Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Flippin’ annoying machine.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
My heart thumped heavily in my chest as though trying to break free of its home.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Getting air into my lungs was proving an unexpected effort.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Voices, familiar but distant.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
I turned my head in that general direction but what with my heart going nineteen to the dozen and my struggle for breath my eyes failed to actually focus on anything.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
A wash of tepid air blew over me and the annoying beep decreased a tad.

Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
The hammering in my chest started to subside, the voices became clearer, my fight for air less and my eyes started to actually focus.

“You alright, Gab?” Anja enquired as she slid to a halt beside me, “we got caught behind that tractor, I guess you got past okay.”
“Er yeah,” I supposed, well I could talk at least.
“Come on, you two,” Tina called as she slid past and around the island.

By the time I was moving again even Mand had caught up and I found myself on her wheel as we transited Daun town centre. The incessant beep was back to a more usual rate, less noticeable as it recorded a more normal level of heart activity. It was only a couple of minutes ride to the Steakhouse zum Dorfbrunnen, an unexciting modern building a short way outside of the Altstadt, I was surprised to see Mum’s A Klasse already outside as well as Henryck Pinger’s big Audi saloon.

Dad, Hen and Kat were already sat at one of the outside tables and in short order the rest of us parked bikes and claimed seats.

“Drinks are on their way, food’ll be about fifteen,” Dad advised.

George arrived in the bus, he’d had to take a longer route than we could on the bikes and there was soon an impromptu street striptease. Well not striptease per se, but the removal of damp jerseys and replacement with a variety of tracky tops and T’s. As cyclists you can’t afford to be shy, less so at the pro level but you get used to the poor or non-existent changing and toilet facilities, a degree of public nudity is almost inevitable.

“There a toilet?”
“Inside and round to the right, kiddo,” Mum supplied as she swapped her footwear.

I sat on the throne head in hands and finally let my emotions get the upper hand, a few dry sobs breaking free. My immediate needs were quickly done but I remained sat, unwilling, no, unable to move. Well not strictly true, I was shaking like a leaf.

Why I hear you ask? Well let’s be right, I'm pretty sure most people would be gibbering wrecks at the very least after that experience. Experience? that’s right, you don’t know do you, guess I'd best rewind and explain what brought me to this.

You remember the tractor, well I pulled out to pass it…

What I hadn’t seen as I approached the agricultural juggernaut was that there were three big silage trailers and the tractor itself was preparing to turn left. I say preparing, it was currently paused waiting for a fast moving truck coming towards us at some speed to clear the turning. It’s not a particularly wide road and with the tractor already starting its albeit paused turn the available road for me between it and the oncoming juggernaut was, how can I put it, non-existent.

My options at this point were somewhat limited, stopping a bike doing over forty kph requires maybe twenty metres, more possibly if you are to do it safely and I had maybe fifteen of those metres. I was already committed to my manoeuvre and to abort now wouldn’t have a good result and my guess was that there wasn’t time for me to get to the opposite curb before the truck. All that remained was to keep going and pray I didn’t become a mascot affixed to the front of the truck.

It was over in what, five seconds, four? I was right on the white line, slipping just to the right gave me the few centimetres that the speeding truck, horn blaring, missed me by. No mascot but the pressure wave nearly did for me instead, forcing me closer to the trailers than is healthy.
I popped through a gap no more than half a metre wide between tractor and juggernaut like a champagne cork which was when I opened my eyes. The remaining distance to the Daun sign was done without pedalling, I let my momentum carry me to the roundabout where the others caught up with me a couple of minutes later.

A couple of minutes during which the adrenalin really kicked in, the heart rate monitor Dad’s had me wearing the last few weeks beeping away at an alarming rate as I gathered myself slumped over my bars. I do not want to repeat that, ever!

“Gab? You in there? food’s on the table,” Mand’s voice broke through my fug.
“Uh huh.”
“You alright?”
“Er yeah, be right there.”
“You sure?”
“I said so didn’t I?” my snappiness was uncalled for but I'm not going to admit I was still shaky.
“All right, just checking.”

I waited until I heard her leave the rest room before concluding my business, redressing and then exiting the cubicle. Hands and face washed, hair redone I set off to rejoin the Apollinaris food fest outside.

“All right, Gabs?” Kat enquired as I squeezed in beside her.
“Yeah fine,” I lied.

As advertised our food was on the table, a decent sized piece of steak was already on my plate and tureens of veggies and rice were doing the rounds, no Pommes worst luck. It was a bit weird watching Mum and the other seniors, their interaction – long weeks sharing table and almost everything else has obviously made them into a tight knit family. Despite not feeling like eating my stomach and reputation told me not doing so wasn’t an option so I snagged a bowl of Rotkohl and started to load my plate.

“Your mum was saying you’re opening the old kiosk in Altenahr again?” Kat probed.
“Er yeah,” I allowed swapping the first dish with another doing the peas and carrots thing, “my friend, Con, her parents are paying for it and me an’ Con’ll be running it.”
“Neat,” she allowed sawing into her own slab of cow.
“What are you up to, not seen you for ages.”
“Same old,” she advised.

Same old for Kat is of course working as team dogsbody for the senior squad, not glamorous but she goes where they go.

“Thought you were supposed to be doing some sports science thing?” I suggested as I loaded my plate with rice.
“I am, sort of part time, weren’t you supposed to be going to college?”
“September, hospitality management down in Koblenz.”
“Bit over the top to run a Frite stand,” she suggested.
“Har de har, is that pepper sauce?”
“Yeah,” Kat agreed passing it over.

With consumption of calories underway conversation turned to less weighty matters, my hair colour, her on/off boyfriend – well you know the sort of stuff girls talk about. At least it took my mind off my earlier close shave on the way here.

Mand gave a loud yawn, “I'm knackered.”

With four of us in the A our bikes had to find alternative transport back to the Ahrtal, the team bus, Dad’ll collect them tomorrow.

“You’re quiet, kiddo,” Mum suggested as we retraced our route back towards Kelberg where we’ll take the road north to Adenau.
“Long day.” I suggested.
“Sounds like you both need an early night.”
“What about me?” Dad put in.
“Hmm, wouldn’t say no myself.”
“Mu-um,” I groaned.
“What? Can’t your parents have an early night.”
“It’s not the early night; it’s what you get up to.”
Mand snorted. It’s alright for her it’s not her parents doing the bed bouncing.
“I don’t know what you mean, Gaby Bond,” said Mumsy trying but failing to sound affronted.

Beep, beep! We all gave the occupants of the passing Audi a wave, no space issue in the Pinger’s transport.

“You need a lift?” Mum enquired as I primped in the door of of the microwave.
“Thought Dad was having the car today?”
“Not till later, I can drop you two off.”

I didn’t really need a lot of persuading, the combination of tight skirt and heels isn’t the most conducive to public transport and forget Gaby power, even Mum’s driving is a better way to make the six kilometre or so journey. Why am I done up like a dogs dinner? Our meeting with Herr Bayermann at the Tourist Info of course.

“In that case yes please.”

Mum dropped us as close as she could to Marktplatz but we still had to walk several hundred metres. Con was less severely dressed than yours truly, maybe I should’ve gone for a dress instead of this skirt and maybe the heels are a bit much.
“Ten to,” Con noted after a glance at the clock on the church tower.
“Early’s always good.”
“You’ve got the sketches?”
“’Course,” I told her patting my poshest shoulder bag.

Once at the Tourist office we used the window to check our appearance before joining the customers inside.

The look on the snooty moo’s face when we presented ourselves was priceless, she must’ve recognised us but we certainly don’t look like two teen time wasters this morning.

“If you take seats, Herr Bayermann should be here shortly.”
“Danke,” I allowed before leading my companion across to the couple of utilitarian chairs supplied for customers.
“Her face,” Con whispered once we were seated.
“That was the idea of getting togged up,” I pointed out, “this looks like our guy.”

Con joined me in assessing the new arrival, I guess mid thirties in typical beige smart casual as favoured by office types in these parts. There was an exchange with Snotty resulting in him glancing our way before concluding his conversation. Our assumption was confirmed when he then came over to us.

“Good morning, ladies, would you like to come through,” he invited.
“Thank you,” I agreed rising as elegantly as I could with ten centimetre heels.

He led the way behind the counter and behind a frosted glass screen into what passes for the office.

“Sorry, Freddy Bayermann,” he told us offering his hand.
“Connie Thesing.”
“Gabrielle Bond,” we each pressed flesh in turn.
“Coffee?”
“Er please.”
He poked his head back past the screen, “Can we get some coffee, please, Susan?”

“Please,” he indicated the visitor chairs.
“Thank you,” I replied taking the lead, Con apparently content to let me do the talking.

We settled ourselves on the, at least padded if not greatly comfortable, seating before Herr Bayermann went on.

“So what can we do for you?”

Maddy Bell © 04.02.17

 

“What the...?” Dave exclaimed to the empty house.

It’s probably a glitch with the HRM or the software. After all when Chris had asked him to start monitoring the girls with the devices he had mentioned the recording units weren’t the usual commercially available things. Maybe reloading the data will sort it?

He slipped his daughters unit back into the download interface, pulled up the relevant screen on the laptop and hit ‘upload’. It took less than thirty seconds to make the transfer and a couple of keystrokes later the results appeared in graph form. A scroll across the data, if you knew what you were looking at you could just about map last night’s ride from rise and fall of the BPM alone.

But there it was again, so not a glitch, a clear jump from the mid one fifties to almost one eighty where it stayed for a couple of minutes before spiking to one eight five, well above the VO² max BC had recorded in Manchester. Not only that but the recovery period looked quite long – oh it dropped back to the ‘active normal’ level but compared to Mand’s graph, significantly longer than expected. There’s something not right here, is she suffering some infection? Illness will often push the numbers upwards but Sunday’s figures looked pretty normal and she’s not mentioned any illness.

“I'm back!” Jen called out.
“In the office.”
“Tea?”
“Please, Gab said anything about feeling off colour?”
There was a pause, well Mrs Bond was putting the kettle on before going through to the office, “She’s not said anything to me, why?”
“Have a look at this,” Dave twisted the computer around so his wife could see the screen.
“Heart rates?”
“Yeah,” Dave confirmed, “top’s Gab, Manda on the bottom.”
“So what am I looking at?”
“Well look, they mirror each other most of the time,” he traced the line, “the climb up to Maria Laach, down the other side and so on.”
“Okay,” Jen allowed as the kettle announced reaching a boil in the kitchen.
“They go the same all the way until this last bit.”
“Gab took off like a scalded cat for the Daun sign,” Jen pointed out.
“Mand’s numbers go up too,” he traced the line, “but then she recovers quickly see?”
“But Gabs stays high,” his wife noted.
“Not just high, it spikes at the point Manda’s starts to lower.”
“You think there’s something wrong, Dave?” Jen asked with concern.
“I don’t know, she’s not said anything to you?”
“Ut uh. You think we should get her checked out?”
“Let’s not get carried away, I'll ring Chris in Manchester, see what he thinks.”
“I'll make that tea.”

“I'm not the expert,” Chris Toynbee admitted, “but it does sound like something that needs investigating. You at home?”
“For the next hour but I'll have my mobile,” Dave agreed.
“Can you email the file over, I'll have a word with the data crunchers, see what they think and I'll get back to you.”
“Okay.”
“Speak to you later,” Toynbee stated before hanging up.

“So?” Jen enquired, setting a mug of tea on the desk for her hubby.
“He’s going to do some digging with the number crunchers, he’ll ring back in a bit,” Dave pressed send, the data disappearing into the digital world of the WWW.
“She was a bit quiet last night,” Jen observed.
“They both were, they aren’t used to riding like that outside of a race situation, they could do with more of it.”
“Well you know they can join us,” Jen stated, “at least when we’re here.”
“Let’s get to the bottom of this before start getting ahead of ourselves.”

“It’s certainly a good spot,” Freddy Bayermann agreed passing each of the young women before him a cup of coffee.
“We think so,” the smaller girl stated.

It had been the immaculately dressed blonde who’d done most of the talking, there was a degree of confidence not often seen in youngsters, Freddy guessed his ‘clients’ were both perhaps in their late teens.

“So what can the Tourist Service do to help?”
“Well we were hoping to do some flyers and that you’d have them in the offices?”
“We don’t usually promote individual businesses,” he told them.
“I know it would be sort of advertising, I thought we could put in a discount voucher for visitors and maybe have a sort of tourist info board at the kiosk.”
‘This young woman will go far,’ Freddy thought to himself.

To be fair there weren’t actually any rules regarding promoting local businesses. a look on the rack outside would reveal lots of private enterprise but it was all ‘tourist experiences’ both near and far but why not promote local eateries, after all they did that for accommodation. The valley is hardly full of big tourist attractions, anything that encourages more visitors has got to be good for business.

“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, we’ll take your flyers and I'll look at what we can do with you at the kiosk.”
“Cool! I mean, excellent thank you.”
“So when are you opening?”
“A week Monday, we’ll have a special guest for the grand opening.”
“Anyone we know?”
“That’d be telling,” the tiny blonde observed, “of course you’re invited, I'll send you the details through next week.”
“It’s a date,” Freddy agreed.

“Grand opening? special guest? What are you on about Bond?” Connie demanded once they were back outside.
“Er I was just erm winging it.”
“But now oojimawotsit is expecting some grand do and some sort of celebrity,” Con noted.
“I'll sort something,” I offered with more confidence than I actually have.
“We’d best tell my parents.”
“Er yeah.”
“And we need to get some flyers printed as well.”
“There’s that print shop at the far end of Ahrhut’ , we should go down now.”
“It’s your feet,” Con observed.
“Come on. I need some lippy anyway.”
“Whatever.”

