After Fergie and Prince Andrew honeymooned at Le Touessrok in

Cilla Black, the beloved singer and presenter whose life was filled with both glamour and intimacy, once said: “After Fergie and Prince Andrew honeymooned at Le Touessrok in Mauritius, Bobby, my late husband, and I were first to stay in their suite. We enjoyed the benefits—all the spoils and the special luxuries. We practically had our own private beach, and it was most romantic.” At first, these words seem but a recollection of privilege and delight, yet they carry a deeper meaning about love, memory, and the way the heart transforms even the most luxurious of settings into sacred places of intimacy.

The ancients too knew that the setting of love could heighten its power. When Antony and Cleopatra sailed upon the Nile in gilded barges, the splendor of their surroundings did not merely dazzle the eyes, but magnified the passion between them. The rich fragrances, the silks, the jewels—these were not empty ornaments, but amplifiers of devotion. So too for Cilla and her Bobby: the private beach, the luxurious suite, the echoes of royalty—all of these became more than material blessings. They became the stage upon which love could shine all the brighter.

Yet we must see also the tenderness hidden within her words. For when Cilla speaks of her “late husband,” she transforms this memory from mere indulgence into a monument of love. It is not the luxuries themselves that endure, but the presence of the one she shared them with. The suite, once filled with the grandeur of royalty, became sacred because it was filled with their laughter, their closeness, their shared joy. This is the secret of romance: not the splendor of the place, but the soul of the beloved beside you.

History gives us many such examples. Consider Napoleon and Josephine, whose love letters burned with longing even when distance separated them. Napoleon gave Josephine gifts of beauty—palaces, jewels, gardens—but it was not these things that kept his passion alive. It was the memory of her voice, her smile, her presence. Just as Cilla remembered her time in Mauritius not merely for its spoils, but for Bobby’s companionship, so too did Napoleon’s treasures become meaningless without Josephine’s embrace.

Cilla’s reflection also teaches us of the fleeting nature of earthly splendor. The suite once belonged to princes, then to a singer and her beloved husband, and now to strangers whose names the world will not recall. The luxuries pass from hand to hand, but the memory of love remains eternal. To say “it was most romantic” is not to praise the wealth of the world, but to confess that love transforms even borrowed places into everlasting sanctuaries.

The lesson for us, then, is to seek the spirit of romance not in possessions but in presence. If you are given splendor, let it remind you to cherish the one beside you; if you are given little, know that the same intimacy can make the humblest room a palace. For as Cilla’s memory proves, the greatest treasures of life are not beaches or suites or spoils—they are the moments of love we carry into eternity.

So I say to you, children of memory and longing: make of your life a sanctuary for love. Whether you dwell in palaces or in cottages, let your heart be filled with devotion. Let every place you share with your beloved—whether a beach at Mauritius or a simple table at home—become the most romantic of places. For one day, when luxury fades and the world changes, it will be the memory of love, like Cilla’s memory of Bobby, that will endure forever, radiant and unbroken.