Love Over The Lake

My lover had invited me to Zurich Switzerland. At the time I had a country town lifestyle. This unique overload comprised of two young sons still doing circles around the diastrsously dull London school circuit. Apart from one educational arcade, which was a school with the initials LW. It always came up Trumps. Saved me from the dark side of London vampirism. My other sucklings hanging onto my hem hanging from my coat, be two dogs plus a running stream of cats. Filtering into my then, rather plush London Primrose Hill nest. We all get lucky sometimes. Topping the tip of my haven of animalistic quarters was one horse called Asti -Charade. I’d been given the mare as a wooing love token by a great British gent chasing me morning, noon and night. Never pushed me to bend over, or under anything. Speaking in romantic quartets. He became rather a figurative of my butler - stroke - groom. A male nanny too. One doesn’t know how fortunate one is until the page turns.

It comes to pass Zurich beckoned me, I was bestowed to arrive by a London flight. Namely a plane. My lover that I’d have given my right arm for, back in the days. He’d booked a romantic room in a high class hotel right by the lake in Zurich. Incidently a circus stood on the lake at the time. It was like arriving in fairyland. A true spectacle of colour. Be it, I had fought hook line and sinker to organise myself to be in destination Zurich fairyland. I soaked in the enchantingly beautiful surrounds like a breath of fresh air. My lover and I then took a stroll.

We held hands, we’d already had one baby by the year we stood in herewith. Sons tended to weave well in my Fallopian tubes. I had a bundle of them then.The gentleman in my heart had ripped into my heart budding with dynamic sexual attraction of one which was to last long beyond time testing human hormonal alteration’s. Be it, besought by life’s temptations. There be but many a woman turns a blind eye to much hocus pocus men play on the dance floor. I’d a dreadful habit of falling for womanisers.

We held hands,walking along inside a beautiful arcade within a first class hotel by the lake. Those places with window lined boutiques displaying expensive jewels, handbags, plus other upmarket attire. The prices hypnotise you into feelings of surrendering, whether you can afford or not. Dream on, maybe next time.

We’d nearly reached the end of the boutiques song ‘come buy me‘ when my lover suddenly fell under a spell from one gentleman’s high-end shirt boutique. He was glued to one piece like a small child at a fairground, Remember the days? I noted his choice, wishing I could afford to purchase it for him. Dream on again. My budget was raw, rather like an unripe piece of fruit. Mother nature chooses her vitamin pills from natural sources. Be it a wand we are all blessed to be victims of, if we are wise of course. Plants are magical.

We reached the entrance to the hotel again now. It was very grand with gold tall pillars. One felt like a princess, which is always enchanting. I’d chosen high leather black boots as my lower half attire for this romantic trip. I’d had a feeling there’d be snow castles around.

Switzerland be one of my favourite hideaways. I remember other love nests I’d landed within. Speaking from days bygone. My lovers flute smiles now. He once played a violin. Lawyers claws dug into his poor soul, Never forget the music. Whatever wrong road grabs you. Money curses try to outride musical blessings. If only he’d been blessed with a creative family. I was way above him in stars on this note. Opposites attract, yet, balancing the harmonies of our differences is mind boggling. Love turns blue eyes blind. My eyes are green, yet I’m still a sucker under love notes. What would we do without the tyranny behind loves white gloves. Be it white be linings inside many handshakes of males, The gloves, I mean, The colour of one’s skin is of no significance, Never was. never will be. Greed overtakes. Any excuse to roll up their sleeves to shake hands on yet another deal. Thoughts sweep through my mind, as they do, when one’s heart dances after love boats we recall upon memory lane reaching another destination now.

As the floating circus tent stood silently in front of me. I looked up towards white mountains full of snow, feeling sure my long high black boots would slip in snow mountains . The path towards town looked like deep snow twisting lanes, where one couldn’t see the path clearly. Fortunately Swiss chateaus lined by each side of the path twinkled in sunlight. I’d cope somehow with my long impractical leather boots. Slipping on snow was my biggest concern. We never dress for practicality’s purpose when in love.

Soaking within thoughts, I turned towards my lover kissing him on the cheek. Happiness comes along when we least expect it, then we are in cloud nine. What a pity we all screw up, often due to pettiness from life’s problems. Round and round the mulberry bush. We reminise.

Silently soaking in surrounding tranquility from mountains humming silent songs. The red circus tent seems to stand out like an architectural string, be it empty from clowns. Like the river it rests upon, Time will bring it to life in due course. Silence is often an opening scene. Or a finale. Never underestimate it.

My dashing man turns around holding my freezing cold puffy face within his hands,

‘ This is for you ‘, he places a large pile of Swiss currency within my hands. ‘ Go and enjoy yourself in the town’.

