Well it was hardly an avalanche of customers, by the time Con rolled up I'd done precisely two cups of coffee and surprisingly a steak and kidney pie! Not exactly high finance but it’s early days, if you’ve ever been to Germany you’ll know that a lot of shops and attractions don’t open until ten and hence it’s often quiet before then.

"Gurgh!” Con gasped.
"What’s up with you?”
"That flippin’ hill,” she advised setting a cup of coffee going.
"Thanks, that’d be nice.”
"Eh?”
"The usual please.”
"Oh right,” the pfennig finally dropped, “busy?”
"Not so’s you’d notice.”
"It’ll be better later.”
"Let’s hope so.”

 
The remainder of the morning you wouldn’t call busy, more steady than anything, mostly coffee but I did my first Frikadel – hey I can cook more than sausages! However come lunchtime it was sausage in its various forms that became the food of choice – maybe they’ll get a bit more adventurous in time.

"Well I'm gonna have a pie for dinner,” I stated scooping up a portion of Pommes to accompany said pie.
"Coffee?” Kris suggested.
"Nah, Sprite.”
"You eating in here?” Con queried.
"Think I'll go al fresco.”
"Hark at her!”

Kris failed to contain a snort as she handed me a bottle from the fridge.

"There’s something missing,” I mumbled looking at my lunch. Pie – check, chips – check.
“Mayo? Ketchup?” Kris proposed.
"Gravy,” I stated, “maybe some peas.”
"You are so weird, Gaby Bond,” Con offered, "Gravy?”
"What’s wrong with gravy?”
"On pastry?”
"Yeah,” I defended, "Let’s have some cutlery.”

 
I plonked myself out of the way at a table by the fence and after a swig of lemonade started on my food. Who’d have thought I'd be sitting here, in Germany, me, Gaby Bond, eating pie and chips, quite a twist eh? Frites aren’t the best accompaniment to pies, proper thick English chips are the way but I don’t think Altenahr is quite ready for that yet.

Musing to myself I pushed fried potato across the plate, hmm I bet Josh’d enjoy this, he was a right pie head when we were in Manchester last year. There was something I was gonna do for Josh, what was it now? I flicked at my Handy, hmm, Cav! I said I'd talk to Cav.
I speared a couple of Frites and a chunk of pie as I waited for the phone to connect.

“Mark’s phone.”
"Er hi is he about please?” I asked the voice.
"Hey Cav, some girl on your phone!”
"What you answering my phone for?” Cav’s voice quested, "Hello?”
“Mark?”
"Speaking, who’s that?”
"Gab?”
“Bond! The only rider smaller than me!”
"I am a girl,” unfortunately.
"And perfectly formed in every way,” he blundered on.
"When you’ve quite done, I do have a boyfriend,” did I really say that?
"So to what do I owe this pleasure?”

I paused to let a noisy tourist bus pass before replying.

"I was talking to Josh at the weekend.”
"How is big oik?”
"Okay, anyway we were talking about last year, you know Italy and stuff?”
"That was a blast,” Cav stated, "That beach by the hotel was ace.”
"Er yeah,” my thoughts drifted momentarily to another Italian attraction, one who’s phone number is but a few key strokes away. “Um so anyway, we were just wondering if you’d heard anything about this year, you know with you being tight with DB?”
"Hang on, let me just get somewhere more private, flappy ears.”

I popped the contents of my fork in my cake hole as I waited for Cav.

"Hmm, that’s better.”
"Wosh sa zecrit?”
"You eating?”
Oops, I swallowed the food, "Er pie and chips.”
"Really?”
“’S my lunch,” I defended, "So, Italy?”
"Right, yeah, look you didn’t hear this from me.”
"Whatever.”
“Dave wants to send a fresh team to Switzerland, increase the pool if you like, they’ll do Italy before like last year but no Manchester like the rest of you did.”
"So we don’t get to defend our titles?”
“Unless you get picked for Germany.”
"As if!” I snorted, "So we just get dumped for these new guys?”
"There’s some good new lads coming through, that Bradley kid, there’s a couple of Welshies that are pretty good too.”
"Yeah,” I sighed.
"We’re not dumped, Gab, don’t book anything last week of August.”
"Why not?”
"Think Spain.”
"The Vuelta?”
"You daft moo, not the Vuelta, there’s a junior five day, pretty sure you’ll be on the squad.”