“Bond.”
“Dave? Chris at BC.”
“Oh hi, Chris, so?”
“Well I've had words with the number crunchers and our doctor, neither of them think there’s any cause for panic as a one off event.”
“That’s a relief,” Bond senior allowed.
“However if there’s any sign of repeat...”
“I'll be keeping a close eye.”
“The doc did suggest asking her if she felt off or anything during the episode.”
“I can do that, they have any ideas why it might spike like that?”
“Not really, maybe one day we’ll be able to gather more info out in the field which might tell us but for now...”
“Okay, leave it with me.”
“Thanks for keeping us in the loop, Dave – oh by the way, would you be up for fielding a team in the Ryedale three day over Spring Bank?”
“Apollinaris?”
“Uh huh, can probably get some help with expenses.”
Dave flicked through the diary, “We’ve only got a chipper that weekend, can I get back to you?”
“I'll fax you over the details, keep me advised on the other.”
“Sure, speak soon.”

“A thousand zed fold full colour, a hundred and fifty euros,” Con offered as we waited for the Express back up to Dernau.
“Ouch, what about black and white?”
“Still a hundred, do we need like six pages?”
“Well if we want to include the menu and stuff.”
“I see what you mean but like we don’t have to list everything do we?”
“I guess not,” I allowed, a thought suddenly popping into my head, “give us the price list.”

Indeed the ‘Print Express’ flyer was the very thing we’d been discussing, a Z fold. I dug in my bag for my notepad then flattened the flyer out.

“What are you up to?”
“Aha, thought so, it’s A4.”
“And?” Con pressed.
“Hang on,” I scanned the price list, “A4 double side colour eighty five.”
“So?”
“Well if we got them unfolded we could do that ourselves and save like sixty five euros.”
“So it’s sixty five just for the folding? Geez, what a racket.”
“It gets better, we only have to have five hundred too.”
“Is that enough?”
“Well it’s an option at least.”
“We could put details of your mystery guest on it.” she opined.

Bum, forgot about that, wonder who I can get?

“Off out again?” Mum quested.
“Got to get the squad up to scratch for Saturday.”
“Saturday?”
“We’ve got a competition at Phantasialand?”
“Right.”
“We’re practising in the park at Altenahr then Kristin’s invited us for tea after.”
“So you won’t want dinner when you get back then?”
“Never said that,” I pouted.
“I'll keep you a plate by,” Mum advised.
“Did you want me for something?” I asked pulling my trainer socks a bit straighter.
“Did something happen on last night’s ride?”

My gut lurched, my face dropped.

“Why would you think that? You were there the whole way.”
“Your dad noticed something on your HRM data, when you went off for the town sign at Daun?”

Betrayed by technology.

“Er.”
“You’re not in trouble we’re just a bit concerned, you can tell me.”
“It was nothing really.”
“It was something,” Mum observed.

I'm gonna get slain, I know I am.

Maddy Bell © 06.02.17

 
I finished my explanation, downplaying just how scared I'd been, how close to the tractor wheels – well no parent wants to hear exactly how close their offspring has come to injury or worse do they. Not that I think I fooled her for one second.

“Come here,” she pulled me into a hug and just held me.

I wasn’t tearful or anything but it did feel good to have her hold me. I think her being a cyclist herself she understands what I went through better than Dad would. No doubt she’s had similar ‘near death’ experiences that she’s not mentioned to us – yeah cycling as a sport is not for the feint hearted.

Its not like I've not had scrapes before – how many crashes have I had? Too many but cyclists aren’t footballers, we get straight back up and keep going – often when a saner person would be calling it quits. Leaving your mode of transport unexpectedly is all part of the ‘game’, its generally when motorised transport gets in the mix that things become more serious.

After a couple of minutes Mum released me, “what time are you home then?”
“Dunno, seven, eight?”
“Ring if you’re going to be later.”
“’Kay,” I groaned, parents can be so, I dunno, overprotective. “see you later.”

“I spoke to Gab earlier,” Jen advised her other half, “I think I know what caused the heart rate blip.”
Dave looked up from the pile of papers on his desk, “oh?”
Jenny perched on the edge of the work surface, “she had a bit of a scare.”
“Not the Halloween type I'm guessing.”
“And closer than she admitted to me I'm betting too.”
“Do I want to know the details?”
“Probably not Love, it definitely shook her up though but the timing’s right for the elevated figures.”
“Must’ve been some fright.”
“I think it was Dave, don’t say anything, she’ll talk if she needs to.”
“You’re the expert.”
“I've been there and mark my words, Mum would not have appreciated me telling her about every close scrape, she knew right enough but hearing it from her darling daughter would’ve had me off the bike and in cotton wool quicker than you can say ‘it was nothing’.”
“I'll suggest it to BC, I need to ring Chris again anyhow, he’s wangled an invite for us to the Ryedale three day next month.”
“The girls’ll enjoy that.”
“I've spent most of the day wheedling some extra out of George, that's what this lot is,” he indicated the papers on the desk.
“Sooner you,” Mrs Bond noted.

It was a bit weird, riding the Schauff up the valley, and for that matter using the bike path. Pia had been waiting at Rech and they idled their way along the cinder trail, there was no great rush after all.

“You listening Gab?”
“Eh?”

Okay, I had been thinking about getting to the Kiosk when we’ve opened and who I can get to do the opening.

“I said, how did you get on this morning, at the Tourist info?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Duh! You hardly shut up about it Monday night. So?”
Temporarily thrown I pedalled on a moment before getting my brain in gear, “they’ve agreed to take our flyers.”
“I sense a but,” P suggested.
“Well I sort of said we were having like a proper opening with a celebrity and everything.”
“Kewl, who is it?”
“Erm.”
“Gaby Bond, you fibber!” P’s sharp like that, my hesitation was all the clue she’d needed.
“It just sort of came out.”
“You’ll have to organise something now,” she pointed out.
“Yeah,” I agreed without much conviction.

“Sounds plausible,” Chris allowed, “I'll mention it to the number crunchers.”
“I'll keep an eye on the figures,” Dave stated, “now this Ryedale thing, I've got the go ahead from George.”
“Great, let me know who you’re bringing over and we’ll get your transport and accommodation sorted out.”
“I'll get back to you tomorrow with that,”
“I'll expect your call, have a good evening.”
“And you,” Dave finished before ending the call, now to work out who’s going.

“Bleh!” I allowed collapsing to the grass.
“I'm done in,” Lisse stated from her recumbent position behind my head.
“Tell us about it,” Kris agreed.
“It would’ve been good if Mand had been here to practice that demount,” Pia observed.
“She has been practising,” I told our little group.

I certainly felt like we’d been working hard, not ninety K on a bike hard but a couple of hours jumping and prancing about hard. Different muscles and not the same sort of intensity but woe betide anyone who thinks cheering is soft – its not if you are serious about it. My eyes closed and I let my body relax and my mind started to wander as the others conversation became a background mumble.

‘Our music started and I had the job of being first out onto the floor. Were the crowd stunned into silence or just being polite? I gave myself a little chuckle, we’ve surprised them, and I even saw the judges sit up more as we started the routine. The first part was almost in slow motion, not that you could move that quick wearing this lot. Oh I never told you did I? We’ve got our regular uniform on underneath but we’ve started in a simplified Victorian dress, no glitz or anything.

When she first explained the idea to us I wasn’t exactly keen but despite the short time we’ve worked on it I think its pretty cool. We started with a few sort of ballet moves then a bit more movement with some ribbons before forming up again as the music softened. ‘One, two, three, four, five, now!’ I counted to myself and we did a Bucks Fizz move, shedding the heavy dresses to reveal our real uniforms. I barely noticed Miss Bell help Miss Cowlishaw drag them out of the way as we went straight into our high-octane display. At the back of my mind I heard a roar of noise but there was no time to think, just count off the moves and smile, that’s what Bunny said, smile.

It seemed to last forever but be over so quick and I landed my splits spot on cue to finish. The music stopped and there was a pretty good reaction, well I thought so anyway. With so many squads taking part we were ushered off the floor and joined our ‘coaches’.’

Yeah, that’d been quite a day. Not just the cheering but the whole thing, George Mason University Fairfax campus was huge and then of course actually winning the competition. Hmm, wonder what the ‘mericans are doing now? we’ve been exchanging Chrimbo cards and stuff but we don’t exactly keep up to date with each others lives.

“You coming Gab? “Lisse queried.
“Eh?”
“Kris’s?”
Food, my belly informed my talking gear, “er yeah,” I agreed.

I told you about Kristen’s place before right, all the hunting trophies and stuff? Well thankfully her Mum thought it would be better to feed us out on the patio, I don’t think I'd enjoy eating anything with all those eyes watching.

“Dig in girls, there’s more Brötchen if you want them.”
“Thanks mum,” Kris allowed as we seated ourselves.

Don’t think me ungrateful but when someone invites me for dinner, DIY sandwiches with rabbit food isn’t what springs to mind – I hope Mum remembers to do me a plate at home or I'll starve. Well not literally but you know what I mean.

“So you think we’ve got a chance Saturday Gabs?” Lisse asked constructing her dinner from the assorted makings.
“Don’t see why not, if we get the landings right I reckon we’re as good as anyone.”
“So what were you dreaming about in the park?” P enquired.
“You were waving your arms like a windmill,” Kris added.
I was? “I was erm just remembering the competition I did in America.”
“That must’ve been well cool,” Susan opined.
“Pretty good,” I agreed stuffing my own ‘sandwich’ with sliced Frikadel and tomato.
“You’ve been everywhere Gab,” Lisse suggested.
“Hardly,” hmm, some Gurken will set that off nicely.
“America, you went to Japan last year,” P started.
“Doesn’t exactly count as everywhere.”
“Maybe not,” Kris agreed, “but compared to us mere mortals.”

I've never really thought too much about it, other people do travel but I guess its not necessarily normal. Anyway, conversation moved to other more pressing concerns like Saturdays nail polish colour and the recently announced comeback of 5ive - not that I was interested, I never rated them first time round though I recall a certain sister of mine having a wall covered in 5ive posters!

“Good session?” Mand suggested.
“Not bad,” I allowed dropping onto the sofa.
“Shower!” Dad instructed.
“Da-ad,” I groaned, well maybe I am a little er, fragrant, especially after racing the Express down to Dernau, it got the drop on me at Mayschoß as the Radweg follows the river but the train doesn’t. And I guess I am still in the stuff I was wearing for leaping about in the park – no wonder Kris’s mum fed us outside.
“Get cleaned up daughter mine,” Mum suggested, “by the time you’re clean your dinner will be ready.”
Ready? I thought she was just doing me a plate, “what is it?”
“Pasta and bolognese, you got preference?”
I know its essentially the same whatever variety of pasta but bolognese, there’s really only one way to have it, “Spaggety please.”

Mum over did the spaghetti a bit, there was enough to feed three in the bowl – I know I can eat a fair bit but really.

“Mum?”
“Hmm?” she allowed as she deftly ironed one of Dad’s shirts.
“I've sort of mucked up.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I sort of told Herr Bayermann, you know at the Tourist Info? Well I said we were having a celebrity to open the kiosk.”
Mum paused from her endeavours, “Gabrielle Bond, sometimes.”
“What am I going to do Mum?”
“You could tell him the truth?”
“But I'd look like a right plonker .”
“One of these days you’ll think before you speak, didn’t Con say anything?”
“Not till after, I sort of told her I had it in hand?”
Mum shook her head, “Gaby Bond. Look, I'm not promising anything but I might, just might know someone.”

I jumped up to give her a hug.

“Thanks Mum.”
“Watch your fo-rk.”

Too late I realised I was still clutching the bolognese loaded eating implement which of course failed to contain the dollop of sauce. It was like watching a crash in slow motion, you know the end result, you’re helpless to change the outcome but you still have to make the attempt. The bright red sauce released its grip on the fork and executed a near perfect arc to land in a wide splatter on the just ironed shirt.

“I er need to do some washing,” I suggested before I got an earful from the parental unit.
“Gaby Bond,” she shook her head again, “sometimes.”

Maddy Bell © 09.02.17

 
“Bring the power cable,” Dad instructed.
“Which one?”
“On the blue reel,” he called back as he made his way out to the bus – thankfully the buckled remains of the Mercedes have been removed so we can use the drive again.

Any ‘He Man’ I might’ve still been harbouring were given another blow when I went to pick up the reel of cable – I needed both hands just to lift the damn thing. I staggered across the workshop with it swinging between my legs – very ladylike – not!

“Ah, thanks, kiddo,” Dad took the reel from me in one hand and swung it into the bus alongside his bench saw.
“That everything?”
Dad surveyed, the gear we’d loaded, “I think so, you ready?”
“Just need to get my bag.”

With everything else going off, when Con rang last night to say we were painting up at the kiosk today I was a bit taken aback. Even more so when Dad announced he’d be starting our fence today – I'd forgotten he was doing it, oops. Not that I had anything beyond this evening’s training ride organised, I thought I was just gonna hang with Con.

Dad locked things up while I fetched my bag and after a quick stop at the bakery to collect Con we headed up to Altenahr. I’ve not been to the kiosk for a few days so I was a bit taken aback when we crossed the bridge and I got my first look at the newly rendered walls and smartly tiled roof. Con’s uncle Josef was already there and came out to meet us as Dad pulled the bus onto the pavement.

“Girls, Dave,” he greeted.
“Morning, Jo,” Dad offered, “once I've got the gear off I'll move the bus.”
“I'll give you a hand, Franz should be here with the timber anytime.”

Con and I left the two men to unload Dad’s tools and headed to our revamped kingdom.

“Wow,” I allowed, “it looks like it’s just been built.”
“Let’s see inside,” Con suggested heading around the side.

There was something different outside but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Inside there was stuff all over – so much for our clearing it out although this stuff was Jo’s tools and stuff rather than rubbish. Clearly there’d been a bit of a change of plan, the original shelving was gone, the walls were bare plaster, wires hanging loose in several places.

“Different eh?” Jo noted joining us.
“Just a bit,” I agreed, “I thought we were just getting new power points.”
“The wiring was completely shot so rather than do a bodge you’ve got all new.”
“What about the shelving?” Con asked.
“We had to take it out to do the wiring, don’t worry you’re getting new shelves.”
“So what are we painting?” I enquired – clearly not the inside just yet.
“The Fachwerk .”
“That’s what’s different,” I mentioned as we trailed back outside.

