Page 56 of The Happiness Project

We’ve come to visit the Schloss Schönbrunn, where the sheer grandeur of the buildings and gardens leaves you simply speechless.

‘The predominant architectural styles in Vienna are baroque and gothic,’ our guide tells us. ‘This palace was once the home of the Emperor Franz Joseph and our beloved Empress Sisi.’

‘I’ve watched the TV series,’ says Mum. ‘She had to get married when she was sixteen and was a bit bored with the life of a royal.’

‘Indeed,’ replies our guide. ‘A little like your Meghan Markle, perhaps?’

This causes a debate among my group that has absolutely nothing to do with the magnificent surroundings of the palace, so I urge the guide to move everyone on.

‘She was considered very beautiful,’ the guide continues, ‘and was so desperate to hold onto her looks, which she considered the reason for her popularity among Austrians, that she invented her own beauty creams. One of them was known as Crème Celeste — can anyone guess what it contained?’

There are a few random guesses, including goose fat from one lady and sea kelp from my mum.

‘How would she get hold of that in a landlocked country?’ asks my dad.

‘She’s an empress,’ replies Mum as if it’s obvious. ‘She’d get a minion to ride out to the nearest rock pool.’

‘Where would the nearest coastline be?’ asks another of the guests. ‘It must be hours away.’

‘Italy, I imagine,’ Dad says. ‘Hours by train, so weeks by horse.’

‘A few days with a fast horse and they could pick a bulk order,’ says Mum.

The guide is clearly quite astounded at the debate that has ensued. He probably only gets an interested silence when he asks groups this question. He clears his throat to get our attention and we turn to face him.

‘Actually, it was white wax, almond oil and rosewater,’ he tells us.

‘Oh, I use rosewater,’ Mum says. ‘Does that mean I can be an empress?’

‘You’ll always be my queen,’ Dad says.

I gag and tell them to get a room.

* * *

After the morning tour, we’re dropped off at the dance studio. Although the exterior is in keeping with the rest of the grand Viennese street it stands on, the interior is a modern air-conditioned dance studio where only the sparkling crystal chandelier hints at a more courtly history.

The studio owner comes out to greet us, shaking the hands of the men and kissing the hands of the women with extreme propriety. I wonder whether everyone coming here feels like royalty within moments of meeting this lovely man.

He begins by giving us a short history of the dance we’re about to learn.

‘This is one of the most romantic and graceful dances in the world,’ he tells us. ‘Much faster than the traditional waltz and it developed from some of our local folk dances where couples would dance in the round — as we do in the waltz. During the Hapsburg period, the dance became popular with the aristocracy as Johann Strauss created the beautiful music we will dance to today. I will warn you all that this dance was considered scandalous.’

He pauses as we giggle then grabs one of the ladies and pulls her close.

‘The man,’ he continues, staring into this woman’s eyes, ‘had to hold the lady close and put his hands on her hips.’

He does just this and although he’s hamming it up, the atmosphere is electric.

‘He must gaze deeply into her eyes as they twirl faster and faster.’

He takes the lady on a spin around the room that is dizzying to watch.

‘You might just be able to see the lady’s ankles as they peep out below the dress.’

Our instructor has us all dying to try it out, and after his demonstration he arranges us in pairs and puts on ‘The Blue Danube’ — a piece of music that we all recognise as much from advertisements as anything else. By the end of the first lesson we’re at least all moving in the same direction and those who have a natural aptitude for dance seem to be following the steps without moving their lips. I’m not in that camp, in case there was any doubt, but Mum and Dad look as if they were born to dance this. I don’t know whether it’s the makeover or the adventures Mum is having through the bucket list, but they do look more in love than ever. I think ahead to the remaining items that I have to organise and really cannot imagine fulfilling Mum’s wishes — it would break Dad’s heart.

Just as I’m basking in the glow of parental love, Mum leaves Dad and taps Felipe on the shoulder, asking his partner to swap. As with most things Mum does, there’s not a lot of choice in the matter, so my parents both end up in the arms of people much younger. Their new partners are dance instructors from Marianne’s school, and although my folks looked good dancing together, the extra tuition they’re now both getting leaves me breathless; I didn’t know either of them could move so quickly. The music reaches its grand finale and my customers break out in spontaneous applause. Their cheeks are pink from the exercise and the smiles reach across the room. Mum has picked a wonderful activity to try and her dream has given all these people a fabulous day. Not for the first time, I wonder why people leave bucket lists until they’re old. And why I don’t have one.

---