DJP

Our final group of visitors are also some very close friends of mine. My best friend Mr Damian Griffiths and his lovely girlfriend Jenny, and Mr 'last minute' Peter Wright. Their stay really is a flying visit, arrive saturday early evening back onto the plane monday afternoon/evening, so every second counts. Naturally Peter's plane is delayed by an hour and Damian and Jenny board the wrong train and are heading away from Luzern to Basel, by the time they return to Zurich to get on the right train Peter has caught up with them, they arrive in Luzern 2 hours late but never the less very welcome, its a tonic to see them and I feel lifted just being in their presense. They have arrived on probably the best/worst day. Its an 'Old town' festival, I have never seen Luzern so busy, getting through the streets is like trying to escape from the front row at a music festival. We drop off lugage and immediately sink some rum on the terrace, we have a full house. Hiromi, Damian, Peter, Jenny, Ben, Deborah (Swiss girl) and her brother, plus two of her friends. The streets are full to bursting, we catch some food and wander around watching the festivities. We take root by the river and sit talking, Nuno Pedro and a Swiss guy turn up too. we walk around laughing and drinking, and resettle under the Medieval wall by our house taking in the view. Under the influence Peter and Damian turn into two naughty school kids and are giggling at anything, Jenny takes a capable and stern tone taking them in hand before bed. Better her than me.
Next day we are heading out to Rigi. We take a paddle boat to Weggis and onto the cable car. We pass two cablle car supports and both times the car lurches back and forth a few meters, its like being drunk on a ship at sea, we stagger and laugh nervously to each other, the attendant sits cooly unflinching. The view spreads as we gain height, its as beautiful as ever. We then take a funicular to the top. Despite our hunger our first act upon arrival is to play on a trampolinefive twentysomethings bouncing like idiots in the midday sun, there is much colliding and screaming and fun.
Peter was born to bounce apparently.
The weather is turning dark as we eat lunch and by the time we start to appreciate the views they have disappeared in cloud. The men venture to the very summit and behold a fantastic drop off worthy of bowling balls and aerobies. It rains and we run for the funicular down to the boat. The skies open on us and the funicular is pounded on all sides, its crowded. It chuggs groggily down the mountainside stopping every now and then. Cable cars and funiculars always seem a little risky, but I've grown use to them, until about a kilometer from the bottom after dropping a passenger off the funicular starts up and then slips its gears for about a meter. This is enough to set people catapulting down the train, people pick themselves up and grip rails and glance at each other. There is a tense nervous hilarity in peoples voices for the rest of the journey, and you start to notice the gravity of the funicular fighting its gears. Its fun, the situation matches the crappy weather. The boat ride home brings fresh skies and brisk winds.
Before we know it, its souvenier shopping time and fairwells at the station. We'll see them soon.
Thank you everyone that came out to see us, you were all a breath of fresh air, and a reminder of the good things that wait at home. Perhaps especially Peter for his late decision making, and spontaneous unPeter like attendence, sorry you had to sleep on the floor.