Originally the building had been pretty plain, painted render only broken by the servery, door and the guttering. But now, although it’s not structural, the walls are decorated in pseudo timber framing which already makes it look quite different. By mid morning the kiosk area was a hive of activity, Dad’s saw screaming its way through the pile of planking, Jo singing out of tune with the radio and Con and I getting nearly as much paint on ourselves as the wall decoration.

I took a bite of my very English cheese and Branston sandwich and surveyed my handiwork from my perch on the pile of planks.

“It looks really different.”
“Yeah,” Con agreed, “sort of friendlier.”

Friendlier, yeah that's it, the Fachwerk softens the appearance and makes it look less like a concrete bunker.

“Your dad’s really good at making fences,” my companion went on.

I turned my attention to where Pater was making short work of our new decorative fence. It’s far from the plain plank affair I was expecting, no, it’s a solid looking thing with a curved top and some decorative holes he’s added with a jigsaw.

“Yeah,” I confirmed proudly.
“We should be finished in a couple of hours,” Con opined.
“One of you could start inside,” Jo suggested joining us, “sockets are all done.”
“What about the shelves?”
“I'll do those once it’s all painted, I'll need to block in some of your appliances anyhow.”
“Guess I could make a start,” Con volunteered.

Oh well looks like I'll be painting the framework for the rest of the afternoon.

“That’s what’s missing,” I announced as we surveyed the day’s travails.
“What?” Dad asked as he rewound the power cable.
“Shutters.”
“Shutters?” Con queried.
“You know, on the windows.”
“Wouldn’t be difficult,” Jo allowed, “functional or just decorative?”
“Not sure,” I admitted.
“I'll speak to Tomas later.”
“Should have the fence finished tomorrow,” Dad put in.
“It’s getting very real,” Connie stated.
“Second thoughts?” Jo asked.
“Ut uh, nope it’s gonna be brill eh, Gabs?”
“Er yeah, brill,” I added.

My cleat engaged with a very audible ‘click!’, “Ready?”
“As I'll be,” Mand replied sliding her specs onto her face.
“Be careful out there,” Dad told us.
“We will,” I sighed pushing off after Mand.

No mad, ‘easy’ ride across the Eifel today, no it’s a relatively short session up towards Effelsberg then across to Liers and back down through Ahrbruck, maybe forty five K’s.

“Okay?” I enquired as Mand clicked up and down her gears.
“Yeah, just finding the right gear, it feels either too low or too high.”
“The bike’s the same as usual,” I pointed out.
“Probably,” she agreed finally settling on one sprocket. “urgh, it’s good to get out, school’s driving me loopy.”
“Know what you mean.”
“It’s alright for you, you’re done ‘til September.”
“Doesn’t mean I'm not doing stuff,” I defended, “I've been painting the kiosk all day.”
“Better than maths, chemistry and history,” she grumbled.
“Did Dad mention, we’re going to England to race in a few weeks.”
“Really?”
“Some junior stage race in Yorkshire.”
“For BC?”
“Nope, Apollinaris, we’re all going.”
Mand’s mood picked up, “Kewl, we can show the Englisher Schwein how to ride!”
“Mand!”
“What?”

Hey that’s my line.

“Sorry about the accommodation, Dave.”
“It’s alright Chris, it’s not far across on the one seventy.”
“You just need to confirm the vans registration the day before you sail,” Chris went on, “those cabins, okay?”
“We’ll work it out, the girls are used to bunking up.”
“Let me know if there’s an issue, I'm sure we can squeeze a bit more out of P&O. Oh before I forget, what we talked about yesterday, the boffins seem to think it’s plausible, a big dose of adrenaline would send her BPM up and on top of a big effort.”
“Well that's something, I'll keep an eye though. You doing the summer camp thing this year?”
“Not the same, we’ve got some new talent coming through that we’ll have for a couple of weeks and take to Italy but those already in the programme we’ll just be monitoring, we just don’t have the funds for everyone.”
“What if I could rustle something up?”
“Such as?”
“Well there’s a good programme here, we’ve got budget here we can use, they could ride for Apollinaris.”
“You’d need support.”
“Bus, mechanic – we can sort out other staff here.”
“Thanks, Dave, I'll run it past God in the morning. So how are the girls?”
“Apart from you know, in pretty good shape. They’re out training now, Amanda’s giving as good as she gets.”
“I'm looking forward to see how they tackle Ryedale.”
“Make sure you’ve got the German anthem dusted off!”
“Fighting talk! I’ll speak to Dave and I'll get back to you.”
“Nite, Chris.”

It’s a toil up the Sahrtal any day but on a humid evening after a day of painting my legs are like lead. And what with Mand up and down the gears, goodness knows what's up with her tonight.

“Keep up, Gab.”
“Yeah, yeah.”

I'll show you, de Vreen, just wait until the steep bit. It’s not long, it’s not even particularly steep but it does include a set of hairpins which I love but Mand isn’t a particular fan of. Hmm, coming up to Binzenbach, quick wet before the….bum!

You relax for two seconds and this happens, I pushed my bidon back in the holder and stood on the pedals. Mand is dancing into the first turn as if it was flat, my bike feels like I've got two flat tyres, sugar. I changed up a sprocket, the bike finally reacted to my effort and the gap to my nemesis started to close.

Each pedal stroke, each breath brought me closer but this was a different Manda, yes I was closing but at a slower rate than I'd expect. I pushed harder but we’re halfway up already and she’s still got twenty metres, I'm not gonna make it.

“Geez!” I allowed grabbing my bottle.
“Nearly had you,” Mand wheezed.
“Only nearly, next left.”

She nodded agreement to the direction change as she ingested half an energy bar. Indeed it had been close, it was like she was on nitro, I was gaining on the turns but Mand was holding me on the straights. It was only on the drag away from the last tight turn that I closed the gap, we both fought side by side up to the summit, I just edged ahead before our usual end marker.

However we weren’t done climbing, the road drags up for another couple of K through the trees before a tight set of hairpins start the plummet to Liers back in the mid Ahrtal. It’s not the best road but it’s fairly straight so neither of us held back, first me then Mand taking point. I did have a minor panic attack when we came head to head with a huge red Massey tractor, just as well that Mand was in front so she didn’t see me riding the brakes.

Then it was out onto the main road back to Altenahr, thankfully another tractor was causing a bit of a traffic jam which allowed both of us to catch our breath. The traffic was overtaking the tractor bringing us closer by the minute, my heart started to race as I contemplated pulling out to pass. Get a grip girl, you can see for miles on here, just follow Mand.

By now we were approaching Ahrbruck, we’d no doubt not get past until we’re clear of the village. I tried to relax, it’s okay, just imagine it’s a car. We trundled on into the housing.

“Easy,” Mand instructed as the tractor started to slow.

Suddenly it gunned its huge motor before lunging across the road into the road up to Lind. I breathed a sigh of relief, panic over.

Maddy Bell © 10.02.17

 
A car going the other way, well pickup actually, gave us a toot, we both waved back but it was gone before I realised it was Marty. I really should see what’s happening with him and Bern, well and the baby of course – geez she’s nearly a year old! We’d barely made the turn to Altenahr before Manda took off for the name board, what’s got into her tonight?

All the way along past the camp ground I chased her, something, well actually a rather out of place old car at the service station distracted me and that was that. We trundled over the level crossing and freewheeled round towards the bridge.

“The kiosk looks good,” Mand offered.
“Cheers,” I allowed, yeah it does look pretty good. I didn’t see it from any distance earlier and I thought it looked pukka, the whole picture from over the road is brill.
“So when do you open?”
“Week on Monday.”
“You gonna be ready?” my companion asked as we crossed the bridge.
“Should be, all the gear’s coming on Monday, we should have time to spare.”

We singled out through the Altstadt which as usual this time of year was full of Grockles and parked cars. A turn into Tunnelstraße lost the tourists if not the cars but by the park we were clear and* prepared to drop through the tunnel to start the final thrash down the valley to Bond Towers. The Express was going the other direction so we had nothing to chase – well apart from an old guy on a mofa who we caught coming into Rech much to his surprise.
 
I stared up at the moon through the rooflite, almost full and shining brightly in the clear night sky. Sleep doesn’t want to come and all I can think about is flippin’ tractors – uurgh! Am I losing my nerve? Well lost it if tonight’s anything to go by – let’s face it, if I can’t go along the road without panicking every time I cross a tractor I might as well give up.

My arm swung out, located the open bag of apricot flavour gummi bears I bought last weekend and dropped a couple into my maw. Maybe I should speak to Mum about this tractor phobia? Change the subject, yeah, good idea, hmm what should I get Drea for her birthday? Probably not sweets, a doll or something?
 
“Gaby!”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm coming.”

Of course I couldn’t sleep last night so I overslept this morning and Dad’s like ‘you know we’re picking up Connie in fifteen minutes’. As if Con’s that bothered. Whatever, now then, phone, purse, dance bag – right best go and shut him up.
 
“Will you get the fence done today, Mr B?” Con enquired as we made our way up the valley.
“I should do, it’s mostly assembly today.”
“No more screaming saw,” I suggested.
“Well not until this afternoon at least.”
“Pity,” Con opined, “it was drowning out uncle Jo’s singing.”
“Yeah, he’s not exactly Elvis is he,” I noted.
“In his dreams and heaven forbid him and Dad get going.”

I rolled my eyes, our chauffeur is just as bad.

“Oh Mum said she’ll take us to the wholesalers next Wednesday.”
“Will everything be ready by then?” Dad queried.
“We won’t collect stuff Wednesday, they’ll deliver Friday or Saturday,” Con told us.
 
“So if you make a start on the woodwork, Gaby, Con can give you a hand when she’s finished the walls,” Jo suggested.
“’Kay,” I agreed.
“Well if you two are okay I'll go give Dave a hand.”

Our head of construction headed back outside leaving me armed with a forty mil brush and a tin of white gloss.

“Best open the server, Gab,” Con’s voice suggested from the store room.
“Er yeah, good idea.”

To be honest I'd expected we’d be painting the render today but I guess that's less important than having the inside ready for Monday’s delivery of fixtures and stuff. I slid the windows open and was soon humming along to Jo’s radio as I applied paint to the woodwork.
 
“Any news on the ‘Grand Opening’,” Con enquired a couple of hours later over our early lunch.

Early because we’d finished inside and to be honest, painting was fast losing its appeal.

“Nothing concrete,” I admitted.
“It’s getting a bit close,” my partner in crime stated.
“I know, it’s sort of in hand.”
“Sort of?”
“Well Mum said she’d get someone for us.”
“Who?”
“Didn’t say,” I admitted.
“Probably Frau Holdorf.”
I nearly sprayed her with a mouthful of tomato and mozzarella, “Can you imagine, Fritzy running around yapping.”
“And peeing everywhere!”
“Ew!”
“Best tell your mum to scrub that idea,” Con chortled.
 
“You two ready to start again?” Dad prompted.
“Really?”
“This stuff won’t get done on its own,” he pointed out.
“So what’re we doing?” Con asked with more enthusiasm than I felt.
“The fence needs sanding before we treat it, nothing too special, just taking the edges off.”
“With the sander?” I suggested hopefully.
“’Fraid not, I forgot to bring it up.”
“Da-ad!” I groaned.

To be fair it isn’t too bad, the saw cuts were pretty clean and the course paper makes short work of the rough edges. It’s just, well there’s quite a lot of fence, we’ll be at it all afternoon.
 
“Gab, Connie, can you break off for a minute,” Dad requested sometime later.

Even Con was more than ready to stop, we’ve both got a layer of sawdust in places you don’t want to know and my nails are wrecked – cheers Dad.

“Wassup?”
“We need some extra hands for a couple of minutes, Con can you take over from Jo over there please.”
“Sure.”
“Gab, if you can hold this one for me.”

I took control of the post from Dad, it must be like two and a half metres high.

“What’re these for?”
“Patience,” Jo suggested as he adjusted a set of ladders mid way between me and Con.
“Ready Jo?” Dad enquired.
“Think so, I'll just get the bolts.”
“I'll fetch it round then.”
‘It’, when Dad returned, was a board as long as the uprights and about thirty centimetres wide along its curving length.
“A name board?”
“Could be.”

There was no could be to it, once in place we’d have an archway leading into our little garden and, by default to the kiosk. Dad passed one end up to Jo at the other end before carefully climbing the midpoint steps himself. I won’t bore you with the whole operation but the pair of them took about ten minutes to bolt the board to the uprights and a further ten to secure the uprights.

 
All four of us crossed the road to get a better view of ‘our’ installation endeavour.

“Kewl!” Con allowed.
“You knew and didn’t say anything,” I accused of my father.
“I asked him not to,” Con’s Dad advised joining us, “so what do you think?”

What do I think? Never in my imagination had I thought something like this would come to pass, ‘Wilkommen bei Gab’s Garten’ would greet all our customers.

“It’s pretty cool but what about Con? we’re both part of this, Con back me up.”
“It wouldn’t slip off the tongue the same with Connie on there too,” my friend observed.”
“But it makes it look like it’s just me.”
“It won’t when we get the other board up,” Dad suggested.
“Other board?”

He pointed back across the road, there, leaning against the fence was a second board with the script ‘Wilkommen bei Connie’s Kabin’ emblazoned along its length. I guess it does have a certain ring to it.

“It goes up on the edge of the roof,” Mr T advised, “so you’ll see it coming over the bridge.”
“At least we’ve got a name now,” Con noted.
“We’ll cover them up until you open, I'm looking forward to this ‘grand’ opening of yours, Gaby,” Tomas Thesing mentioned.
“Er yeah, me too,” not!
“Well let’s crack on, this stuff doesn’t finish itself,” Jo advised our party.
 
