*Chapter 29*
Cosplay Heroine
We settled on the Bad Münstereifel circuit we did a few weeks ago, nothing too desperate hill wise, it gets the miles in without taking too much out of the tank. It was cold but not so much that there was ice anywhere; in fact I even left my woolly hat at home opting instead for a ski band under my helmet. The sky was a universal grey, depressing but at the same comforting, it didn’t look like there’d be any rain while we were out.
It was on the climb up into Altenahr that something flapped past my eyes, I automatically batted it away.
“What you up to?” Mand demanded.
“Something hanging.” I swiped at the offending item again.
“You daft moo, it's your braids,” she guffawed.
At this point I should point out that I usually have my hair in a single braid when I’m riding but for some reason this morning I put it into two.
“It doesn’t usually do this.”
“I bet you just don’t notice it,” Mand proposed.
“Maybe,” I agreed plucking at the offending rope of hair.
After all those weeks before Christmas where I was off the bike today is perhaps the first time I’ve really felt ‘bike’ fit. My feet are still a bit sore from the frostbite episode but my hands, thankfully seem okay now. The difference I guess is that Mand has progressed while I’ve been working my way back, she might not be at 100% Bond level but she’s currently at 75% Bond which is where I am.
The net result is that we’re fairly evenly matched; at least on rides like this morning, today we are trading pedal stroke for pedal stroke. Erika Preiser tooted when she crossed us at Kreuzberg, we managed a wave in return – surprisingly we don’t really see that many people we know on these rides. Well we don’t see many other cyclists out there and we know there are quite a few living hereabouts.
We tapped up to Effelsburg at a steady pace; I hesitated slightly when Mand started sprinting for the sign, which let her take it by a wheel.
“Gotcha!” she gasped as we returned to a steadier pace.
“I was distracted,” I claimed waggling a braid at her.
“That’s clutching at straws, I beat you fair and square.”
“Hmmph!”
That was the only sprint Mand took but where last year I would’ve had several lengths over de Vreen, today it’s been a lot closer. This whole girl thing has cost me more than I thought, my chances of being picked for the ‘open’ category by BC will be slim if I can’t get that zip back. We got back home, cold but not exhausted, four sprints to one in my favour, it should’ve been five nil.
“Your hair doesn’t look so harsh now,” Mum mentioned as I made a sandwich before going to work.
“Um?”
“Did any colour wash out when you showered?”
“No idea wasn’t looking.”
“Well it looks a lot more natural, best have a play, see if we can make it more Sara Jane later eh?”
“I guess.”
“Er can you get the meat out for dinner?” I requested having just remembered I was cooking again later.
“I will, you leaving any of that Branston in the jar?”
Oops, I’d spooned rather a lot onto my cheese and tomato.
“Er soz.”
When I got to Thesing’s the first thing I noticed was the board outside advertising the specials, not that inside was any busier than usual.
“Any takers,” I enquired taking my coat off.
“A couple earlier on,” Therese advised.
“Won’t happen straight off I guess.”
“Tomas put boards on the Radweg and where you cross to the Bahnhof.”
“There’s still not a lot of people about I guess, I’m sure they’ll come though.”
“I’ll leave you two to it, if you get a rush you know where I am,” she grinned.
It was looking like a regular Saturday afternoon, a couple of order collections and Frau Haan stopped off for a coffee with her shopping.
“We coulda been at the pool with the others,” Con moped.
“Yeah,” I agreed. I might not be a great swimmer but you don’t go to swim anyway do you?
“Like your hair,” my BF noted.
“Cheers,” Mum put it into a braided bun before I came out so it was less distracting. “You set for tomorrow?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t like there was much to do, I had everything except the cloak and mask already.”
Before I could reply our attention was pulled to the front of the shop, outside there must’ve been almost twenty cyclists.
“Sugar!” I allowed.
“I’ll get Mum,” Con mumbled.
We usually only serve at the counter but clearly that wasn’t going to work very well with this lot. I remember back in England it could be a nightmare getting everyone’s order in, inevitably some would still be waiting for food or drinks while others were done. Table service was the only way to speed the process up, so after getting the ‘RadKlub Endspurt Leverkusen 02’ inside and seated, I found an order pad and started taking their orders.
The ‘specials’ might’ve brought them in but that doesn’t mean their orders were restricted to those items. Seems we caught them on the way to Remagen where they were getting the train back home after a ride around the Hohe Eifel, after a day in the saddle, the promise of coffee and cake was just too tempting. The cake cabinet was looking very diminished and Therese had to zap more soup to satisfy demand.
