Gaby Book 17 - Seasons

“You sure she said crêpes?” Ron asked her companion.
“Positive, she was almost salivating at the prospect.”
“Well she’s not around here,” Ron noted giving the immediate surroundings another check.
“You reckon she’s alright?” Mand asked, just a hint of concern in her voice.
“It’s Gab, course she’s okay, try her Handy again,” the elder girl suggested.
Mand hit the speed dial and waited impatiently for her friend to pick up.

“What’s that?” Eva enquired.
“Dunno,” her daughter replied, “hang on it’s coming from by the door.”
Christine, Chris to pretty much everyone who knows her, poked around the cans of oil and jars of Nutella™ stored under the counter quickly locating a mobile phone which promptly stopped ringing.
“What is it?”
“Gaby’s Handy,” Chris advised her mother.
“How do you know it’s Gaby’s?”
“Well she was here not ten minutes ago and,” she held the phone up, “I recognise it, I don’t know anyone else with a phone looking like this.”

It certainly was distinctive, well the phone itself was one of those flip up things but the cover, well the rhinestones and other decorations were, er unique even if the bright pink didn’t grab your attention.

It was ten minutes, well closer to fifteen really, after Eva returned that Gab left the Der Mühle Crêpes trailer clutching a tray with not one but two of the tasty snacks on. She couldn’t see Mand or Ron, they’d walked past the trailer a few minutes ago, well she’d find them after eating her booty. A spot on a low wall beckoned, she could see the river flowing just a few metres away, she watched as a heavily laden barge forced its way upstream.

Not a bad result, free food and an offer of some occasional work. Well obviously Thesing’s get first dibs on my services, and of course Herr Sebenschuh said there might be some waitressing going but she wasn’t going to turn down another potential source of euros. Yeah, not a bad half hour’s work.

“She won’t be far away,” Mand told Ron with more conviction than she actually felt.
“Maybe if we wave a Frikadel, she can smell them out in the next town,” Ron opined.
“I’ll try her phone again.”

Gab finished her food watching the shipping pass by.
‘Guess I should find out where the others are.’
She checked her pockets, nope, backpack? ‘Shitza! Hmm, maybe I dropped it at the trailer?’

“I thought it was yours,” Chris grinned when she spotted a certain diminutive blonde approach.
“My Handy?”
“No, your walking stick, of course your Handy.”
She fished under the counter for said communication device.
“How did you know it was mine?”
“Well,” Chris started, producing it with a flourish, “it does rather stand out.”

I had to agree but let me just say it wasn’t my idea, I mean it’s not exactly me is it? No, remember when I was hospital last time? Well apparently Claudia did it for me before she, you know, passed and Nena gave it to me to cheer me up. I would’ve been well gutted if it had really been lost.

“Thanks,” I allowed taking it from her.
“It’s rung a couple of times.”
“That’ll be Mand no doubt, you’ve not seen her have you?”
“The girl with white hair?”
“Well it’s more light blonde at the moment, she’s with a tall girl, dark hair.”
“Blue coat?”
“Er yeah,” I agreed.
“Heading this way now,” Chris advised from her altitude-enhanced position.
“Eh?”
“You want this?” she pushed a crêpe my way, “they changed their mind so it’ll only get thrown away.”
“Go on then,” I agreed taking the chocolate covered treat.

The girls found me tucking into the extra plate of gooey delight.
“Where’ve you been?” Mand demanded.
“I was here.” I advised around a mouthful of food.
“No you weren’t, we came past looking for you twenty minutes ago.”
“I was!”
“And why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“I lost it.”
“It’s in your hand,” she pointed out.
“I just got it from Chris, I dropped it in the trailer.” I supplied.

“Why didn’t you let us know?” my ‘keeper’ pressed after I explained.
“It was a bit spur of the moment, we had people queuing for like half an hour solid.”
“No wonder we didn’t see her,” Ron observed, we didn’t look in the food stalls.”

We reconvened with parental units about four thirty, the Grönbergs departing for Mettmann and home soon after. We’d done a couple of rides, well the others rode, I watched not being the greatest fan of fairground lunch losers. I did join them on the big wheel though, not the biggest example but ‘Pluto’ still offered good views across the park and along the river towards Bonn and the rocky outcrop of Drachenfels.

“We going too?” I enquired.
“No reason to,” Mum told us, “there’s live bands on, we can get something to eat, make an evening of it.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely,” she confirmed.
“Where’re Jules and Boris?” Mand queried.
“They left a while back,” Dad advised.
“Your sister’s staying in Bonn tonight, they caught the tram up.” Mum added.