“Pizza after?” Dad suggested as I climbed out of the bus, we’re having a last cheer practice tonight before Garde, I'm gonna be well kerknackered!

We did get the fence finished – well ready to stain, the second sign was installed and the place tidied up. Dad and Tomas are coming up tomorrow to finish the fence and the hut walls so everything’ll be ready for the fridges and stuff on Monday.

“Pia?”
“Pia too,” Dad allowed, “pepperoni?”
“Chilli beef?” I suggested in turn.
“It does eat something other than sliced sausage!”
“Dad!”
“Alright, chilli beef it is, see you later.”
“Laters,” I allowed as he swung back towards the road.
 
“Fun day?” P asked a couple of minutes later when she and Mand arrived courtesy of her sister Ingrid running the taxi service up the valley.
“If you call painting and sanding fun, just look at my nails,” I offered my hands for inspection.
“Now they’re gonna need some major surgery,” Mand noted inspecting the damage.
“Later,” I agreed, “it’s nearly finished after today, well apart from the fryers and stuff.”
“I still can’t believe you and Con are gonna be running it,” Mand stated.
“Yeah, it’s a bit weird,” I agreed.
“I hope we’re invited to the opening,” P hinted.
“Maybe,” I allowed, “more pressing, pizza tonight!”
“Oh yeah!”
The three of us exchanged high fives.

“Come on you three, we haven’t got much time,” Han called from the Tanzklub’s door.
 
By the time I'd had a quick wash and changed into some more suitable clothing Hannah had the All Star Cheer warming up. I hope all our extra practice has paid off, the girls look, I dunno, leaner and certainly have more 'suplesse' than a few weeks ago.
“Right, let’s start with the floor,” I suggested.

Maddy Bell © 11.02.17

 

Mand was hopping from foot to foot to stave off the early morning chill – I told her to put some trackies on, the sun yet to descend into the valley with its warming effect.

“Give over Mand, you’re making me want the loo.”
“It’s cold!”

Anyone would be wearing just a cheer uniform at seven o’clock in the morning.

“The bus’ll be here soon.”
“I thought the forecast was like mid twenties.”
“Yeah but it has to warm up.”
“I guess,” she allowed.
“This looks like it,” I suggested when a moment later I spotted a coach coming down from Rech.

Phantasialand , location of today's jamboree, is of course not that far up the road at Bruhl – when I've been before it’s usually been on the train via Bonn. On the coach though you approach from the autobahn, we were at the coach park before I realised we were even close. Why such an early start? Well stuff starts at nine, we have to get everyone registered and ready to go and it’s nearly eight already.

“I suggest you leave anything you don’t need on the bus, it’ll be locked up if Stefan isn’t here,” Han suggested as everyone started making unloading moves.
“What about money and stuff?” Lisse queried.
“Can we come out?” Susan added.
“I think so,” Han replied, “as for money you shouldn’t need any during the competition, either Gab or myself will cover anything.”
The joys of being the coach!

It was another five minutes before our little squad joined the other attendees queuing for entry to the park. I was reminded once again of the competition in the States, this is a much bigger affair than our first competition down Koblenz way. You could almost smell the er, excitement emanating from the almost exclusively female crowd waiting their turn to be processed.

With typical Germanic efficiency the queue moved forward, I lie, we shuffled along for nearly thirty minutes before we gained entry to the park – it was much quicker when we came to the Cosplay thing. Of course our event isn’t in the bit with the rides and stuff, rather we joined the flow towards the numerous marquees covering a big lump of the open parkland where they hold all sorts of events. Well you can hardly hold a David Hasselfoff concert on a roller coaster can you?

I let Han lead the way as I got lumped with lugging the trolley with our supplies and kit – we certainly weren’t the only ones using such quaint transport – beats lugging it by hand.

“Where’re we headed?”
“Tent five, she said it was at the far end,” Hannah replied dodging a flock of what I'd guess were six year old's waving poms and squealing.
“I've never seen so much leg,” Mand stated.
“Or hair ribbons,” P added from the other side.

Our squad hadn’t yet done their hair, it’s not like an elastic and bit of ribbon take a lot of doing. Everyone was however sporting the same bright pink nail varnish, faces and lippy will get done once we find our allocated spot and base of operations. Han veered off the path and a minute later we were inside ‘tent 5’.

I've been here before of course, the whole waiting for your turn thing, it’s different to bike racing, you’ve got all the music, the gabble of hundreds of young women, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. Oh I know I'm not on the squad taking part but in some ways being the coach is worse.

“Remember, smile,” I told them when we were called forward, “no one wants to watch miserable cheers.”
I crossed my fingers as they headed out into the dance space, let’s face it there’s nothing I can do now. I felt a body move close beside me.
“They’ll do alright,” Han stated.
“Yeah,” I allowed showing her my crossed digits.

I hadn’t seen any of the competition, oh I'd heard cheering and clapping but in this game that’s not always much of an indicator. The All Star Cheer took their places, Pia signalled they were ready and a moment later the PA issued forth the introduction to Robert Palmer’s Addicted to Love and the game, so to speak, was afoot.

All the way through the routine I'd been doing my own miniature version, counting the steps, doing little hand motions, only just resisting the urge to copy the final Folly style cartwheel to splits landing. There was plenty of clapping, a bit of cheering (well from me and Han at any rate) and it was over.

“Well done, girls,” Hannah told our team as they left the arena.
“We should progress,” I advised with fingers still crossed.
“You alright, Kris?” Han enquired.
“Bit heavy on that last landing, it’s nothing.”
“I'll decide that,” my co coach told her as we headed for our waiting area.

“So?” I asked a few minutes later.
“Nothing’s broken but it’s already swelling.”
“Bum.”
“I'll be alright after a rest,” Kris insisted.

Looks like we’re scuppered if we go forward, we haven’t got any spares today for one reason or another, looks like we’ll have to scratch.

“Let’s see if we get through before making any decisions eh, coach?” Hannah hinted with a suggestion we need to talk.
“Er yeah, keep hydrated, we don’t want any cramp. Er we’ll just go see if we’re going forward.”

I joined my colleague outside in the now warm sunshine, “It’s not good is it?”
“It’s definitely sprained, I can strap it up but at best she’ll favour it, worst...”
“Thought as much,” I sighed, “guess that's it then.”
“You know the routine,” Han stated.
“Well I did write it.”
“So you do it, take Kristin’s place.”
“Hardly!” I scoffed.
“Why not, you know the routine, I know you’ve been practising with them.”
“I don’t have a uniform.”
“Who says?”
“Dur,” I motioned to my shorts and cami, “not wearing it.”
“There’s a spare in the kit bag,” she informed me.
“It’s hardly fair on Kris.”
“And pulling out isn’t fair to any of them, come on, Gab,” she urged.
“We don’t even know if we’re going forward,” I pointed out.
“You doubt that?”
“Well no,” I agreed.
“So if we’ve got through you’ll do it?”
“If.”

Fifteen minutes later I was the subject of a mass makeover effort. ‘Luckily’ Mand’s nail ministrations last night meant my nails were already in team pink, clashing oh so slightly with my locks. We did have to pack Kris’s cheer shoes out a bit, she takes a size bigger than me – not surprising as she’s ten centimetres taller too. The first round results had been posted – I say results, they haven’t given scores just a single alphabetic list of squads going through to the next round.

“We’ve got about forty minutes,” Hannah advised.
“We should so practice that dismount,” Lisse suggested.
“Don’t want another twisted ankle,” Susan stated.
“Too right,” I agreed, “I'm racing tomorrow.”
“So am I,” Mand added.
“Best get to it then, there’s space outside,” Hannah told the assemblage.

My personal philosophy of not asking the girls to do anything I wouldn’t has come to haunt me.

I took my place and like the rest of the squad gave an affirmative nod to our ‘captain’ Pia, a moment later Mr Palmer started issuing over the speakers once more.

Ho-old and one and two and step – we’re off!

I've been through the routine so many times over the last few weeks but it’s not until you’re doing it for real that the adrenalin really gets pumping. Our presentation is a mix of very traditional pom waving and more exciting gymnastics and tumbling, none of the three or four high pyramid stuff – I don’t think that's really cheering more a team gymnastics display. Mand and Lisse boosted me and I went into the forward roll from which Kris did her ankle – thump!

I flexed my knees, a safe landing. A bit more set piece pom pom waving and it was into the cartwheel / splits finale. Oh of course it’s not your two handed primary school cartwheel, oh no, this is a no hand job – well we’re holding our poms still for the final flourish. P launched herself from beside me, my turn, push and twist and slide and wave.

The crowd were quite vocal, hollering, clapping and cheering– you don’t get this at road races! I think we all felt the same, a community feeling of everyone having done their best, we waited the required ten seconds then indulged in a squad hug in. Okay, we might not win but we’ve tried our best.

“We got time to eat?” Mand asked as we retreated to our gear.
“Probably,” Han replied, “if we’ve won anything the prize ceremony isn’t till four.”
“What time is it?” I asked, my wrist devoid of my timepiece for the routine.
“Er two thirty,” Hannah advised.
“I'll go fetch it,” miss hobble along suggested.

I didn’t say did I, we’ve each got vouchers for a packed lunch – it’s either that or spend actual money with the onsite catering.

“You can hardly walk,” I pointed out, “I'll go.”

Ever tried juggling a dozen packed lunches, assorted bits of fruit and bottles of fizzy water? I managed to scrounge a carrier bag and an empty fruit box to transport our ‘free’ lunch, returning to the All Star Cheer camp as they were concluding more leaping and hugging.

“We won!” Lisse greeted me.
“Like honourable mention type win?”
“Think like first place!” Hannah beamed taking the box off me.
“Really?”
I was pulled into a bone crushing hug, “You did it, Gaby Bond.”
“The team did it,” I corrected.
“We couldn’t’ve done it without you, Gab,” P told me.
“Like double that,” Kris added.

As usual at these things we got to reprise our routine during the prize presentation, yeah, first prize under eighteen large group, Kris got to collect the stupidly large and ornate trophy. We narrowly missed out on the best in show – sounds like a dog show doesn’t it, a semi professional squad who cheer for the Kӧln Crocodiles GFL team got that.

We trundled out of the park and back to our transport still on a high, not to sound big headed but I'm used to success, being part of this though is different. It’s usually just me winning, today it’s everyone in the squad.

“Good day?” Stefan, our driver enquired from his seat.

In reply Manda and Lisse shook the trophy high in the air.

“Only first place!” Susan advised him.
“You okay if we stop to eat on the way back, you’re included,” Hannah offered.
“Think I can manage that,” he agreed with a wink, “let’s get your trolley in the locker eh?”

And so instead of heading straight back to the Ahrtal we took a diversion through Bonn and onto the old Rhein side road. Han directed our driver to stop in Oberwinter at the Klosterstube, a pleasant bistro type place I've not been to before. She must’ve rung earlier as they were expecting us, after the tension of the competition we were ready to metaphorically at least, let our hair down.

Maddy Bell © 13.02.17

 

"We did have a responsible adult with us, honest, Han did her best to control the wine and I think she only had one glass. I'm sure I only had two – and it was white, although it might have been three, we were celebrating okay?”
"You do recall you’re both racing in the morning,” Dad mentioned with some disdain.
"Yeah,” I cautiously replied.
Mand was giggling away like, well a giggling thing.
“Let them be, Dave,” Mum suggested, "I'm sure they’ll both be nice and sober for the race.”
Dad sighed in resignation, "If it’s not one thing it’s another, go on, go and sort yourselves out.”
"Yes, Daddy.”
"And, Gaby?”
"Hmm?”
"Move that thing before someone does themselves an injury.”
Oh yeah, somehow I've ended up as temporary custydid, custard – I'm looking after the trophy until Monday.
"Gis a hand, Mand.”
"Why, you lost one?”
Dad did a hand-plant with his groan, "Never mind, just, just go.”

I think I'm getting the hang of this wine drinking lark, I don’t feel half as bad as last time, might’ve been the coffee Mum shoved down my neck but whatever my head’s not doing the room orbit thing this morning.

"Breakfast’s on the table,” Mum called up to my cave.
Guess it’s time to make an appearance.

"Where’re we racing again?” I enquired slopping OJ into a glass.
"Rattingen, just up the road from the Grönberg’s.”
"Right.”
"I'm dropping you off with Angela then me and your mum are going to some place in Wuppertal to look at campers.”
"Not fair,” I pouted.
"There’s cash prizes.”

I like cash prizes, I never really see any of the winnings from the big races – they get paid directly into the bank. Oh there’s the ‘goods’, usually tosh like water bottles and energy drink, or the dreaded vouchers for some bike shop you’ve never heard of let alone visited. There’s quite a trade after some races, if you’re lucky you get seventy five cents on the euro but it’s been less than that sometimes.

Oh yeah, camper, the insurance have agreed a sum for our squidged car, quite generous according to Dad. It’ll be pretty cool if we do get a camper, the old one was dead useful at races and we’d often have weekends away. It does have drawbacks, they’re not great as taxis and they take up a lot of space on the drive.

"Are you listening?” Mum prompted.
"Um?”
"I said, ‘Tom’s agreed to do your opening thing next week’.”
"Tom?”
"She was in cloud cuckoo land again,” Mand opined.
"Was not.”
"Tom Boonen?” Mum prompted.
"As in Weltmeister Tom Boonen?”
"The same, he’s home visiting his folks before the Tour build up.”
"Do you reckon I can get an autograph?”
"It’ll be him asking you,” Mum suggested.
"You can discuss all this in the bus, eat up or we’ll be late,” Dad prompted.

What’s gotten in to him?

Despite the conversation last night, it’s not a properly early start today, we departed Villa Bond just turned nine and Dad had the easy up er up in the car park by eleven.

"Thanks for this, Angela.”
"No trouble, Dave, I'd be here anyway.”
"We’ll try not to be too late,” Mum offered.
"Don’t worry about us.”
"Get one of those big Hymer ’s,” I suggested.

The Rents departed and thoughts turned to the job in hand – i.e. taking the organisers for as much dosh as possible.

