Gaby Book 18 - Summery

 
Of course, when we were racing we rode straight through the checkpoint but now of course the barrier was closed.

“What’s up?” Mand enquired when Dad got out and headed to the sentry point.
“According to the sign we have to check in and out,” I advised scanning the board next to us.
“What for, we went straight through before.”
“It’s Wehrmacht, normally the public aren’t allowed, only at weekends to visit the Grabenlagen,” Angela told us, “the race gets special permission.”
“Like Salisbury Plain,” I suggested, Dad says there’s all sorts of neat stuff there but you can’t visit most of it, like ever.”
“I wondered what the tanks and stuff were about,” Mand allowed.
“Okay,” Dad stated as he climbed back in, “let’s look at some rocks.”

It looked a bit different from the bus and we reached the dell in just a few minutes even with the fifty limit. I hadn’t really taken notice before but there were roadways going off all over, it’d be cool to explore but as the signs kept reminding us, we were restricted to this roadway. Dad pulled the bus into the parking area, there were a couple of other vehicles parked, for somewhere not on most maps it’s pretty popular!

“Thought you were sleeping?” I mentioned to Mand as we walked across the glade to the information panel.
“We’re here now, might as well take a gander.”
“Don’t go too far,” Dad told us, “there are signs but the chap at the gate says that there could be live rounds just outside the protected area, some muck up with visiting troops, Spanish I think he said.”
“They aren’t shooting today are they,” Ron asked.”
“Not at weekends, even the army works Monday to Friday these days!” Dad advised.

Dad and Angela headed one way, the rest of us down a different path that led to a grassy glade with a pile of huge rocks at the far end.

“So like, what’s it supposed to be?”
“It’s a burial chamber,” I pronounced.
“Looks like it’s falling to bits,” Mand offered.
“Well it is like five thousand years old,” I pointed out as I peered into the chamber. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

It’s not really my thing but it is Dad’s so we’ve been to loads of these places and inside a fair few. We’ve got a box of photos at home somewhere with the family variously inside or on top of monuments from Cornwall to Scotland, it’s apparently an archaeologist thing.

“Not likely,” Mand shrieked, “it’s gonna fall down any minute and all those dead people.”
“I doubt that,” Ron took the job of voice of reason, “it’s empty now and as to falling down, it’s been here a while without crushing anyone."

This one actually has two chambers and one has collapsed but I was busy crawling inside the other. Not that there’s exactly a lot to see, a dirt floor, the cap stone balanced on the side uprights allowing just a bit over a metre to stand, well stoop or sit.

“There’s not much room,” Ron observed.
“How much do you need when you’re dead?”
“Just saying.”
“Dad reckons you’d get hundreds in some of ‘em, they only put your bones inside.”
“What, like skellingtons?” Mand, curiosity piqued, queried.
“Sort of, Dad reckons they let animals eat your flesh then just stacked all your bones in piles in here.”
“Gross!”
“Come on, let’s go see the others.”

Essentially the others were variations on a theme, smaller or bigger than the first, a space to clamber inside and not much else. Of the five, only D was different, the chamber set within a large rock bound mound.

“So how comes this one’s different?” Mand asked as we sat under the huge central slab.
“Dunno,” I admitted, “have to ask Dad.”
“Ask Dad what?” Pater enquired catching the three of us by surprise with his camera flash.
“Da-ad!”
“We were wondering why this one’s different to the others, Herr B,” Ron advised.
He climbed the rest of the way in, “Well it might not be.”
“Come on, Dad,” I exclaimed.
He made himself comfortable on the floor, “Hear me out, it’s pretty certain that all of these chambers were originally part of a mound that's eroded away.”
“So where are the other rocks?” Mand posed.
“Probably part of some farmhouse, there’s hardly any natural rock to quarry around here, a lot of these monuments have been used as quarries.”
“Why not the chambery bits?” I asked.
“Either too big to easily move or they were still covered by the mounds.”

It was almost four thirty when we reached the checkpoint again, mine wasn’t the only rumbling tum in the bus. Oh we’ve had a few bits of fruit, some leftover sandwiches and delved into the Haribo bag but that can only take you so far.

“Apparently there’s a cafe place just out in the village,” Dad told us on his return to the bus.
“Worth a look,” Angela proposed.

The place was difficult to miss, a squat yellow affair facing the quaint little church, what’s more it was open. Dad pulled into the parking area and we tumbled out and made our way inside. A strange mix of pub, cafe and corner shop filled the interior.

“Tag,” a voice enquired.
“Tag,” Dad replied as a middle aged woman appeared at the ‘counter’, “are you still doing food?”
“Ja, ja, sit, I'll bring the Speisekarte.”

