On a Dangerous Mission ... To Buy Gloves

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We sleep in. Issy decides to pass on breakfast so I go down alone. The lady in the breakfast room asks me if I want a table for only one, with a lot of stress on the word "only". I can feel the eyes of the room boring into me. I'm not sure why; when I look around I see that I'm the only person here.

We decide to take a tour on the small bus/train that we've seen carting tourists around the town. It's quite mild today, but the skies look a bit threatening, thunderstorms are forecast and the mountains are heavily shrouded in cloud. The train heads through the old town and then past the old city walls with their nine towers dating back to 1386. There's a large clock in one of the towers, and we read that it's so important that it's allowed to chime the hour one minute before all the other clocks around town. I would have thought this might be a bit at odds with the Swiss reputation for precision, not to mention confusing.

We cross the river and head into a part of town that apparently used to be well known for its barber's shops. We're told that some of the barbers also carried out minor surgical procedures. Hmmm. If my appendix was about to burst I'm not sure that my first port of call would have been the local hairdresser, but maybe things were different back then. We pass the train station. We're told that its previous iteration was almost completely destroyed by fire in 1971; only the entrance archway survived, and this is now on display in a square in front of the revamped building. They sure do seem to have a lot of trouble with fires here. We go back across the river, around the lake shore, and then up past the Lion of Lucerne statue and the Bourbaki Panorama where the tour ends.

We walk across the town's other old wooden river crossing, the Spreuer Bridge. We read that this was originally built in 1408, and then rebuilt after it was destroyed by a flood in 1566. Like the Chapel Bridge it too has a number of paintings on wooden panels under its roof.

We head uphill to the old city walls, and then up some steep steps into one of the towers. The views over the town, the lake and the surrounding mountains are excellent. There's an electric fence along the path next to the walls, and some highland cattle are grazing in the paddock behind it. If the contrast in grass length on either side of the fence is anything to go by it seems that their primary role in life is lawnmowing.

Tomorrow we've booked a tour to go up the Jungfrau which at 4,158 metres is one of the country's highest peaks. We thought Pilatus was high, but it was only a paltry 2,128 metres. It seems that someone's installed a live camera up near the top of the Jungfrau, but it appears not to be working. Uh oh, yes it is.... if we look really closely we can almost see some people moving around in the otherwise total whiteness of snow and thick swirling cloud. They all look ridiculously cold, and I'm not too sure they can see overly much.

On the basis of what we've just seen we decide that we probably need to invest in some gloves. Issy's feeling a bit tired so I'm entrusted with the grave responsibility of buying them. Issy says it doesn't matter what colour they are, as long as they keep out the damp. Based on what we saw on the camera, something to keep out ice, snow and subarctic temperatures might also come in handy. Issy says that leather would be good, but cotton might also be alright, but not synthetic material. She says that she's a medium size, and I'll have to work out what size I am for myself. I didn't realise that there was so much to know about gloves. I'm now feeling very nervous. It's 4.30pm, and the shops close at 6pm, so I've only got an hour and a half to complete my mission.

I head for the supermarket, firstly because it's the only shop I've been into here so far, so it's familiar, and secondly because I think I can browse here virtually unnoticed and without being asked questions by any of the staff. The glove shelf’s a bit hard to find, and there’s only one type; they’re black and the label says that they fit all sizes. It doesn't say anything about what they're made of, and I now realise that I've got no idea what synthetic material looks or feels like. I'm pretty sure the one’s here aren’t leather. They don't look very thick, but perhaps I can make that up by buying us both two pairs. I wonder why they don't have more gloves here; the whole town's covered in metres of snow in winter. Maybe everyone‘s already got a pair. I decide to keep looking and keep this as my backup plan.

I wander up through the old town, and into a shop that says it sells makeup and other women's clothing and accessories. I think a glove might qualify as an accessory. I‘m not sure why but I decide to start searching in the underwear section, before realising after a few minutes that I'm perhaps lingering here for just a bit too long. I don't particularly want to get arrested before I complete my mission, so I decide it might be a good idea to leave before anyone has a chance to ask me any questions.

I pass a large souvenir shop. I think that gloves might possibly be considered souvenirs, so in I go. There's a large Asian tour group here, and it's very crowded. They sure do seem to sell a lot of souvenir-ey things - fancy expensive watches, cuckoo clocks, Swiss Army pocket knives, and even the square bells that we saw hanging around the cows’ necks yesterday. I can't see any gloves so I climb up to the next floor, where I spot some on a shelf in a corner. I push my way through the crowd to get to them. Unfortunately the label doesn't say what they're made of, and again there's only one size. As I try to get my fingers into one I feel something rip. I think that now might be a good time to leave.

Why is this so hard? It's now 5.30pm, and I'm starting to panic. I wander up and down three floors of another store before realising that it only sells children's clothes.

I head into another shop that says it sells outdoor clothes. I think that you'd probably wear gloves mostly when you were outdoors, but I suspect you could probably wear most other clothes when you were outdoors as well, except possibly pyjamas. I can't see any gloves. I'm now desperate enough to do the unthinkable and ask someone for help. I approach a very nice young lady, and she tells me that they do have some in stock. She asks me if I want them in leather. I feel an intense wave of relief wash through my body. I watch as she disappears into a large cupboard, and emerges with a selection for me to choose from. No wonder I couldn't find them in any of the other shops if they keep them hidden away in cupboards. I wonder why they do this, and what else they keep hidden away out of sight of desperate naive men. The lady at the checkout says that I look like I'm off to climb a mountain, which I think might be her way of telling me that perhaps I should have thought about buying some gloves before I left home.

I'm exhausted. I'd never imagined that buying a couple of pairs of simple gloves could be so stressful.

We didn't finish visiting the old town walls earlier so I traipse up the hill and into the tower with the clock that chimes a minute before all the others. It’s called the Zyt Tower and it was built in 1535. The views are again excellent. The tower roof is being propped up by a large half burnt beam that looks like it once formed part of the rest of the roof. It seems that this is a reminder of a fire, although given the number of blazes they seem to have had around here over the years I’m not sure how necessary this might be. I admire the enormous bell on the top floor. I then think to look at my watch. It‘s two minutes to six, and perhaps unsurprisingly I’m the only person still here. If I'm still standing here in a minute's time I suspect I‘ll probably be deaf for the rest of the trip. I run quickly down to the next level, and reach it just as the ringing starts. It‘s earth shatteringly loud even from here; I think I can feel my brain vibrating.

We have dinner on the riverfront. I decide to go traditional and have bratwurst with rosti. It‘s very nice. All the tables are lit by small lights sitting on piles of sand inside jars. If that wasn’t unusual enough each jar’s also got a small rubber duck in it. We wonder about the significance of the ducks. The Google machine isn't much help, other than to tell us that a pair of ducks was recently caught by some speed cameras near Lucerne doing more than twenty kilometres per hour over the limit, twice in three days. Apparently it‘s unclear whether it was a different pair of ducks the second time, or repeat offenders, not that I'm too sure why this might matter.…

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