Rattingen is a bit of a weird place, a typical small country town but with some big industrial plant, convenient as it has good links to the autobahns, Düssel airport, Rhein and sits midway between Düsseldorf and Duisburg. The old centre is partly pedestrianised and today's racing is on a tight circuit around the church. I say tight, it’s under a kilometre and includes a dead turn at the top of the pedestrianised area.

"This is gonna be hard work,” Mand suggested as we walked around the circuit after registering.
"Fast,” Ron suggested.
My own thoughts. "Anyway, I thought you’d got new super powers?”
"Hardly,” Mand snorted.
"So what’s with this English race?” Ron enquired.
"Ryedale?”
"I don’t know, Mum just said we’re going to England.”
"All I know is its in Yorkshire.”
"Where you went before Weihnachts?”
"Yeah,” Mand put in, "From what I've heard it’s gonna be as hard as Switzerland.”
"That’ll be the famous Yorkshire Alps,” I noted.
"Just saying what your mum told me.”
"How comes she told you?”
"You were painting your cafe.”
"Kiosk.”
"Whatever, she said there’re some hard climbs, especially on the last day.”
"Best dust off my climbing legs then,” Ron mentioned.
"Tom Boonen’s gonna open the kiosk,” I blurted.
"Get off!”
"No, straight up, Mum’s sorted it.”

Of course it’s not just bike racing here today, it’s all part of some local Kirmes thing, so there’s a variety of foot races, kiddies rides and stuff. It’s mostly a local community thing but the cash prizes are quite a pull so we were joined today by competitors from as far away as Dortmund and Aachen. However the Jungere events haven’t attracted too many riders – well it’s a fairly small pool to start with.

"Dang!”
"Hi guys,” I greeted.
"Thought we might have a chance today,” Barbie sighed.
"And who says you still haven’t?” Ron proposed.
"Well duh,” Fran indicated the three of us.
"Which event are you in?” I queried.
"Jungere of course,” Barb supplied.
"Well it’s a good job me an’ Ron are riding the women and vets event then.”
"You’ll only have me to worry about,” Mand grinned.

Have to say, my money’s on de Vreen in that face off but there’s more than one prize.

"For real?” Fran asked.
"Straight up,” I agreed, "Dad thought we needed some different competition.”
"But your licences, surely they are only for Jungere?” Fran queried.
"The benefits or not of being sort of famous, Dad rang the organisers.”
"Some of those old men are pretty handy,” Barbie noted.
"Yeah,” I agreed, "I think that’s the point.”

The cycling wasn’t in a block, foot races punctuate the programme which helps keep the audience around and with such a short circuit the barriers were lined with a good natured crowd.

"Go on, Mand!”

They’d announced a spot prize next lap and the girl from Croydon was on a flyer to claim it. She wasn’t having it easy, several of the lads were in hot pursuit but Mand has been consistently quickest through the hairpin each lap, she’d claim the prime if she came out ahead again. We all craned up the course to watch her progress, the lads caught her but she was on the front back down towards us.

"Yay!” I bounced up and down on Mand’s behalf as she claimed the forty euros.

"It’s a bit greasy on the bottom corner,” Mand advised towelling herself off a few minutes later having claimed the girls’ race and two primes.
"Right,” I acknowledged.
"That might be the least of the problems,” Ron put in, "It’s an egg race before us.”
"Hope they’re hard boiled,” egg on the course would not be good.
"Here,” Angela dangled a couple of fresh bidons between us.
"It’s only a crit,” Ron told her mother.
"On a warm afternoon for best part of an hour, you both got food?”

Geez, she’s turned into Dad!

I fished into the leg of my skinsuit for the gels secreted there. Yep, Mum’s suggestion, our skinsuits will be cooler than bibs and a jersey out there. Plus they look kinda cool even if everyone can see what you’re wearing, or not, underneath!

I looked along the line of starters, we weren’t the only laydeez riding but it’s not them that will provide the real competition. No, that’ll be the men who are making up most of the field, just because they are classed as ‘veteran’ doesn’t mean they are past it. Far from it, they’ve often been racing for decades, know all the tricks and can be more competitive than the younger, senior riders.

"What do you reckon?” Ron quietly queried in my ear.
"Not sure, stay out of trouble?”
"One of your long uns might work.”
"Maybe,” I agreed, "Best see what they’re made of first.

Long un – yeah that's gonna happen. They didn’t quite go from the gun but by the time we started lap two the field was in a long string and just staying in place was an effort. There were no team tactics, it’s every man, woman and Jungere for themselves here this afternoon.

We’d been tearing around Rattingen for fifteen minutes before the pace dropped a little and a reduced peloton changed from worm to bunch. I found a gel and took the opportunity to get an energy hit, who knows when or even if there’ll be another chance. I checked for Ron, yeah she was still with us but of the other women there was no sign.

It was but a brief and very temporary break in hostilities, next time round a prime was posted for two laps hence. What the heck, why not? The speed almost immediately increased but with perhaps a little less enthusiasm than before so whilst we strung out again the pace wasn’t so high.

I'd got myself into fifth wheel, still sheltered but hopefully clear of any trouble, I knew where to make my move and waited for those in front to ease up. I slipped inside and held off hitting the stop bars until the last moment, there were some angry voices but with a quick flick of the bars I was round the hairpin and engaging Bond Drive! My gearing might be restricted but my cadence isn’t and being so er small with cranks to match I can pedal through corners other less altitude lacking riders have to freewheel for.

The bell sounded for the prize next time through and I allowed a bit of a smile, this one’s mine. It nearly wasn’t, I almost wiped out on the greasy corner, I heard the crowd take a collective inhalation but a deft cyclocross steering move kept me upright. With a clear circuit ahead of me I raced along the barriers and with no one in the way made a neater, safer turn at the hairpin.

I reckon the gap was all of twenty metres but I'm not going for the race, just this lap. Moments later, with the prize pot banked, I sat up to wait for the rest of the field – I won’t get away the same again, I said I, but maybe Ron can?

"How much?” I queried approaching the support team.
"Fifty,” Angela advised as I slipped by.

Well it’s a start.

Maddy Bell © 14.02.17

 
The rest of the field quickly swept me up and having used that move once it’s unlikely I'll get away with it a second time. I'll give them their due, they weren’t afraid to bring the racing to me, the speed was back up to the blistering early pace and opportunities to escape anywhere except backwards were nil. Hmm, backwards, they won’t expect that.

Another prime was posted, well let’s see if they’re paying attention. Instead of looking for a way forward I eased myself out of the main pack to put me trailing the leaders by twenty metres, about half a bike behind them. I got to choose my line through the hairpin and as we streamed back towards the line the bell sounded.

Those in front relaxed almost visibly, oh we were still riding quickly but they’ve seen off the usurper – not! The speed dropped almost imperceptibly as the old guys started to finesse a bit, steady Gabs. It’s almost like they’ve forgotten about me, if they’d just kept the speed high I'd have no chance here.

Having that bit of space to pick my own wider line at the hairpin was the clincher, allowing me to carry more speed out of the turn. Klunk, klunk – Bond Boost! Okay that's a bit silly but I held the right hand barriers as I accelerated which kept me out of immediate sight as my fellow racers prepared their own sprints. They finally spotted me as we hit the ninety degree last turn as I slipped through just ahead of the leaders.

They hadn’t got enough road or legs left to get me ahead of the line, I almost freewheeled across the line to claim my second sprint, a result that got a big cheer from the crowd.

"That was a hundred!” Mand almost screamed as I passed them again.

Kewl! I'm not gonna get away with it again though, if I want to win this afternoon I can either take my chances in a sprint or go for the ‘long one’ Ron suggested and I need to decide quickly. I slipped back into the bunch, well I need to get my breath back again!

"Nice move,” Ron allowed, she’s been happily sitting in, with the other women tailed off the two of us are shoe ins for the ladies’ prizes.
"Thanks,” I huffed.
"Contesting?” she posed.
Stupid question really, "Long next time.”

She nodded, I'd have at least a bit of help to escape. I freed my second gel, they’re like eating bogeys except more nutritional – not that I eat bogeys of course, urgh!

Of course they were watching me like a hawk now, I've taken them for both primes after all. Which allowed Ron a bit of leeway to move up in the group transferring some of that attention to herself as we approached the hairpin. She took a more traditional approach to trying an escape move, going for the sprint out of the corner in clear view of the competition.

There was a reaction, maybe my moves were a distraction? This lot might’ve been around the block but sometimes it’s the simple stuff that you need to watch out for. Ron never got more than a couple of metres of clear air before the train joined her, I slipped into seventh wheel almost by default.

She kept the pressure on well into the next climb up towards the hairpin, sitting up and sliding to the side. Clearly no one else wanted to take over as the elevated pace dropped quickly allowing me to make my move. Ron had distracted them and now I meant to capitalise on their smugness at closing her down.

As they looked at each other I took my chance.

"Go on, Gabs!”
"Thirty!” Angela shouted as I zipped past half a lap later.

By my reckoning it’s about ten laps to go, doable but I daren’t relax. I am the current, if joint, junior time trial world champeen, so a long solo effort doesn’t scare me. Of course I’m not on a TT bike but on a course like this that wouldn’t be any advantage, I settled down into my aero tuck and concentrated on my line.

It’s all or nothing now, if they manage to organise a proper chase it’s quite possible for me to be caught, if that happens its game over, Gaby.

The art of time trialling comes down to concentration, getting into the zone – when you start looking at the scenery, thinking about dinner and so on, you’ve lost. So it was with singular mind I blocked everything from my mind except the roadway ahead and turning the pedals. The fastest route isn’t always the shortest, it’s more important to keep smooth and so I started a demonstration of testing on the streets of Ratingen.

A couple of laps later the bell rang – surely it’s not the finish yet? But that was definitely the bell. I continued ploughing my lonely furrow, less than a lap to go! I checked behind, I'm clear, a good hundred metres. I eased off a bit and sat up as I approached the line, thrusting a fist skyward.

"Keep going, stupid!” Mand screamed.
"Why?”
"That was only a prime,” Angela yelled, "Seven more laps.”

Sugar! I've fallen into one of the most stupid errors you can make, mistaking the finish. All that effort and now I'm giving everything away to the chasers. No I'm not, not without a fight.

A look behind revealed the error had cost me half my lead but this could yet work to my advantage. I started to wind things up again and resumed my tuck, riding close to the barriers to disguise my presence from the chasers. It was a slow return to speed on the climb but once through the hairpin things picked up so I was at full speed by the time I recrossed the line.

Six – I started a countdown in my head, okay so I'm not a hundred percent in the zone but I'm not being done out of this now. I grabbed my bottle and after a long glug chucked it into the base of the railings along from my supporters, oh I know it makes little difference but it gets rid of temptation. Here goes nothing.

"And here she comes,” the MC excitedly announced, "A dominant display this afternoon from the reigning Jungere champion, our winner, Gaby Bond of Team Apollinaris!”

It definitely was the finish this time, my lead never exceeded three hundred metres, dropping some over the last couple of laps as the chasers made a last assault on the line. Once again I looked behind, I've time to make a show. Sitting up I did the classic double arm victory salute as the crowd cheered and clapped.

Pulling to the side I had time to stop and watch the sprint for second place – I don’t suppose I'll be flavour of the day. Ron was in the mix but these old guys are nothing if not tenacious, I wouldn’t want to be the judge separating that tangle.

"I thought you’d lost it when you sat up,” Mand stated as we gathered our stuff after the brief prize presentation – they still have more foot races and the senior men's event to run off this afternoon.

"Er yeah,” I agreed.
"So how much then?” Ron enquired as she checked her own envelope – as I'd won overall they gave her first woman on a one rider one prize basis.
"Three twenty five?” I allowed.
"Eis is on you then,” Angela chuckled.
"I'm not fetching.”
"Let’s get packed up first,” Angela suggested.

"Everything okay?”
"They’ll be about an hour,” Angela advised closing her phone, one of those new Motorola Razr things.
"What do we do for an hour?” Mand asked.
"Eat?” I proposed.
"What about our gear,” Ron queried.
"Finish packing up,” Angela told us, "I won’t be a minute.”

"Well worth a pack of water,” I pronounced.
"For once our sponsor comes in handy,” Ron agreed adding more Frites to her fork.

Angela had negotiated kit protection with a group of cycling widows picnicking in the parking area – the eight pack of Apollinaris water acting as payment in kind. That allowed us to return to the centre where we currently were tucking into Jaeger-schnitzel and Pommes at a table outside of a place with the fancy name of Schlüssel am Markt zu Den Drei Königen .

"So what’re you spending your winnings on?” Mand enquired around a mouthful of bean salad.
"Apart from your lunch?”
"You’ll get it back,” Ron observed.
"Dunno, there’s a bag I've seen in Bonn.”
"Seriously, Gab,” Mand sighed.
"I dunno do I, be handy spending money for England and I need to get a present for Andrea, can you believe she’s nearly one?”
"The time goes quickly with babies, they grow so fast,” Angela noted.
"I guess.”
"So this is where you’re hiding!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin, “Mum!”
"The same,” she agreed pulling a chair up to our table.
"But you were gonna be ages, where’s Dad?”
"Loading the bus,” she advised stealing a chip from my plate.

Back at Mettmann Angela supplied more food – coffee and her take on a Schwarzwaldkirschtorte – yum-my! By the time the adults had talked, us girls had showered and we’d polished off the cake it was knocking on seven o’clock. I'll sleep tonight.