We found seats at a table next to one of the large front windows before realising we weren’t the only customers after all, an older couple in walking gear occupied one of the bar tables.

The menus appeared, a drink order taken and the serious business of food selection could begin. It wasn’t ever going to be cordon bleu but I'll settle for the basics quite happily ninety nine percent of the time. One big difference here at the Osterholz Diner was a lack of Pommes, plenty of potato but in the form of boiled and croquettes – guess it makes a change.

When it arrived I was surprised to find several finger thick sticks of Spargel, the white asparagus preferred this side of the Channel. The menu only stated ‘sommer gemüse’ which I guess doesn’t leave out many options! With the new potatoes and ‘gravy’ my Rinderbraten almost looked like a Sunday dinner.

Well apart from the Spargel and the cheese sauce on top and the lack of roasts and Yorkshire pud, so almost.

“What’re them things?” Mand enquired.
“Spargel.”
“That size?”
“There’s a van comes to Mettmann most weeks from Nederland,” Angela advised, “they have it five centimetres across.”
“Sheesh,” I allowed, “how do you cook that?”
“I think people make the soup with them, slice them up like carrots I guess.”

Mand seemed fascinated, her roulade came with Rotköhl.

“You want to try, Mand?”
“Can I?”

I selected one of the thinner lengths and delivered across to her plate.

“I didn’t need a whole one.”
“There’s a lot here,” I noted.

The day was heading towards six when we returned to the bus sated if somewhat dozy. A bit of the day’s heat disappeared with the arrival of some thin cloud cover, when we joined the autobahn outside of Fallingbostel the traffic was light. The others were equally quiet as we started the journey south, I padded up my fleece to use as a pillow and then missed the next three hours.

“You guys want coffee?” Angela offered as we unloaded in Mettmann.
“Please,” Dad requested, “might not make it back otherwise.”

It’s easy to forget that he’s been up as long as the rest of us without the benefit of a power nap on the motorway – and he’s old.

“I'll put the jug on.”

So of course, those having slept were fully awake which was all the more ironic given Dad had no sooner sat on the sofa and he was zonked.

“Let him be,” Angela told us when we noticed his comatose form.
“How’re we gonna get home?” Manda asked, “I've got school tomorrow.”
“We’ll let him have an hour, I'm sure he just needs a few minutes. You girls want to get showered?”

Yeah, no shower facilities today, we’ve had to make do with a flannel wash – not ideal.

I sniffed at my t shirt, “Might be an idea.”
“Finish your drinks and I'll get some towels.”

“You should’ve woken me,” Dad told us as we finally started the last leg of our journey just after ten thirty.
“And get it in the ear for disturbing you,” I noted.
“You obviously needed some Zzz’s,” Mand observed.
“Hmm.”

We joined the southbound motorway just as the skies opened up.

So of course the earlier slumber time means I can’t get to sleep, I did finally get to my bed nigh on midnight. The rain pattering on the roof light doesn’t help, it has got heavier the closer we got to Dernau, not torrential but wetly. We got drenched just getting from the bus to the house and by the time we had the bus unloaded, well you could wring us out!

I really want to sleep. What am I doing tomorrow? Dress – I've got to collect that dress. Not sure what else, wonder if Con’ll come with?

A flash of brightness lit the room for a moment, one, two, three, I pretty much jumped out of my skin with the volume of the thunder, great. Ever done this, laid in bed waiting for the next peal of thunder, the next lightning strike? I'm not frightened, well not really but it can be a bit, well it gets the ticker going. I'll never get to sleep now.

“Gaby!”
‘S that?
“Gaby, will you answer that phone!”

Dad’s voice, something else, ringing, phone.

At the second attempt my outstretched fingers located my Handy, not ringing for a call but for an alarm, it gets louder each repeat, if you don’t stop it it’ll repeat every five minutes. Why’s the alarm going? It took a minute to convince my eyes they should open, when they did I shut them immediately to block out the sunlight streaming in – when did that happen?

“Your mum’s back later,” Dad advised.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“Everything washed and away before she gets here please.”
“Yes, Dad,” I groaned, you’d think it was the Queen coming to visit.
“I mean it, she’ll have enough of her own stuff to sort out without you and Manda’s stuff everywhere.”
“If we hadn’t got back so late it woulda been done.”
“Well it’s not and it needs doing.”
“I suppose I have to do Mand’s too?”
“It’s hardly hard work and she is it school right now.”

Slave driver.

“And do me a shopping list, I'll do the supermarket when I go into the office.”
“Yes, Dad.”

Another day in paradise.

Maddy Bell © 21.01.17