Spain eh? I know Mum goes quite a bit but I've never been to the mainland, we had a package holiday to Majorca once mind.

"You still there?”
"Er yeah, just thinking.”
"Thought I could hear cogs turning.”
"Cheeky sod.”
"So what’re you doing?”
"At work, we opened our kiosk yesterday,” I puffed down the phone, "Road session later. You?”
"At the gym, toning up the ol’ quads, look best get back to it, speak soon eh?”
"Er yeah, thanks, Mark.”
“’S what friends are for, Bond, see ya.”
"Yeah bye.”
"Sounds a bit of alright.”
"She’s got a boyfriend...brrrrrrr.”

Don’t think I was supposed to hear that last bit.

"Gis a hand, Gab!” Con yelled over.

I shook myself back out of my musings, apparently the full load of holidaymakers on that coach have decided to eat at our meagre premises.

 
“Phew, thought we were never getting to the end.” Kris mentioned.
I started to scrape down the hotplate, "They buy plenty.”
"Yeah,” Con grinned, “must’ve taken over two hundred.”
"Guess you want lunch then?”
"After we’ve cleaned up, Kris?”
"I'll put you some pommes on.”
 
It was a lot steadier the rest of the afternoon, sales shifting towards coffee and cake although not exclusively.

"Right I'm off.”
“’Kay, see you in the morning,” Con called back.

I pushed my steed into action – oh yeah Dad stuck the Schauff in the Hymer this morning. It’s been a while since I've had the lumpy city bike up here although I sometimes ride up to the Tanzklub but between here and there is the tunnel and a steep drop. I sailed through the short tunnel and legs akimbo could be heard to utter a joyful ‘wheeeee!’ as I descended.

Then it was one of those ‘oh bum’ moments. On the road bike I can be doing fifty K down here, hit the anchors going into the bend, get well laid over then I'm pedalling again as I exit. The Schauff has crappy brakes, I heaved at the levers trying to defeat the laws of physics but with little effect on my speed.

I took a chance that nothing was coming up and girl-handled the lump of bike onto a trajectory that would get me through the turn. It was a struggle not to close my eyes, but it did mean I spotted the motorbike coming up and was able to convince my conveyance to change course enough to avoid a collision. There was a distinct odour of burning from the rear hub brake by the time I was back at a sensible speed – note to self, go slower!

 
"So how was the world famous snack emporium today?” Mand asked as we started the climb up to Esch. We’ve got a ride around the lanes this evening, up to Meckenheim then across to drop into Remagen before returning up the valley.
"Not bad.”
"Not bad? what’s that mean?”
"Well not bad, we had a few customers.”
"Talk about blood out of a stone.”
"We did get like a coach of tourists all wanting lunch which was pretty hectic.”
"Now you see, that's telling me something.”

Conversation ceased as we hit the steeper section, we were up at Esch before we picked up again.

"Spoke to Cav earlier,” I dropped.
"As in short arse from the Isle of Man?”
"He’s not that short,” I proffered in his defence.
"Shorter than me.”
"Only just.”
"So what’s he want, a date?”
"I rang him.”
"You floozy!”
“Do you want to hear or not?”
"Go on then.”
"This goes no further,” I cautioned.
"Who am I going to tell?”
"I dunno,” I admitted.
"Well get on with it then.”
"Right, looks like we might be going to Spain in August instead of Switzerland.”
"Really?”
"Word is that BC are taking some new riders to Switzerland, then the more experienced squad do this five day thing in Spain.”
"Well I won’t be booking my bikini just yet.”
"You’re bound to get picked.”
"I wouldn’t be so sure, when I spoke to Claire the other week she said there’s loads of good new girls this year.”
"As good as Speedy de Vreen?”
"I'm not that good.”
"Well we’ll just have to make sure you are then, sign up!” I slipped up a gear and stood on the pedals.
 
Maddy Bell © 23.03.17