"I don’t suppose you pair packed your team frocks?” Dad queried as we negotiated our way out of the ‘Ring some time later.

The others were ahead of us in the minibus so they could go directly to their digs to shower and stuff.

"What for?” I asked from my perch behind Mand – she claimed front seat while I was stowing the trophy on the sofa.
"Dinner this evening?” he suggested.
"What about it?”
"We’ve got a table booked at the hotel, I was hoping to not need to go home first.”
"Never thought eh Mand?”

Those flippin’ dresses are getting on my pip.

"Do we have to wear them?” Mand enquired.
"You know George’s stance.”
"But he’s not coming even,” I pointed out.
"Hmm, I guess we could let it slide this once.”
"Yes!”
"I don’t suppose you’ve got anything a bit smarter?” he asked.
"What’s wrong with these?”

I suppose I'm pushing my luck a bit with a baggy vest top and short, er shorts.

"Don’t look at me,” Mand stated, she was somewhat more conservatively dressed in a T shirt and denim skirt.

"Cheers Tal.”
"Can’t believe you only brought that ratty top and shorts.”
"I thought we were going home,” I defended as I adjusted my borrowed frock – a mini on Tal but knee length on me sleeveless affair in a lemon yellow that only slightly clashes with my hair.
"You ready then?”
"I guess, I'm starving.”

"We’ve put you on the island Herr Bond,” the head waiter blokey advised as we congregated in the hotels restaurant, a more motley looking group than usual.
"Thanks, can we have a couple of bottles of bubbly please.”

My ears pricked at that, now you’re talking Dad! We were directed out onto the balcony and thence via the walkway onto the ‘island’, a circular platform several metres above the parking area.

"This is different,” Ron offered.
"Unusual like,” Josh agreed peering over the enclosing balustrade.

We found seats, Dieter adjusting the parasols to put us in shade rather than bake in the now quite warm evening sun. by the time we were settled the staff had returned with the champers and glasses which were quickly distributed.

"Okay everyone,” Dad stood to address us, "I'll be brief. It was a hard race out there today, Gab’s puncture and Josh’s gear issues aside but you all, as a team, contributed to the result. So a toast, to future success and teamwork!”
We all did the glass waving and drink sipping bit before Dad went on.
"To continue with the team theme, there’ll be a short group ride in the morning followed by lunch at Bond Acres, I think Jenny’s got something special planned. that’s me done, I understand they have music and dancing here later so enjoy the evening, you deserve it.”

Oh yeah, bring it on!

We had a good meal, nothing special really, a mixed grill but with Spätzle rather than Pommes followed by strudel with ice cream. The entertainment was provided by a local band, Stringer who’s repertoire stretched from covers of ‘classic’ rock via granny landesmusik to current charts. In other words a fairly typical German jobbing band as found at social events across the country.

Hardly Leeds Festival but even the adults were spotted on the tiny dance floor – Mum having arrived with the big boss after we’d eaten. To be honest my legs were still well achy so I was less enthusiastic than usual given party type entertainment. It wasn’t late – really, when Dad gathered the troops for the ride back to Dernau and our beds.

"I can’t believe I'm up at this time on a Sunday and I'm not even racing.”
"Give over Gab,” Con complained,”it’s hardly the crack of dawn.”
"Don’t see why we had to ride up.”
"We’ll have to make our own way up from Tuesday,” my bestie pointed out.

It wouldn’t be quite so galling if Therese Thesing wasn’t coming up with the Brötchen and batons later. Oh well, at least I've got Mums dinner to look forward to.

"This till’s different to the shop one,” Con mentioned.
"Oh?” I was concentrating on checking the temperature of the Bockwurst.
"I can’t get it to total.”
"Have to ask your mum when she gets here.”

We had of course got the shutters open, the serving window partly open – we had a bit of a smoke issue with the hotplate earlier. I found myself watching the passing traffic, a few bikes, what I'm guessing was some sort of road run for old Porsches – leastwise there were about a dozen shiny older models pretty much following each other. Just a normal Sunday morning in the Ahrtal.

Therese sorted the till issue when she arrived with the bread, I'd pretty much cracked the Bratwurst and my first go with the slicer produced a reasonable facsimile of a tray of currywurst. Frau T didn’t stay long, this was down to us.

"You open?”