I don’t think my parents are particularly keen on my sister’s, let’s say ‘sleeping’ arrangements. It’s not so much staying at Boris’ place rather what they get up to there, trouble is she’s nearly eighteen and has only paid lip service to the rents for – well quite a while. Remember the whole Goth thing? The pierced tongue? Just the tip of the, er iceberg.

“So, we staying?” Dad prompted.
“Good for me, Mand?”
“As long as it’s not yodelling.”
“I don’t think there’s much of that on the Rhein,” Mum chortled.
“Yodel eh hey ay!” I shrilled, earning me a friendly slap from Mand.

I’d long ago consigned the costume wearing to a box marked ‘irrelevant’; the crowd mix went from largely dressed up to more normal attire as the day wore on. Families with young children disappeared, they weren’t so much replaced but the mix became older, the beer wagons doing good business, the bands more ‘adult’. We enjoyed a set by a group doing rock covers before the lure of food got the better of the Bond clan.

Despite the attractions of the various street vendors we managed to secure a table in the very busy ‘Blau Anker’ almost next to the fairground. To be honest I was glad to sit down, we’ve been either stood or walking about all afternoon and the warmth from the fire didn’t hurt either. The atmosphere was good natured, noisy and friendly, the staff constantly on the go taking orders, delivering drinks, food and even hats and coats – they were certainly earning today’s wages!

“Essen?” our waitress enquired arriving armed with Speisekarte.
“Please,” Dad confirmed.
“There may be some delay,” she told us, “it’s been a bit busy.”
“That’s fine, we aren’t in a rush.”
“Drinks?”
“Can we have a bottle of house white for now.”
“Sure,” and she was away.
She’d gone before my brain engaged, “Er what about us?”
“What?” Dad asked.
“Well don’t we get drinks?”
“Don’t you want the wine?”
“Wine? But…”
“Call it a birthday treat, you’re legal now ,” Mum put in, “Mand?”
“Fine by me,” she agreed.
Who am I to argue?

“And I’ll have the Gebratene Ente ,” Dad completed our order.
“With Pommes, rice?”
“Pommes,” Dad confirmed.

The menu was mostly pretty standard stuff with a few slightly different variations; Mum and Mand both went with Gegrillter Lachs whilst I went with Rehrücken as I’ve never had it. Like you have to try these things right?

“Back to the diet tomorrow,” Mum sighed.
“What diet?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she grinned.
“Dad?”
“The guys at BC want to try out some different fuelling strategies.”
“And we get to be the Guinea Pigs,” I surmised.
“Not so much Guinea Pigs as test pilots.”
“Hmmph! It better not be all Soya and broccoli.”
“Well not all,” Dad replied.
“Why do we need to lose weight?”
“It’s not about losing weight kiddo, it’s fuelling your riding better,” Mum put in.
“You already started last summer when you were at Manchester,” Dad added.
“That was a diet?” Mand queried.
“Not all diets are lettuce and carrot sticks,” Mum noted taking a sip from her wine glass.
“I suppose schnitzel’s out though,” I sighed.
“Not necessarily, it’s the sauces that are the bad boys.”
Okay but Frikadel and Bratwurst, they’ll be history for sure.

The food was excellent and in reality we didn’t wait that long for it. Venison can be quite strongly flavoured but this cut, although very clearly the real McCoy was relatively mild, think a good steak. Apparently, everyone else’s food was acceptable too, conversation around the table dropping to a minimum as we ate. There wasn’t exactly a great selection for dessert so we skipped it in favour of coffee.

“Angela has left us a gateau,” Mum told me, “we can have some with our cocoa.”

Ron’s mum, as I may have mentioned before, makes like the best cakes, none of your scrape of cream between two lumps of sponge, we are talking real fruit, real cream, real, well they take no prisoners!

With the promise of cake later we enthusiastically rejoined the albeit depleted crowds out in the park. It was a real party atmosphere, a big success for the town and the Karneval clubs. We joined the music lovers in departing, just kidding, we stood through several sets, a local choir, an extreme folk group complete with Hurdy Gurdy and a couple of groups covering rock and chart numbers. Everyone joined in when ‘Red Balloon’ covered 99 Luftballoons, I think they specialise in Nena covers, I didn’t recognise some of their programme though.

It was after nine when we made our way back to the Mercedes for the journey back home.

Copyright Maddy Bell 01.05.16