Gaby Book 16 - Sweet Sixteen

Sweating on the Line

Gran came with us on Monday morning; we’re going into Manchester once we’re done with BC.
“Told you not to go mad,” Mum told me.
“I didn’t,” I groaned.
“Many!” Mand observed.

The traffic crept along – the joys of commuting I guess, on the other hand we were making progress, when we crossed the M6 it resembled a car park, three solid lanes going nowhere. It was an earlier start today, we were supposed to be at the Velodrome for nine, with the traffic we arrived at ten past. We signed in, Gran got a pass for the stands and I headed for the loos!

I was still feeling a bit green when we got to the testing lab, I was only too happy for Mand to go through the torture session first. It takes nearly as long to get all wired up as the actual session, not sure what it tells them really, you get a sheet with loads of figures and some fancy graphs but what it means? I waited next door, there was a pile of cycling magazines, so I was soon lost reading about David Millar’s return to the peloton after his drugs suspension, the numpty.

“Gaby?”
“Eh?”
“Your turn,” Marcus told me.

With a sigh I followed him into the lab where Pauline, the other technician was finishing Mand’s extraction from the technology.

An hour later I was sat in a room with Chris Toynbee and Caro.
“So how’s it going?” Chris asked.
“Er okay I guess, might’ve been better without the er hospital visits.”
“Yes your dad told us about all that, but since you got back in the saddle?”
“The forms coming I guess.”
He shuffled his printouts, “Your figures are a bit down on last time but you’re still outperforming everyone else, so nothing to worry about there. Apparently you’ve grown a bit.”
“I have?”
“162cm ”
“A whole centimetre,” I allowed.
“Well almost two actually,” he stated.
“Don’t think I’ll ever be a six foot Amazon, will I?” I sighed.
Caro chuckled, “How tall is your sister?”
“Same as Mum, five sixish?”
“Well you might catch up,” Chris opined with a glance at Caro.
Yeah and Chris Hoy will win the Tour.
“Let’s talk programme, Caro?”

I left the meeting taller and befuddled and headed up to the stands to find Gran and Manda. I spotted them halfway along the main straight, I couldn’t see Mum but there were quite a few riders on the boards so I might’ve missed her.

“Heya.”
“Done?” Gran queried.
“Yeah,” I agreed dropping into a seat.
“Your Mum’s just finished, she’ll come find us when she’s changed.”
“They’re practising for the team pursuit,” Mand mentioned from beyond Gran.

I guess if I was a trackie the pursuit is where I’d concentrate, it’s like intense time trialling unlike track sprinting which is quite different to riding a hundred K then dashing for the line. The track was cleared and we watched as the guys were lined up below us to start, there wasn’t anyone for them to chase so this was pure time trial.
CRACK!

They were on their way. When you see it on the telly it’s quite exciting, are they up, down, the cheering – it’s quite a spectacle. In an empty velodrome with no opposition, well it’s not quite the same although watching the changes, the skill that involves to get it right, is exciting in a way.

It wasn’t silent around the track, the coaching staff were shouting instructions and a few of the temporarily displaced riders joined in the encouragement. These guys are the crème de la crème and you could tell. Another bang ended the effort and before the pursuiters were off the boards other riders were back circling the track.

“Okay?” Mum asked joining us a few minutes later.
“The men’s pursuiters just did a 3.59,” I told her.
“They’ll need to go faster than that at the worlds if they are to podium.”
“Are we ready for some shopping?” Gran enquired.
“As long as there’s coffee,” I suggested.
“You and your coffee,” Mand chuckled.

I’m not the biggest shopping fan but shopping with Mum and Gran brings things down to a new level of distress. I mean M&S isn’t exactly style central and Debenhams…

“Why don’t you two go where you want, we’ll meet in the food court at,” Mum checked her watch, “three?”
“’Kay,” I agreed.
“Right,” Mand allowed.
“See you later then.”

We trailed around the shops, I did pick up a copy of the Comic in Menzies but nothing else caught my eye – or Mand’s. The fashions are different to back home, seems the prostitute look does it in Manchester, as everything was tight, short and lurid. The department stores are at best poor imitations of Kaufhaus and so on, the Wolford section in Bonn is bigger than the total hosiery area in John Lewis!
It was raining now so we abandoned a walk outside of the Arndale and headed back to the food court.

