A summer job I would like to have.

I would very much enjoy to be a sort of tourist guide, though by “tourist guide” I don’t mean a person who walks around with a group Japanese and speaks to them in English through a sophisticated audio system, waving an umbrella so they don’t get lost and telling them where the nearest McDonald’s is. Oh no, in order to make you understand, what sort of tourist guide I would like to be, I will have to describe my ideal clients:
It’s summer, temperatures run from 25 to 33 degrees Celsius. A welsh professor of Medieval History, Mr. Martin Fairfax (good-looking 60), his charming wife Juliet (57), and their good friend, Reverend Murphy of Whitney (approaching 70) decide to take a 3 month tour of Poland. They are to stay in Kazimierz Dolny for tree weeks, and will be needing a full-time local guide. I am assigned to them 24/7 for the whole tree weeks. Of course, as the whole idea is a bit idealized, we must assume that I have my driver’s licence already.
So, on the first day I make the one hour drive to the airport in the Jaguar xjr which my clients have arranged for beforetime. After the greetings at the airport I drive them to Kazimierz, and establish them in a hotel of my choice. Of course, the conversation during the trip is very high-end and cultured, everybody is perfectly charmed; they approve of the hotel I’ve chosen. We are to meet in the patio at 9am, and discuss the program for the days to come. At 10pm I leave my clients happy at the hotel, and don’t need to worry about them until the next day. The car, of course, remains at my disposal.

My job is to find and arrange activities for my clients, as I am a ‘local’ I know many places and people to which casual tourists have no access. I arrange a tour of the town under the guidance of a history of art professor I well know, I arrange with the parson for my guests to be shown in to the crypt, attic and organ level of the church, I make them meet the local artists. A canoe trip down the river and horseback riding to the nearby villages are some other of my ideas. I also drive them around the whole province, showing the most important sights.
Every day is different, I get to speak with educated people, learn new things, catch a welsh-scholar accent, drive a fast car, and eat an English breakfast every day. I get paid more than you thing I would; after their departure they are all so charmed with me, that they leave me the car.
After tree months I get a letter, saying that dear Mr. Fairfax has past away, and according to his will I am to inherit his residences in West New Hampshire and Devon, with shares in oil companies worth some sixty million pounds.