‘ I’ve a meeting now’, he says. ‘ They’re coming to pick me up in five minutes , see you back here for dinner at 8 pm’.

A large black long estate car arrived. He waved goodbye from within the glamorous vehicle, as glass glistening with sprinkled snow sent shivers down my spine in hypnotic love trances of imperfection. Yet, were none other than movie star world, is one way of putting it.

What did I do next ? I turned myself directly towards the town with my huge pile of Swiss notes. They were tucked away safely in my wallet, which was bursting now. Ensured my handbag was well shut with the clasp intact, Placed the bag straps well over my warm wool coat. If I did go flying I’d hang onto my bag.

Upon our romantic wandering besides our hotel boutique innner corridor earlier on, A good few hours ago by now. I’d carefully noted the name of the boutique in my mind of the gentleman’s shirt my beloved had spotted. Deternined to hunt down the blouse, which be another more romantic term for a man’s shirt. Even though it be a name more adherent to the feminine sex. I urned my thoughts away completely from all the exotic lingerie boutiques staring at me right in the face. Even though, I knew I had a loaded wallet. I’d packed the essential garter-belt with seamed black nylon stockings with an accompanied set of lace ladies panties. Plus a matching brassiere. Agent Provacateur was my current trending line back then, My only thought was to stick to my decision. I was determined to hunt the town to find my lovers wishful blouse. In no uncertain terms .

Trust my blinking luck, the gentleman’s shirt boutique was right at the other end of Zurich. Miles from the lake. I had high heeled black leather boots on, remember ? Not snow boots. Upon grabbing a map from a passing tourist who I’d stopped for route information. My eyes nearly popped out in aghast. There is but one old rhyme this lovers tale brings to mind. It comes to pass that ‘ One Flew Over A Cuckoo’s Nest ‘, be one, I’m a sucker for punishment. Especially in love boats. I may still be a sailor girl on water, but theres a limit surely? In exhaustion, particularly with my freezing feet. My leather long boots might have stopped the traffic at Heathrow airport, but they surely were not made for snow walking. Suddenly shivering cold feet got a hold of my beat in love. I spotted a bar. Uncertain if it would serve hot coffee. The bar seemed very glam with silver beamed stools. All being designed for particular reason by a bar filled with champagne, plus many exotic liquors. Spirit’s chant too. All I wanted was a hot cup of coffee plus a few moments to stare at my route map . Making certain I’d not taken the wrong road.

Thank heavens, I was on the right path. The very first thing I did when I settled my freezing numb self on top of a glossy bar stool. I unzipped my boots, ripping them off my feet as dignified as possible. Then, I wriggled my toes. I’m not frozen yet, I thought. Upon breathing a sigh of relief I clicked my fingers. A right hand click did the trick. The bar waiter arrived promptly. Fortunately he spoke English. I hadn’t time to find my German language phrase book, or remember my own rusty French. Superb, hot coffee was on its way. The gentleman’s shirt, blouse boutique wouldn’t get the better of me yet. A dog seated close to me brought a smile to my face. In Switzerland dogs are permitted in cafes/ bars. Thank goodness for England’s surviving pubs, they’re now usually the only places you can take your dog. We have to freeze or roast in new global warming heat in The United Kingdom now, which is very ununited. Switzerland overrides the worlds mess. Thinking out loud I continue to smile at the dog. Slowly my toes begin to feel alive again, I’ve refuled. Back to business.

Deciding to depart showing off my multi language threshold of linguistic tools.Furst things first I have to reload my feet into damp leather boots. If I spot a shoe shop on the next lap. I’m diving into to pick up some flat good old fashioned wellies. A thick pair of socks would add to the idea. Sticking to my plan, I can’t be late back at the hotel. My lover already lost his marble’s at Heathrow airport as we nearly missed the plane. It was all because my animal house in London required fine tuning to get myself to the blinking plane. Phew !

Mustn’t upset my night in black satin ahead. White crisp hotel sheets to lie upon. If I have any energy left to scream sweet nothings. I will most likely sink into wonderland in the red velvet armchair in the downstairs lounge, before I even make it to bedsheets. Those crisply pressed sets like powder set in Lancôme’s powder puff container , It’s just got to be opened sooner or later. Mess up tidy things, then make them all perfect once more. For the next round.

Waving goodbye I am delighted to say I have now hit the target. I’ve just spotted the gentleman’s boutique . I can see the shirt my lover adored in front of my very eyes.

I’m going to buy it right now. The price is extortionate. I will then give it to him over our romantic dinner tonight. Probably when he asks me what I bought today in Zurich ?

The things we do for love.

Yvette Louise Melech

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