I stretched and let out a mighty yawn, "So you buy one?”
"One what?” Mum queried.
"Duh, camper van, that is what you went to look at.”
"Oh that, do you have any idea how much they cost?”
"A lot?”
"You could say that.”
"So did you?”
"Nope.”
"Oh,” I allowed somewhat disappointed,” so we’re not getting a camper then?”
"We didn’t say that,” Dad offered from the driver’s seat as we took the slip road onto the Bonn motorway.
"But I thought you just said...”
Mum cut me off, "I said we didn’t buy one.”
"So what, how?”
"The how is why we were so long,” Dad advised, "We’ve agreed a mutually agreeable ‘sponsorship’ deal, in short we get a motorhome to use, they get their name put about.”
"What is it then, some poxy VW bus?”
"Nope,” Mum replied, "Think a bit bigger.”
"Like our old LT ? We had one before we came to Germany, it was brill.” I explained to Mand.
"But unreliable,” Dad pointed out.
"Iveco?” in my mind I started to go through the campers I've seen recently on our travels.
"Ut, uh,” Mum denied.
"You mentioned it earlier,” Dad stated.

What did I say?

“Hymo or something like that,” Mand supplied.
“Hymer? we’re getting a Hymer?”
"We are,” Dad agreed.
"It’s not new,” Mum noted, "But it’s only a year or so old.”
"Kewl, so how come we get it?”
"It’s a demonstrator, was I should say, they can’t sell it as new and they’d take a big hit to sell it as used.” Dad explained, "This way it’s effectively off their books but they still own it so they don’t lose on it.”
"Sounds complicated.”
"Complicated or not, we get a camper to use,” Mum pointed out.

Maddy Bell © 15.02.17

 

I know Mand and I had Schnitzel earlier and we had cake at Ron’s but by the time we reached the Ahrtal my stomach was rumbling.

"What’re we having for dinner?”
"You can’t be hungry again,” Mand opined.

There was an exchange of looks between the parental units, a shrug and an application of brakes.

"The Mill,” Dad suggested as we dropped around the Roman villa , under the bypass and round past my old school.
Well it’s better than me cooking at home, "Suits me.”

"Your dad says all the equipment arrives tomorrow,” Mum prompted.

Der Mühle was particularly busy this evening, a couple of other family groups with a few locals propping up the bar.

"Er yeah,” I agreed as I decided on my food, Eva does a good Roulade which will fill a hole nicely. "It’s s’posed to arrive about ten so it can all be plumbed and wired and stuff.”
"Best practice your sausage grilling, Tom’s apparently quite a connoisseur.”
"Are you gonna be here?”
"We should be back, we’re only over at Leipzig.”
"So you’re here all week?” Mand queried.
"I think we’re going Friday,” Mum suggested, "You fancying another ride with the seniors?”
"It was kinda kewl,” de Vreen allowed.
"Gab?”
"I think Steff’s organised something Tuesday.”
"Well let me know tomorrow.”
"Er yeah,” I agreed.
"So what’s it to be guys?” Chris enquired.

Therese was in charge this morning, Tomas had bakery type things to attend to.

"Who painted the fence?” Con asked as her mum swung into Seilbahn to park.
I shrugged, "Dunno.”
"Didn’t your dad tell you, Gaby, he came up with the von Strechau lad on Saturday.”
“Max!”

Con stifled a chuckle.

"Is Uncle Jo coming?” Con enquired as we had yet another cleaning session.
"He’ll be up later,” Therese advised.
"Hello?” a voice enquired from the door.
"Herr Haaner,” Therese greeted our visitor.
“Marius please, Frau Thesing, so, it’s looking very smart.”

You’ll remember Herr Haaner from the shopfitters of course.

"Largely down to the girls,” Frau T suggested, bit of a porky but I'm not gonna contradict the boss. "We weren’t expecting to see you today.”
"I try to show my face if I can, gets me out of the showroom for a couple of hours, the lads should be here in a few minutes.”

Right on cue the sounds of a truck pulling up outside announced our delivery.

I guess shifting fridges and stuff is everyday stuff when you work for shopfitters, the ‘lads’ made short work of the unloading for which they were rewarded with coffee. Therese went over the delivery with Marius and signed it off, by twelve we were on our own again.

"I didn’t think there was this much,” I stated picking my way through a veritable mountain of boxes still piled outside, "Where’s it all gonna go?”
"Well it won’t be in boxes for starters,” Frau T observed, “once my brother’s got the shelving up it’ll just disappear.”
"So what do we do now?” Con asked her mum.
"You could make a start on washing the crockery.”
"Why’s it need washing, it’s all new?”
"You need to ask, Connie Thesing?”
"Can’t we just put it through the dishwasher?” I suggested.
"Which needs plumbing in,” Therese stated, "No it all needs unpacking and checking anyhow so we might as well do a first wash whilst we’re at it.”

"Urgh,” I eased my load of plates into the sink, "That’s the last.”
"You sure you haven’t missed a box,” Con, up to the elbows in suds, noted sarcastically.
"It was free choice,” I pointed out, not my fault she lost the coin toss.

Jo arrived half way through the exercise and Therese had been co-opted as his assistant. There was a lot of laughing coming from the stock room between power tool use and the occasional bit of cursing. The Metzinger siblings certainly seem to get on well.

"Right, ladies,” Jo addressed us, "If you want to get some lunch I'll start in here, at least get your shelves up.”
We didn’t need a second invite.

“P said you won on Saturday,” Con mentioned.
"Yeah, bit of a surprise really I didn’t think we’d even podium.”
Con chuckled.
"What?”
"You, everything you do gets converted into bike speak.”
"Doesn’t.”
"It so does, Gaby Bond, no one else talks like that, ‘didn’t think we’d podium’.
"I don’t talk like that.”
"You do!” she insisted, "You want more Kartoffel salat?”

Mrs T had packed us up with salad, frikadel and Brötchen, enough to be filling but not too filling.

I took the offered container of food, "Thanks.”
"Good job we had the plates, eh?”

Good job indeed or we’d have been eating out of the bowl.

"How’d you get on yesterday? You were up the Rhein somewhere, yeah?”
"Far side of Düsseldorf, not too bad.”
"You won then,” she stated.

I guess she’s known me long enough to pick up the vibes.

"Eventually,” I allowed warming to my subject.

"You two doing anything this afternoon?” Therese called from the servery.
"Coming.”

Well we’d finished eating a bit back, we’d been talking about the proposed ‘road trip’ for the last fifteen minutes.

"Wow!” I allowed on re-entering the kiosk, "How’d you do it so quick?”
"You like?” Jo asked back.
"It’s brill, Unc!” Con gave him a hug.
"There’s still some stuff to finish off,” he told us, "Bit of plumbing for the coffee machine and washer tomorrow and a bit of panelling around after.”

I'm guessing he’d pre-fabricated everything, a few screws and the shelves, fascias etc. were installed in double quick time.

"Right girls, let’s get everything put away,” Therese prompted, "Thanks, Jo, you coming to eat tonight?”
"Six?”
"Fine, we’ll see you later.”

With somewhere to actually put the crockery and so on we re-emptied boxes, stacked and sorted, unwrapped and examined. Therese was right, the pile of boxes became instead a much smaller stack of cardboard by the door, the cupboards and shelves easily swallowing everything. Of course there’s still the actual supplies to come but as a lot will be in the fridge and freezer that's not gonna be a problem – they coped before after all.

"Ready?” Frau Thesing enquired.

I double checked the lock and set the newly installed alarm.

"Yep.”

The alarm beeped to confirm it was set and I offered her the keys.

"Nope, it’s not my place, those are your set, Gaby, Jo has a set which will be Connie’s and there’s a spare set at the bakery.”

I looked at the keys in my hand, this is real; it’s really happening. I've got keys to the kiosk, my responsibility.

"Um. Thanks, I think.”
"We trust you, Gaby,” she stated, "You didn’t think we’d be coming up here to open up and lock up every day did you?”

To be honest I hadn’t really thought about it at all, we’re really gonna be running this place on our own aren’t we?

"You guys ready?” Con asked returning from the recycling across on the bahnhof ‘forecourt’.

"That’s never gonna stay in there,” Mand opined.

The oversize trophy’s journey up to the Tanzklub looks like being quite precarious balanced badly in the Schauff’s basket.

"Well what do you suggest,” I asked pointedly.
"Dunno,” she admitted, "Get a lift up?”
"Dur, the olds are going to the Pinger’s tonight.”
"Get Han to pick it up?”

Well it would be better than trying to balance it on the bike.

"Worth a call.”

"You alright there, Gab?” Hannah enquired as we pootled up the valley.
"Er sure,” I allowed from the tiny hole I was wedged in.

My co-coaches tiny Volkswagen Fox was otherwise stuffed with bags of uniforms, towels, a huge trophy, Mand and Han.

"You should’ve left it with me on Saturday.”
"Yeah,” I agreed – I couldn’t tell you how it ended up under my arm.
"We’ll have to get a bigger trophy cabinet,” she joked.
"You should see Gab’s collection at home,” Mand suggested.
"They’re not all mine.”
"Just most of them.”

Even in the Fox the journey was but a few minutes however I had to wait for the car to be partly unloaded before I could escape its confines.

"We’ll probably get some new recruits you know, when the Ahr Zeitung comes out,” Han advised as we perched on the edge of the stage watching the girls warm down.
"We will?”
"Happens all the time – even with the Garde, we do a show or win something and they’ll turn up wanting to join.”
"Well we could do with some extra bods, we’d’ve been up poo river if I'd not been there Saturday.”
"And Amanda,” Han added.
"Yeah, so we should recruit them? They’re gonna take a while to train up.”
"Well my bet is there’ll be a few from Garde, I can think of about three who will likely ask, who knows what else we’ll get.”

You’d think things would calm down a bit wouldn’t you.

“Oh, I nearly forgot, we’ve been volunteered for a display at the family day up in Adenau.”

Maddy Bell © 17.02.17

 

Mand might be going with Mum and co on their ‘dinner’ ride while I hang with the girls but it certainly doesn’t get me out of training. Far from it, Dad’s set me a quite strenuous ride in advance of Saturday’s competitive outing.

"I'm off,” I called out from the cellar steps.
"You got your keys,” Dad asked appearing at the kitchen doorway, "We might have already left when you get back.”
I fished in my pockets, “Keys, money, Handy,” I announced presenting my pocket contents.
"Remember, steady does it, Saturday’s going to be more about endurance than speed.”
"Yes Dad,” I sighed, "Can I go now?”
"On with you then.”
"Tschuss!”
"Tschuss.”

It’s been ages since I've trained on my own, proper training that is, not on the turbo in the garage. Since Mand arrived it’s pretty much always the pair of us together – if anything it’s Mand that's done the solo training. So used to riding with her am I that I caught myself talking to ‘her’ as I made my way up the valley!

Talk about feeling a right Charlie. What did I do before she came? I had to wrack my brain to remember, talk to myself I guess, oh yeah, I often ended up humming or singing an ear worm - ‘Mac’s Chain, Bicycle Race, Bo Rap or whatever was on the radio before I set off. Unfortunately today it’s some German Goth Rock thing that's caught, all growling and angry.

Instead of my usual ride up through Adenau to the ring I turned at Ahrbruck and started the long climb through Kesseling and up to Kaltenborn. Coming down it’s a blast but going up, well there’s no rest for over a dozen kilometres, I was grateful to stop for a few seconds at the top for a go at my bidon. Not that stopping was without its own hazards, the warm morning and thirty plus minutes of climbing had me ‘glowing’, the flies were on me in seconds!

At the main Nurburg road I turned away from the circuit and headed towards Kempenich and the A61 motorway. After the long climb the wide, smooth road was welcome relief and turned up the juice a bit. Just under an hour later I was dropping down to Maria Laach after coming over Glees but rather than go up past the Abbey or drop into the Brohltal I took the quieter road around the north of the cone that leads eventually down to Andernach.

In the town I looped around to the waterfront and made my way to the Strandkörbe Andernach, an open air cafe next to the KD jetty. Hey, I've been at it for best part of three hours and it’s at least another two back to Dernau, I need some lunch! I found a riverside table and gratefully sank onto a seat before pulling my mitts off and releasing my bonce from its polystyrene casing.

"Abend, food?” the waitress queried arriving armed with the Speisekarte.
"Please.”
"Drink?”
"Large Sprite® please, er what’s the soup?” I asked after quickly scanning the brief selection.
“Knödel mit Huhn ,” she advised.
"That’ll do.”
"Bread?”
"Please.”

She departed with my order and I made myself more comfortable. It’s not the prettiest bit of river, there’s riverside industry opposite and get the wind the wrong way quite a lot of noise. That said you can still sit and watch the river traffic plugging up from Bonn or zipping seaward from Koblenz and beyond.

My drink was barely on the table before my Handy started a jig in my pocket.

"Bond.”
"Finally,” Nena sighed, "Where are you?”
"Andernach, just getting some lunch.”
"What’re you doing there?”
"Training? what’s up?”
"You do remember this afternoon?”
"Course, swimming at Remagen, we’re getting meeting at Con’s for the one o’clock Express,” it is after all my excuse for not going with the seniors later.
"And the time now?” she prompted.
I looked at my watch, ten past one, "Sugar.”
"We thought something had happened,” Nen told me.
"Something did, Dad sending me out on a long ride, didn’t you ring the house?”
"No reply,” she paused, I could hear the others in the background, "Yeah okay, look we’re gonna get the next Zug, what time will you be back?”
"Three?” I suggested, "I've just ordered lunch.”
"Bum, look we’ll see you at the pool.”
“’Kay, might be near four,” I warned.
"We’ll still be there.”
"Laters.”

Damn!

The soup deserved better than me necking it like I did, I'd intended taking my time before starting for home but I was clicking into my pedals before one thirty. At least the run down the Rhein is essentially flat even if my recent feed prevented an all out effort. Rather than humming to myself I was now running calculations and time tables through the grey matter.

Get home at three, change, yeah I'll get to the pool about four. I was coming up to Sinzig before I realised there was an alternative, it’d be close but if I stay on the main road, doable. Ten minutes later I bunny hopped the kerb and slewed my way down the new ramp before sprinting to Gleis Vier.

I nearly landed on my rump as I dismounted, having survived that I sprinted up the steps to the platform.

"Wait!”
"Come on then, girl,” Myleen chivvied.
"Thanks,” I puffed stepping on board the Express.