“The shops are crap here, aren’t they?” Mand stated.
“A bit,” I agreed.

A quick glance from where we were sat revealed nothing but national chains in their look-alike stores. Go to Nottingham, Liverpool, Bristol and they’ll look the same, have the same stock, the streets just carbon copies of each other. Okay so you’ll find a bit of that back in Germany but you get different stuff in the shops and different shops.

Back at Gran’s and she insisted on washing our cycling kit, well not just our kit of course, a load of underwear etc went through the machine too. With a nine thirty flight in the morning it would have to be an early night so Gran was feeding us at home tonight.

“I’ve not had a stew like that for an age,” Mum declared.

Well neither had I, I don’t know what she puts in her stews but Gran’s are always – better. It might be the suet dumplings, or the meat or the gravy but whatever it is they are the best.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Gran grinned, “Rhubarb crumble anyone?”
“Me, me, me!”
“Really, Gab!” Mum admonished.
“Leave her alone, Jen, she’s a growing girl.”
“Two centimetres,” Mand mumbled, I think I might’ve mentioned it several times this afternoon.
“I’ll start the custard,” Gran told us.

“You’d best have these?” Gran told me passing a package and envelope to me, “Happy birthday, love.”
I took the offered goods, “Thanks, Gran,” I enthused.
“That’s alright, love, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?”
“‘Course not, can I open it?”
“Mum?” mater asked.
“Well I won’t see you at the weekend will I?”

At a guess the parcel was clothing of some sort given it was soft and very bendy; I set to carefully undoing the wrapping. The slightly cheesy ‘you are sixteen’ outer layer revealed a second covering of pink tissue paper, this didn’t come from Marks! I opened the tissue to find – well I’m not sure.

“Let’s see then?” Mand demanded.
Whatever it is it’s silk and black and gorgeous. I lifted it out and held it out.
“Your mother sent me your sizes,” Gran mentioned.

It was a dress – well I guess I am a girl, a posh dress of the Eloise Couture type but whilst not High Street fashion, it reeked style that a bandeau tube of gold Lycra will never have. I held it up in front of me.

“It’s lovely, Mum.”
“Thanks Gran, not sure when I’ll wear it though.” I leant over and gave her a hug.
“Oh I think you’ll find places and I’m sure there’s at least one of your friends who’ll enjoy seeing you in it.”
“Gran!”
“Don’t go all coy on me, young lady, I’m not that old, nor am I blind.”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Not that record again,” Manda mumbled.
“Ah so you know who I mean then,” Gran grinned.
“You tricked me!”
“You not opening your card kiddo?” Mum suggested.
“Forgot about that, where is it?”
“Here,” Mand waggled the envelope.

Of course there was the expected card but inside something completely unexpected. I read the slip of paper again.

“Is this real?”
“100%,” Gran confirmed.
“But it’s for a thousand pounds.” I announced.
“Cool!” Mand opined.
“Your sister got the same, can’t I treat my granddaughters?” Gran told me.
“She never said,” I noted.
“She didn’t want to make you jealous, kiddo,” Mum told me.
“So I can spend it on anything?”
“That’s up to you love, I hope you don’t just fritter it away but yes, I make no demands, use it for things that make you happy,” Gran stated.
“You can get that Metallica tattoo, Gab!” Mand offered.
“Ma-and!”
“I think your Mum might have something to say about that,” Gran noted.
“She was only joking, Gran, it’s Abba,” I chortled.

“Ring me when you get home,” Gran instructed her daughter.
“Course, Mum.”
They parted and I took Mum’s place in a hug.
“And you, take care of yourself love, enjoy your birthday, eh?”
“I will, thanks for the presents, Gran,”
“You’re welcome, love.”
She released me from the hug and I dabbed at the forming tears.
“Come here, Mand,” Gran pulled her into an equally fierce embrace, “look after yourself and keep an eye on Gaby, eh?”
“I will, Mrs P,”
“We need to move, Mum, come on, girls.”

We got into the Kuga and with damp eyes all round we pulled out of the drive and turned towards the airport.

Maddy Bell 15.06.16