TURN BACK THE TIME, BABE. BOOK 5. GIVING IT ALL MY SOUL

THIS THING CALLED LOVE

The tour finished radiantly on 3rd March in Paris. That European tour was full of things and we were knackered. Within one month and a half the machinery would work again to the Japanese tour. It would be my first time in that country, where it first unleashed the madness about the group. Maybe the place on earth on which they were most famous at the moment. Where they had to step into the hotels by the laundry lifts and some other crazy things that turned them into the new Beatles there.

After the last and brilliant show in Paris, Freddie and I decided stay one week in the city of light. Well, Freddie rather decided because he wanted to do some shopping in search of things for our Stafford flat that we barely enjoyed, he wanted to watch some ballet shows, the opera, every restaurant he could afford. But the truth is all his marvellous plans had been reduced to a messy bed from which we were trudging out just for our physiologic and feeding needs. Before we even know, a whole week had passed and we only watched tv while purred each other French words among gigglings, did and undid the bed with the sheets that the nice cleaners ladys provided us daily, played Scrabble with always spicy bets and talked every day by phone with our beloved cat Freeli as our faithful Mary put the phone on his ear.

We returned London, rested and ecstatic although our turistic route had been reduced only to the 150 square meters presidential suite.

After a couple of days, we flew back to Montreux where the band had decided to buy the Mountain studios and get ready quietly their first live record, Live Killers, that would be released at the beginning of summer.

I adored Montreux and that made that gypsy way of living since I was married to Freddie, less upsetting to me. His condition as tax exile didn't help much to a stable home because we were always from hotel to hotel. He, however, seemed very comfortable with that lifestyle. For me it was a little bit harder. I found out I had all my life one only place to anchor. First my family home and then my shared flat with Alex. The order and stability had been such an important part in my development as woman, in such a way, it turned me into what I was now, for better or worse. Even the different flats I had rented in my different time travels had been clumsy attempts to still have "a sort of home" which return to after the numerous battles.

Stafford Terrace could be that home. In fact, Freddie tried to embellish it each time with something singular and precious. But so far we were staying there very briefly, catching flights all the time. We hadn't a single break to enjoy our domestic happiness and check out if we really could stand each other. The permanent feeling was speed, a breakneck speed. And I wanted to get a hold on him tightly, but sometimes he felt too sliding and I had to let him go.

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ.✧:･ﾟ.✧ *:･.

Black had just appeared on the cover of ES magazine again by the hand of the great Maureen Cleave. The same fairy godmother who changed her from damn climber groupie to the adorable blue eyed blonde girl all the women wanted to imitate and all men wanted to fuck. And surely quite a few women too.

In this new interview appeared a new sophisticated Elideth Polley with fine clothes, natural makeups and becoming hairdos. She was like a new Patti Boyd; elegant, cultivated and modern. The photographer had shot her insultingly good-looking and we all knew all the clothes that she was wearing in those pages would end up in every English girls's wardrobe.