I don’t really look like me at the moment and realistically there wasn’t any reason for these guys, and they were all male, to recognise me. It was a little strange being on the outside of the conversations about bikes and riders prowess. Kind of fun too, eavesdropping on their ‘wisdom’ on carbon, the latest pedals, whether Italians make better parts than the Japanese.
“Well, that was nice,” Therese allowed as we started the clear up.
“There’re some cafes back in England that are busy like that all the time, cycling clubs head for them, there’s one where you nearly always had to queue to get in.” I mentioned.
“If we had a couple of groups it would help,” Mrs T noted.
“Maybe this is the start?” I suggested.
“As long as they don’t all turn up together,” Con stated.
Now that I could agree with, its hard work brewing all that coffee one cup at a time, the positive was the tip we got, twenty euros – anything they had saved we’d got anyway. We get a flat rate of pay in Thesing’s, you don’t get many tips or very much in a bakery, €20 is more than joins the jar most months. It was quite satisfying that there had been some return on day one of ‘my’ scheme, how it will go in the future who knows.
“…And it was like a real cyclist café.” I enthused as I browned the meat for our pie.
“We used to go to one at Hever, if you were knackered you could get a train back to Croydon.”
“Croydon? I thought you rode for Catford?” I mentioned swishing the meat around the pan.
“I do, well did but we live at Addington which is like as far as Ahrweiler is from Croydon, well you know what I mean. So these want chopping into cubes?”
“Well smallish bits, you know, about two centimetres.”
“’Kay,” Mand returned her attention to the taters.
We could get six portions out of the big pie dish, a big enamel thing made in Sheffield especially for the cities signature dish (1) . Traditionally you have mushy peas but this is Germany so the best we could manage was a couple of tins of processed Erbsen. What we do have is that most prized of condiments in the North Midlands, Henderson’s Relish.
“Dig in,” I enthused once everyone was seated.
The Bond’s are no strangers to meat and tatty but Manda and Boris were more circumspect. I’ll give Boris his due; taking his lead from Jules he ladled some mint sauce onto his peas and a shake of the brown elixir over his pie. Mand wasn’t quite sure what to make of all that and just went for salt and pepper.
The thing is, its already quite peppery so adding more, well maybe a bit much, but Hendo’s, well it lifts the flavour.
“Come on Mand, even Boris has got Hendo’s on his dinner,” I chivvied.
“He’s probably got a stronger stomach than me.”
“Its not strong,” Mum offered.
“I thought it was like soy sauce, it looks like soy sauce.” Mand suggested.
“Nothing like,” I opined.
“Just try a little bit,” Jules suggested.
“Its really okay,” Boris added.
“Go on then.”
I leant over and shook a few drops onto her pie. “Give that a go.”
We all watched her tentatively stab some newly flavoured potato and take a bite.
“Well?”
“Its okay I guess,” she allowed.
I hadn’t been left to do the whole meal, Mum had made a rice pudding, which I know Boris likes, well who doesn’t like homemade rice pud. Even so I don’t think he gets the jam thing as he had a dollop of all three on the table in his dish. For me, well I prefer it naked!
“We’ll be late!”
“No you wont,” Mum told me again, “there, done.”
She’d been fussing for fifteen minutes with her curling tongs and I now sported a hairdo that resembled the Sara Jane look in my picture.
“Hold still and close your eyes.”
I’m sure she used half a can of hair lacquer on my head, my hair was going nowhere!
“You got everything?”
“Yes Mum.”
“Well enjoy yourselves – and take care, Manda?”
“We will.”
“Right, off with you, don’t want to miss the Express.”
I just said…urgh!
“Morning girls, early start,” Myleen mentioned.
“We’re going to Koblenz, there’s a convention thing we’re going to,” Steff told our favourite conductor.
“Wondered what all the hair was about.” I wasn’t the only one sporting a dubious hairstyle. “You not joining in Amanda?”
“Not my thing, I get to hold their handbags.”
Mand’s German was a bit stilted but Myleen seemed to understand okay, I guess their paths cross quite regularly on her commute to school.
“Might be safest looking at this lot, you dyed your hair Gaby?”
“Its only temporary,” I quickly blurted.
“It looks very nice, suits you.”
“Um thanks.”
“Have a good time then ladies, oh, there might be some delays coming back up, they’re replacing some signals down at Remagen.”
“Thanks Myleen, at least we know,” Pia told her.
“I’d best check some more tickets, have fun.”
She left us to make the most of the warm carriage for another twenty minutes before we have to get cold on Remagen’s windswept platforms.
(1) Check out ‘Gaby’s Comfort Food’ available through Lulu and Kindle for full recipes for Meat & Potato pie and Rice Pudding.
Maddy Bell 07.06.16