The whistle sounded, the doors closed and we were on our way.

"Your friends just came down.”
"Yeah,” I allowed retrieving my pass, “going swimming, meeting there.”
"Slow down, you’ll do yourself damage, rushing about so.”

Myleen went off to check tickets so I parked my bike and squatted on one of the pull down seats, no point in not using the facilities.

Catching the up train didn’t gain that much, maybe ten minutes but that meant I rejoined Myleen for the trip back to Remagen rather than catching the following journey. In turn that meant I got to the Freizeitbad just before three thirty. Once inside it didn’t take long to locate the others.

"We weren’t expecting you for ages yet,” Steff advised.
"I used my super powers,” I allowed sagging onto the grass.

Con passed me a bottle of eau, Apollinaris of course.

"Thanks,” I told her unscrewing the lid, "So what’ve I missed?”
"Con was just telling us about ‘Con’s Kiosk’,” Bridg stated.
"Don’t forget ‘Gaby’s Garten’,” I put in.
"So who is this bloke who’s doing the opening?” Nen requested.
"Tom Boonen? Only like one of the top road racers.”
"Might’ve guessed you’d get someone to do with bikes,” Steff noted.
"Well Mum’s sorted it out, so are you guys coming?”
"If we get invited,” P mentioned.
"Of course you’re invited.”

How could they think they weren’t?

The rest of the afternoon was taken with topping up tans, catching up and just, well, reconnecting. Obviously you know what me and Con have been doing, P’s been doing stuff at the Stube of course but the others. Well Steff’s been helping out at the Kindergarten, Bridg has scored a few hours a day as a chambermaid at the Hotel Lochmühle in Laach and Nen’s been running the kids club activities at the Campingplatz Burgweise just up the road from her place.

There’re no free rides around here, if you want stuff you have to have some income. don’t get me wrong, not everyone our age has a job but they’re the poorer for it, as Dad pointed out a while back, it looks good on your CV, you get experience, maybe training and a few euros in your purse. I guess it’s not for everyone.

So anyhow, we did pool type stuff until nearly half to six, no surprise arrivals of ‘boy friends’ this time, ut uh, this is a girls’ only affair.

"What time we booked for?” Pia asked our organiser.
"Six thirty,” Steff advised, "Plenty of time.”

Well you didn’t think we were just going to the pool did you? We haven’t seen everyone together for several days at least! No, we’re going for food once we’ve changed, Steff’s booked us in at da Franco, an Italian restaurant on the Rheinpromenade. When I say Italian, it’s more a restaurant with Italian food on the menu than one of the theme park places popular in the cities.

"You get hold of Anna?” Con enquired emerging from the ladies in her favourite summer frock.
"Nah,” Steff sighed, "I left a message with her mum, she knows where and when.”

I miss Anna, I don’t think I've seen her since Weihnachts.

"Your turn, Gabs,” Brid suggested rejoining the rest of us.
"Cheers,” I headed into our makeshift changing room.

"That’s no fair, no one mentioned heels,” P complained as I returned to the others.
"She is a midget,” Con stated.
"I am here,” I mentioned. Okay, maybe the heels are a bit much.
"We all ready?” our organiser queried.
"I'm ready and hungry,” I allowed slinging my beach bag onto my shoulder.

I think we made quite a sight as we walked along Alte Straße into the town, a gaggle of girls dressed, if not to the nines, at least to the eights! If I'd been on my own I might’ve been a bit uncomfortable but safety in numbers and all that. Yeah, too short dresses, a good supply of face paint and a bunch of friends – girls out for a good evening.

The lane down to the water from Marktplatz is quite steep, I descended with a vice like grip on Con’s arm, up a few steps and we were at our destination. The Maître d offered us a choice of inside or out, the place wasn’t yet busy but I'm guessing there’ll be some of the hotel patrons along in a while. We elected to sit out, it might get cool later but for now it’s plenty warm enough and eating al fresco is kinda neat.

"We getting wine?” I whispered to Steff.
"Dunno,” she whispered back, “girls?” she pointed to the candleholder, as is traditional, a wine bottle.

I know we’re all legal, and dressed up we all, even short house here easily pass as eighteen but it still feels a bit naughty. Definitely one up on dinner with Apollinaris, I wouldn’t be getting wine with them that's for sure.

"Well duh, that's all I've come for,” Brid advised – I could even believe that.
"Settled then,” P stated.
The waiter returned with the menus, "Drinks, ladies?”
Pia took charge, "Two bottles of Prosecco and a jug of water please.”

He didn’t even blink at the order, returning in short order with the booze and a vase of breadsticks. Hmm nibbles and alcohol – best go easy on that or I’ll get it in the ear-hole.

I was still absently munching on a breadstick trying to decide between lasagne and salmon tagliatelle when I sensed a presence by my elbow.

"Room for one more, guys?”
"Anna!” I almost leapt from my seat to hug her.
"Someone’s pleased to see you,” Con mentioned waiting her own turn to greet our club’s senior member.

Another chair, an additional glass and we soon resettled.

"A toast,” Anna proposed standing up, "To us!”
"The Angels,” we all chimed raising our glasses.

Maddy Bell © 17.02.17

 
"You should’ve seen his face,” Anna concluded her tale. The problem of course is that the rest of us don’t know the people involved so whilst we all made polite noises it didn’t amount to the reaction it might’ve merited.

Is this how its going to be? Oh I'm sure we’ll remain friends but we’ll share less of our lives and experiences as a group. Its a bit sad to think that we won’t ever return to those days when we met at the bakery in the morning and interacted as a group sometimes into the evening, five days a week and sometimes the weekend too.

Already we are doing different stuff, instead of being one whole we’re more like one of those circle things we did in maths – Venn diagram, that's it, the interconnecting spheres. We used to all be in one ring with little individual satellites, now its a much more complicated universe, some of us share more than others whether that's the Tanzklub with Pia or the kiosk with Connie. I suppose its inevitable, I'm possibly less affected by it as I've already had a similar experience when I moved here from England – that seems like a lifetime ago.

But less maudlin, we ate, drank (I only had two glasses of wine before changing to lemonade) and talked – where did the time go?

"We catching the Express?” Con queried.
"How else do we get home?” Nen asked in turn.
"We could get the bus,” Anna suggested.
"Really?” Steff and I chorused.
"Didn’t know there was one,” I continued.
"There’s only one journey, I sometimes get it if I'm late coming home,” Anna advised.
"What time?” Bridg enquired.
"Ten fifteen.”
"Well that’d be better than hanging around for the last Express,” P noted.

Oh we could just about get the next Express but we’d have to pretty much run and we haven’t sorted the bill yet. No, the extra twenty minutes or so the ‘Nachtbus’ will give us solves that and will save hanging around best part of an hour. Goodness knows what time we’ll actually get home.

To be honest I rarely use buses these days, trains yes but for me the few services in the Ahrtal are of very limited use. We finished up at da Franco then took a steady walk up into the town and along Marktplatz to the railway station, ironically the departure point for the bus. Well I guess it sort of makes sense, it is sort of running as a rail replacement after all.

And there it was, the 841 to Kreuzberg, not the newest of passenger carriers but that's hardly a deal breaker. The light is starting to go, it’ll be dark well before any of us get home, we gathered at the stop and were soon joined by several other travellers. A well fed chap rolled over from the pizza takeaway place across the road and proceeded to get on the bus before starting it up – our driver I guess.

"How much is it?” Steff asked our bus expert.
"You can use your rail card,” Anna informed us as she searched for her own example.
"Cool,” something you always carry if you don’t want to get stung on the train!

The driver reopened the door and we climbed aboard. What is it with kids and the back seat on buses and coaches? Its like a magnet so of course we made our way back there and claimed not just the rear bench but the row ahead too – there are seven of us after all.

"So how long does it take?” I asked – I'd best ring home and give them an ETA, they should be back from wherever by now.
"Its about an hour to Dernau station,” Anna advised.
"An hour?”
"Never said it was quick, you could wait for the train,” she observed, "It goes along through Kripp to Sinzig and right through Neuenahr.”

Well it does mean we’re all together for another hour.

To be honest though I was almost past sensible cohesive conversation, its been a long day, I've been out over twelve hours, well okay I was home for half an hour this afternoon but you know where I'm coming from. The conversation flowed around me, I nodded off before we reached Kripp, only waking as the bus turned around at the ferry landing. For a moment or two I couldn’t work out where I was, only working it out when the ‘Stadt Linz’ arrived at the landing stage .

I did my best to stay lucid for the rest of the journey, the route visiting each village and bahnhof on its way. Passengers got on and off, few travelling any real distance, from one village to the next or even just across the town once we hit the micro-conurbation of Bad Neuenahr.

"How are you getting up to Esch?” Con asked Anna as the bus transited Ahrweiler Altstadt.
“Mum’ll be waiting at Dernau.”
"I've not seen her for ages,” I allowed.
You remember Gloria? She was Bern’s midwife here in Germany.
"Well unless you’re not saying anything there’s no reason for you to cross paths is there?” Anna pointed out.
"What do you...” I started before the euro cent dropped, “like that’s gonna happen!”

The others of course laughed hysterically at my ad vocation of celibacy.

By the time greetings had been exchanged with Gloria and I'd made the walk back to Bond Towers it was gone eleven thirty. The rest of the household were posed in front of the goggle box watching some load of tosh, looking at the scenery, set down in Bavaria. If you are used to British or American TV, home grown German programmes really are dire and even my fave, Tatort is ridiculous most of the time.

"Good evening?” Mum queried.
"Not bad, how was the ride?” I enquired in turn – not that I was that bothered.
"Gerolstein,” Mand offered from her position curled in one of the armchairs, "I said it was him.”
"The teacher must be involved though,” Mum opined.
"I'm off to bed,” I advised the telly watchers, "Nite.”
"Nite kiddo,” Dad allowed.

"What happened on your ride yesterday?” Dad asked when I hit the kitchen for Fruhstück.
"Happened?”
"The end of your ride, your BPM dropped through the floor.”
"Eh?” I had to think a moment, "Oh I caught the Express back from Remagen, I was like running late.”
"So how far did you go?”
"Dunno, eighty?” I suggested.
"Okay,” my parental unit concurred, "So what’s on the agenda today?”
"Therese is taking us to the wholesalers this morning, as far as I know we’re at the Weinstube working this evening, why?”
"Can’t I be interested?”
"I guess, coffee?”
"Thanks,” he held his mug out to be filled.
"So when do we get the camper?”
"Hopefully before the weekend, they are supposed to call today to confirm.”
"Why the hold up?”
"Well it needed servicing and so on.”
"Oh right.”
"I meant to ask, are you still wanting a Mofa permit?”
"Er yeah.”
"I'll get you the forms when I go to the traffic office later then.”
"Nice.”

I suppose most people are aware of the idea at least of wholesalers, you’ve probably seen their trucks or vans outside the shops, I know I have. That said until today I've never really thought about how the system works.

"So we don’t need to come here ourselves every week or whatever?” I confirmed.
"No, of course not, once we’ve got you sorted out today with a card you can just ring the order through,” Therese advised.
"So why’ve we come today?”
"Well you need to know what you’re ordering, I usually come every few weeks just to keep my finger on the pulse so to speak.”
"Right,” I allowed still not 100% sure what we’re doing today.

Con seemed content to push the trolley thing along – I guess she’s been before, so I trailed along with Therese.

"We can combine some stuff with the bakery in future,” Frau T suggested, "We’ll get some basics today – one of those boxes of dishwasher blocks Gab.”

I heaved the indicated box onto the trolley and set off after the Boss lady.

You can get just about anything here, from frozen chips to sanitary products, marches to fresh veg. Its all a bit mind boggling really.

"We’ll do the baked goods in house of course,” Therese advised as we bypassed shelves of cake, biscuits and breakfast bread, "Some places order their Brötchen through here but we can do them cheaper.”
"Er okay.”

Stuff got added to the trolley, the aforesaid frozen chips, packs of würst and so on, paper towels, packets of sugar, ketchup, mayo – well you sort of get the idea.

"How much?” I looked at the receipt again, nope, its still a fortune, "That’s like two months shopping.”
"Yeah but we will be selling stuff to pay for it,” Con pointed out.
"We haven’t got any soft drinks,” I panicked.
"Dad goes to the warehouse on Saturday for that stuff.”
"Why not get it here?”
“for how much we get through,” Therese started, "We get a better deal at the Getränkemarkt, this isn’t always the cheapest place to get stuff.”
“’Kay,” I agreed.

Looks like there’s more to this stuff than just being able to cook and sell.

"Oh wow, Jo’s done the shutters!”
"Nice,” Therese allowed, “lets get this stuff inside, we can give the coffee machine a try eh?”

I hurried around to the door and for the first time used my keys to open up the kiosk. That sounds really cool, my keys, oh I know simple things and all that but, well it is cool. We unloaded the car directly into freezers, cupboards and shelves, almost two hours at the wholesalers sorted out in ten at the kiosk.

"So what’re we doing about furniture for the garden,” I asked as we waited for the coffee machine to prime itself.
"All in hand,” Therese told us, "One of Helmut Sebenschuh's contacts.”
“Lions,” I surmised.
"Damn,” Con sighed, "We were supposed to pick up the flyers today.”
"There’s time,” her mum allowed, "Anything else?”
"Don’t think so.”

I got first go on the coffee machine, how much easier is it to just press a button rather than all the mucking about with the Gaggia – even Mand could manage this. The machine whirred, gurgled and steamed before a stream of coffee issued into the cup – neat. Mrs T took the cup and gave it a try.

"Hmm, not bad, might need to adjust the temperature a bit.”

I already had the next cup on the go – well its easy enough to make adjustments with this.

"So,” Therese went on, "Sunday. Dress rehearsal, we don’t want any problems on Monday do we, not with this secret guest and the press here.”
"Dress rehearsal?”
"Ga-bee, you know, practice cooking the Pommes and stuff.”
"Oh right, what about a till, we forgot a till.”
"No we didn’t, Tomas is fetching it tomorrow,” Frau Thesing told us.
“Phew!”

