't matter because Rabbi Green would be happy that we are keeping the Sabbath, kind of, and it's really only his approval I am seeking, despite my agnostic tendencies.
Oh wait, this article is called "My Perfect Weekend" not "Worst Weekend of my Life" - let me get back on track.
Around "skemer se tyd toe die son agter die berge weg trek" ("sunset" sounds so much more romantic in Afrikaans), I'd braai the yellowtail (or aforementioned sustainable fish option) under the tree, and vape a little of my friend Cool Hand's Candyland, which is good for giggling.
Then my wife would remind me she doesn't eat fish, so I'd have to hunt in the bush for something and all we'd find would be a tortoise. So she'd go to bed hungry. But pleased that the straws haven't killed ALL the tortoises. Then we could just lie outside in the hammock, under the stars, listening to nothing but the call of nature, and maybe a distant ghetto blaster belonging to a fisherman down by the boathouse.
• Nik Rabinowitz will present 'DRY WHITE' at the Baxter Concert Hall, Cape Town, from December 18 to January 12. Tickets are available from Webtickets...