The question made me jump, I hadn’t even noticed anyone at the window.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you,” the chap I sort of recognised added.
“’S alright, just a dry run, we open tomorrow.”
"What were you after?” Con queried.
“Pommes?”
"Be a couple of minutes,” Con advised.
"No problem.”
"Con!” I pulled her away and hissed, "What’re you up to?”
"We’re supposed to be practising aren’t we?”
I shook my head, "Whatever.”

I fetched a bowl of Frites and soon the kiosk was alive to the sounds and smells of frying, Con meanwhile had gone out to unlock the tables and chairs – our customer helping to set them out. It finally clicked, the Ahrtal Wielersport jersey, the blue Focus leant against our fence – Hen. The Frites were soon ready, I turned them out into the warmer, shook a generous amount of ‘Frite spice’ over and filled a paper tray.

"You want ketchup or mayo Hen?”
"Er mayo please.”

I managed to convince Therese we should have the gravity fed mayo and ketchup dispensers – they’ve always fascinated me with their weirdly udder like appearance and delivery teat. I loaded a sizeable dollop of mayo over the tray and with a flourish stuck a fork into the pile.

"What’s the damage?”
"You’re our first customer so its on the house.”
"Cheers!”

The heady mixture of cooking aromas didn’t take long to attract more attention, a small flock of bikes squealed and clattered to a halt moments later.

"Hen!”
“Jo!”
"Wondered when this place was opening,” another rider stated.

We were soon filling orders, Con looking after drinks, me the food. I had to raid my own purse for change – we hadn’t expected to need anything in the till today. A couple of bikers joined the throng, a young family stopped by for chips and pop, an older couple had coffee and currywurst. It was going swimmingly, a steady trickle of demands for snacks and drinks, the till wasn’t exactly full but instead of nothing there must be at least a hundred euros in there.

"Where are you?” Dad demanded when I answered my trilling Handy.
"At the kiosk of course.”
"Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere else?”
"Somewhere el… oh sugar, what time is it?”
"Almost one.”
"Bum, I'll be there soon as, we need to clean up and stuff.”
"I'll come and fetch you,” he resignedly advised.

I ended the call and let out a sigh.

"Sounded intense,” Con opined.
"I'm supposed to be at a big family dinner thing, we need to shut, Dad’s coming to fetch us.”
"Well there’s no one around at the moment anyway, I'll do the shutters if you start in here.”
“’Kay.”

Of course cooking and serving is only half the job, there’s at least as much effort needed in cleaning up, thank heavens for dishwashers. I set the coffee machine to self clean and started on the hotplate.

"You missed a great ride Gabs,” Gret advised.
"Some of us have responsibilities,” I airily pronounced surveying the fully extended dining table. Even so, with all those eating it was pretty crammed.
"Sorry I'm late,” a familiar voice offered – bum, I forgot Max was coming.
"Its alright Max, we’re running a bit late anyhow,” Mum advised, "If you sit next to Gab at the end there, oh everyone, this is Gabs boyfriend Max.”
Thanks Mum! Talk of embarrassing.
"Hi everyone,” von Strechau supplied colouring a bit.

As you might guess, the revelation of this supposed affiliation caused something of a twitter, Mand, the moo, quite happily answering questions from my team mates. Josh caught my eye and raised a brow, I mouthed ‘later’ - its not like he fancies me or anything, we’re just mates.

Mum’s ‘lunch’ was of course a full blown English Sunday roast – roast lamb, Yorkshire’s, proper gravy – never was there such a cultural gap between the English and German nations. Mind you that doesn’t mean our visitors weren’t appreciative and there wasn’t much left on the table once the locusts had done. And the piece de resistance – rhubarb crumble with ice cream, mmmm!

I was that taken with my dinner I forgot about the elephant in the room.

"So, Max, how long have you been going out with our Gabs?” Tali prodded.
"Tal!” I hissed.
"What? I was only asking.”
"Well don’t alright.”
"It’s alright Gab,” Max put in, "I don’t mind.”
"I do,” I huffed.
"So?” Gret joined the fray.
Why me?
"We were in the same class at school,” Max allowed.
"You never said you’d got a hunk Gabs,” Tali pushed on.
"We’re just friends,” I got out through gritted teeth.
"Oh before I forget,” Max addressed me.
"What?”
"Gran said you can borrow the rocks again for the wedding.”
"Er tell her thanks.”
“Rocks? Wedding? Gabs?” Gret queried.

Can things get any worse?

"Not mine Gret,” I sighed, not mine.

Maddy Bell © 15.03.17