Thursday 23rd June 2005
It’s always the same. One moment you’re just arriving, looking forward to a whole week of fun, and the next, in the blink of an eye, so it seems, it’s all over and you’re homeward bound.
As if to underline this, the run from Meiringen to Lucerne by train is through the loveliest scenery imaginable. We propped our dozy eyes open – it had been a very short night after the last evening’s jollifications – and look our last for the moment on the mountains and lakes and that amazing blue sky. A last change of trains at Lucerne, a last blast of Theo’s rallying whistle. Farewells at Zurich to those who were not coming to London, farewells at Heathrow to everyone. Home to the unreal world of every day, where nobody takes our photograph, makes a speech or gives us a glass of vin d’honneur.
How did this Swiss pilgrimage compare with its predecessors? Well, each has its own character and every one I go on seems to be the best yet. Those who were on their first trip would not believe me, but this really was a jaunt taken at a gentler pace than heretofore. Not too many dawn starts; some time off out of costume every day; parades and processions short and slow-moving. We can’t be getting older, can we? Surely not!
One aspect that was certainly ‘the best yet’ was the costume. Inspired, perhaps, by the excellent advice supplied by Anna Smyth and Reggie Musgrave, people had made tremendous efforts with their attire and I felt that we were more authentic than ever before. This is, after all, the very public face of the Society and the onus is on us to look good for the press and the public. Hats and spats, sticks and parasols, fans and watch-chains abounded. Gentlemen were spruce in frock-coats, with toppers, waistcoats and cravats. Ladies were modestly attired, with hardly a peep of an ankle or a hint of unbuttoning at the neck. Many of us had gone for true authenticity with tight-laced corsets, despite the heat. Oh, the heat! Thirty-two in the shade is not ideal for this sort of thing. How we envied Edwin Van der Flaes, who had been inspired to come as Thaddeus Sholto’s khitmutgar and was cool and comfortable in salwar kameez while the rest of us boiled in broadcloth. Bob Ellis was equally inspired; as Breckinridge he could quite properly appear in shirtsleeves, and seemed to have a different butcher’s apron every day. He also had a horrible rubber chicken, which accompanied him everywhere and behaved, in the hot springs at Leukerbad, in a most unseemly fashion.
There were other splendid eccentricities of costume. Professor Moriarty (boo, hiss!) appeared at one point in a strange funereal deerstalker, and on another occasion as the famous green policeman. John Barker nobly volunteered to come as a genuine Victorian bobby, and nearly expired in a uniform better adapted for the Strand in a freezing pea-souper than a mountain pass in the blazing sun. Madame Lesurier of Bond Street was strangely attired in a sort of parody of Swiss national dress, with an alarmingly see-through skirt. Theo Wyler had a splendid purple waistcoat, easy to follow as he led us towards our hotels – or sometimes astray. Our two young helpers from Swiss Tourism came as a pair of street-urchins and were instantly christened The Wigginses.
Another ‘best yet’ was the food – I think everyone will agree that we were wined and dined to perfection. The hotels were uniformly excellent; I will never forget, on the last night, finding that I could actually lie in bed and look through the window at the floodlit Reichenbach Falls. And the weather – well, we did gasp a little in the heat, but last time I was in Meiringen it was perishing cold and snowing. This was so much better! The brilliant sunshine and the glorious mountain air were a real treat.
I can’t believe it’s all over; as I write, I am still chuckling at the memories. Of course we will all be meeting soon at Society events, and we hope to have a Swiss reunion; we will exchange photos and reminiscences. These trips are the best thing in the world for making and cementing friendships, and as soon as one is over we start dreaming and planning for the next one. |
