ElevatorLiving on the fourteenth and top floor of an old 60’s tower block in Switzerland isn’t so bad. Views over Lake Geneva to the Alps, Mont Blanc, the Jura and from Lausanne to the Jet d’eau in Geneva, I must admit to being spoilt. I have to remind myself from time to time how lucky I really am.

Until today. A 60’s tower block is a 60’s tower block and the elevators that get me up and down are also a relic of the 60’s. So they are now very much prone to functioning on a limited and unpredictable basis. So much so that finally there is action underway to replace them with fully functioning models. The two disfunctioning elevators have now been reduced to one as a new one is being installed. And so my saga begins.

I had a lesson to give today but had to call in as unavailable as the one operating elevator decided to become a non-operating elevator. Stopped, blocked, dead, inoperative and failing in its bound duty to go up and down. I had little fear in descending fourteen floors, but at my age coming back from my lesson and ascending fourteen floors was surely risking a heart attack. So I cancelled. Then came the real problem. My puppy started doing cross legged gymnastics after a while that meant I needed to take some action. So I called the elevator company, who very politely informed me that someone would attend to the problem – this evening. As it was four pm, there was a lot of ‘this evening’ left. Especially for my dog.

So I played ball for a while, gave him some food, played some more and started to prepare myself for the dreaded descent. Fourteen flights of stairs plus fourteen horridly heavy Swiss fire doors. Well, twenty-eight in fact as the Swiss never do anything by halves. A little more ball and a little more food was a brilliant idea as just at the stoke of seven, and nearing my poor puppy’s ability to cross his legs any longer, I hear a whoop, whooping noise from the corridor. The old excuse for a lift was working again.

So off we went on almost a ‘mission from god’ as poor little puppy found the nearest tree on exiting the building. Relieved and tired after a long walk we returned to a fully functioning elevator. Then, no more than fifteen minutes later, I heard some screams of frustration from outside my door.

Hopefully the elevator repair man makes night calls!

I Live In Paradise – Except For Today
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One thought on “I Live In Paradise – Except For Today

  • 22/09/2011 at 4:03 pm
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    Maybe you should consider buying a wicker basket and a long piece of rope to lower poor Yalla down to the ground from your window. Of course, asking him to open all those doors and run back up the fourteen flights of stairs to save yourself the effort of hauling him back up again is another matter. :D

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