Well the coffee is at least drinkable, maybe not quite up to my barista standards but at least as good as some restaurants I've been to. Hang on, did Therese say press?

Maddy Bell © 21.02.17

 
"Press?”
"Of course, not much point in a grand opening if no one knows about it eh?” Therese pointed out.
When you put it like that, "I guess not.”
"Don’t look like that, Gabs,” Con grinned, "It’ll hardly be Stern and Bild will it?”
"It’s only the local stuff,” Therese confirmed.

I don’t even know where my press paranoia comes from, well it’s probably the girl hunt after the Munich wedding, I had money on my head, probably still have thinking about it. There wasn’t anything else the three of us could do so after our coffee we cleared up and departed. The Thesing’s dropped me off at home then went to get the flyers – folding them will be our job in the morning.

"Good morning?” Mum asked when I sloped into the kitchen.
"Define good.”
"Well did you get everything, you were going to the cash and carry right?”
"Yeah, Penny with bigger boxes,” I allowed pouring myself a glass of lemonade.
"All set for Monday then?”
"Just about, we’re gonna go up Sunday to practice with the fryers and stuff.”
"I thought you’d done that the other week?”
"Well not really, we did cook but that was really all about prep and cleaning.”
"You need some testers?”
"Didn’t think you were into fast food?”
"I can make exceptions when my daughter’s doing the cooking.”
"Anything so you don’t have to.”
"I was going to do a roast on Sunday.”
Hmm, Sunday roast, "All the trimmings?”
"I should think so, you could invite Max?”
"Why would I do that?”
"He has been helping your Dad up at the kiosk, just thought it would be a nice thank you.”

Ooo, she can be so reasonable! How can I nix the idea now she’s played the guilt card.

"Alright, I'll invite him, he might be working though,” hopefully.
"Wilhelm doesn’t open on Sundays.”
Damn, "Oh yeah.”
"So what’s your agenda for the rest of the day?”
"Working tonight.”
"Up at the Weinstube?”
"Yeah, load of tourists from England again.”
"Ironic really.”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "They come all the way over here and half the staff are English, so much for their authentic experience.”
Mum chuckled, "It’s a wonder Helmut hasn’t got you doing the old thigh slapping thing.”
"Don’t tempt him,” I mentioned in horror.
"I think it’s only the men do that,” Mum offered in conciliation.

The phone rang for best part of a minute before Max picked up, “von Strechau.”
“Max.”
"Gab?”
"Well duh, who else would be on my phone?”
"You aren’t on your Handy.”
"I'm not?” of course I'm not, stupid moo, I'm on the house phone, not gonna use my call time when I'm at home. "Just testing.”
"So what’s up, liebchen?”
"Up? Oh nothing really, Mum’s doing an English roast Sunday, you’re invited.”
"With the Yorkshires pudding?”
"Yorkshire,” I automatically corrected, "The works she said.”
"Yes please,” he enthused, "Will there be dessert?”
Damn, "Should think so.”

It never ceases to amaze me that for a nation with such a wide range of indigenous menu options that they are so inept at some basics. They can’t do proper gravy, mash potato, pies, puddings, proper chips or even custard, we could’ve won the war by just doing them a roast dinner. Okay, I enjoy plenty of German cuisine but I still hanker for steak and kidney pud, bread and butter pud and even sausage and mash.

"Gab?”
“Eh?”
"What time?”
"Time? Two?” I suggested.
"Great, I'll be there.”

"Did you ring Max?” Mum asked as Mand pinned my hair up.
"Two o’clock,” I replied.
"That should be okay, I take it you’re going to the kiosk in the morning?”
"Think that's the plan.”
"You girls riding up?”
"Yeah, Dad can have a drink.”
"Thank you for permission,” Dad stated joining us in the kitchen.
"I, I...”

"What was that about?” Mand asked as we kicked off down the drive.
"What?”
“Max.”
“Max?” Con queried.
"Gab’s been on the phone with him.”
"Ha, knew it!” Connie crowed.
"It’s not like that,” I protested.
"So what is it like?” Mand asked.
“Mum’s doing a roast on Sunday, she wanted me to invite him.”
"Oh yeah,” Con’s tone lacked belief.
"You should come too,” I suggested on impulse, safety in numbers.

"Ah you’re here girls,” Helmut greeted as we parked our steeds by the Wein kellar entrance.
"Hi, Mr S, everything okay?”
"Not exactly, Eva’s badly sprained her wrist so Ingrid’s in the kitchen on her own.”
"She alright?” Con asked.
"Pia’s supposed to be helping but you know Pia,” he shrugged.
Yeah, not exactly Jamie Oliver.
"I could help,” I volunteered.
"Yeah, Gabs is an ace cook,” Con added.
"It would be a great help,” Herr Sebenschuh allowed.

"Thanks, Gab,” Ing told me as we set too with preparing dinner for fifty, well fifty two if you include the driver and host with them.
“’S okay, I'll be doing catering at college after all. So how did your mum do her wrist?”
"Tried to catch one of the big pans that was slipping off the drainer, shoulda left it.”
“Empty?”
"Oh yeah, we were washing out for tonight.”

Economies of scale are double edged, clearly preparation takes more time but cooking doesn’t so you have to plan cooking time so you don’t get swamped when it comes to plating up.

"Thirty minutes,” Helmut told us through the kitchen servery.
“’Kay.”

"Hello again,” Julia greeted as she trailed her passengers into the restaurant.
"Welcome,” Helmut replied, "You are having good weather.”
"Thankfully, they’ve had two days of rain on the Dolomite trip.”
"All those mountains,” Sebenschuh suggested, "I'll get one of the girls to get you some coffee.”
"Thanks.”

The Global host looked around for the tiny girl she’d met last time, the one that Chris found so interesting.

"Coffee?” Manda suggested arriving at the crew’s table.
"Thank you, Julia and Phil,” Julia supplied.
"Amanda.”
"From Croydon right?”
"How did you know?”
"Your friend told me last time, she not working tonight?”
"So high, looks like an angel?”
Phil chuckled, "Sounds like the one.”
"Gabs, she’s in the kitchen tonight, we’re a bit short tonight.”
"Tell her hi.”
"Sure.”

I mopped my brow, the kitchen has got pretty warm despite the open door and extractors working overtime, "That it?”
"Just the drivers,” Mand mentioned through the hatch.
"Bum, hang on,” I pulled another couple of bowls out, "You got bread there?”
"Yeah, the girl, Julia said hi by the way.”
“’Kay, there you go,” I slid the soup across the counter, "I'll try to pop out later.”
"Ta.”

Of course there’s no break for the kitchen staff, I checked the Schweinhaxe in the ovens before setting out the tureens for the Sauerkraut and boiled potato’s – the same meal that’s been supplied on the previous Global visits.

"You alright, Gab?” Ing asked rejoining me after a stint on the bar while I sorted the soup.
"Can you put out the taters,” I requested.
"How’re the ‘haxe?”
"Look ready, I started the glaze.”

As if it wasn’t hot enough already, the addition of steam from the vegetables made things damp too. One thing’s for sure my uniform will most definitely need cleaning after this evening. With the tureens filled and out for distribution our attention moved to the meat content.

"Right, I've got the ovens if you do the plating,” Ingrid proposed.
"On it.”

By the time we had the first tray of pork knuckles on plates the others were returning soup bowls and distributing dishes of potatoes and cabbage. I spooned glaze over the meat by which time the next tray was on its way from the oven, a never ending circle of activity. Once the main course was out, the dirty crockery was loaded into the washer and we could have two minutes – thankfully the berry compote was already dished in the day fridge, the Sebenschuh's had got that done before Eva’s accident.

"Looks like we’ve cracked it,” I suggested.
"Thanks to you.”
"Team effort,” I stated.
"Well it might not have gone as well with my sister in here. I'll get the coffee started if you can get the desserts out.”

I can do that.

Maddy Bell © 28.02.17

 
"Could one of you take the crew some coffee,” Helmut requested – the others had their hands full with the actual ‘guests’.
"I'll do it,” I sighed – to be truthful I just wanted out of the kitchen for a bit.
"Thanks, Gaby.”

I slipped the cooks apron off before going out to the bar where the coffee machines live. Cups, saucers, cream, sugar, spoons, the passengers get a dinner mint, I dropped half a dozen on the tray and after checking my appearance, grabbed the freshest coffee jug.
 

"Hi, food okay?”
"Excellent thank you,” Julie replied in German.
"Er sorry, I forget not everyone speaks German.”
"That’s alright,” Phil allowed, "It’s not often we can’t make ourselves understood.”
"Yeah but I really need to practice my English,” I sighed.
"If you ask me it’s fine,” Julie opined as I set out the coffee cups.
"Tell that to Mum,” I sighed.
"Amanda said you were in the kitchen tonight,” Julie prompted.
"Yeah, Eva did her wrist earlier so I got the gig.”
"Well it was very good.”
"It’s not rocket science.”
"Well I know I couldn’t do it,” she admitted.
"I am sort of making it my career, we’re opening a kiosk up in Altenahr on Monday.”
"We?”
"Me and Con, the tall one with the coffee pot,” I indicated across the room.
"The place by the bridge?” Phil queried.
"That’s it,” I agreed.
"I said someone was doing it up,” Phil noted to his colleague.
I had a light-bulb moment, "Back in a moment.”
 
"Con!”
"Wassup?”
"You bring some flyers up?”
"In my basket still.”
"Great.”

I dodged past an incoming Mand and out to the bikes where I located a couple of stacks of Con’s Kabin flyers. Okay they’re not exactly fancy, but they’ve got all the info, next time we’ll have a photo on the front. I grabbed them and returned inside to the restaurant.
 

"Back,” I pointlessly stated pulling a couple of flyers from one of the stacks, "If you stop in Altenahr pop and see us.”

Phil took a flyer and quickly homed in on ‘English Pies’.

"English Pies?”
"You’ve got to have an angle right,” I told him, "We’re doing all the usual stuff too, würst, fries, frikadel.”
"Where are you getting pies from?” Julie asked, clearly intrigued.
"Con’s parents have a bakery, we do a different one each week there so we’ll just do some extras for the kiosk.”
"We’ll have to pop in next time we’re over,” Phil suggested, "Can we take a couple of these?”
"Sure,” I readily agreed.
"I'll tell Chris and Den, they’re out next,” Julia advised, "Den’s a bit of a pie man.”
"Not half,” Phil agreed.
"Take a few more,” I suggested peeling several more copies from the pile.
"We’ll pass them on,” Julia confirmed.
"Cheers, I'd best get back to work or Helmut’ll be docking my wages.”
"Well good luck next week,” Phil offered.
"Thanks, safe journeys.”
 

We were cleared up quite quickly this time, Helmut sent Con, Mand and me home just turned nine.

"You were getting cosy with the driver back there,” Mand opined.
"Telling them about the kiosk.”
"Dead useful,” Con proposed as we turned onto Zaungarten for the ride back to Dernau.
"Is so, get them to come and they’ll tell their passengers, their bus was parked at the Bahnhof earlier, bet they go on the chairlift, they’re bound to want a drink or snack.”
"She’s not just a pretty face,” Mand mentioned to Con.
"I could cope with her being cute, it’s the rest that worries me,” Con smirked.
"I. Am. Not. Cute!” I stated through gritted teeth.
"You so are,” Mand stated.
 

"What happened to you?” Juliette asked when we emerged from the bike shed.
"I was in the kitchen,” I told the assembled diners pulling a chair out to join them.
"Why were you in the kitchen?” Mum asked.
"Eva sprained her wrist.”
"Hope you didn’t poison anyone,” Jules teased.

I did a very adult tongue poke in response.

"We’ve only just sat down,” Mum advised as I surveyed their plates, hmm, home-made chilli, "Yours are in the micro.”
"I'll do it,” Mand offered much to my relief.
"So how come you’re here?” I asked my sister.
"I do live here,” she stated.
"Sometimes.”
"I needed some er books,” she admitted.
"I could’ve brought them,” Mand put in from her position by the microwave.
"No, I mean I wasn’t sure where they were and I wanted to see Mum anyway.”

Me smells a rat.
Ding!
My attention was diverted as Mand dropped a hot plate of steaming chilli and rice in front of me – hmm, nice.
 

"Your Apollinaris frock’s clean?” Dad enquired as Mum started dishing out ice cream to follow the chilli.
"Might be,” I allowed, I think I washed it after Celle.
"Make sure it is, you too please, Manda.”
"Why the sudden interest in women’s apparel, Dad?” Jules asked.
"Er yeah, what she said,” I added.
"George has organised a team meal Friday night,” Mum stated from behind me, "I'm sure he mentioned it Tuesday.”
"He did,” Mand confirmed, "But Gab’s was gallivanting with the Angels.”
"Gallivanting eh?” Jules snorted.
"We went for dinner,” I stated in my defence, "So what’s this dinner for?”
"Well he thought it would be nice, as both teams are at the ring on Saturday, to get everyone together,” Dad supplied.
"Where are the others staying?” I probed.
"That place by the tunnel.”
"Above the Tanzklub?”
"Where the bikers stay,” he confirmed.
"They’ll love that,” Mand opined.
"You fancy a trip tomorrow, kiddo?”
"I'm supposed to be folding flyers with Con.”
"You don’t fancy coming to pick up the camper then,” Dad tempted.
“From Wuppertal?”
"Hagen actually,” Mum added.
"Can Con come? Oh I sort of invited her for Sunday dinner.”
"Turning into a right do,” Dad mentioned with a shake of his head.
"Yes she can come tomorrow if she wants,” Mum confirmed.
 

"You never said we were leaving at silly o’clock,” I complained as we navigated the streets of Dernau.
"You never asked,” Dad observed.

When I rang Con last night she’d ducked out, preferring to fold flyers at home even though I suggested we could do it in the car on the way. Mind you, perhaps she didn’t fancy a trip with Mum driving, I have to say I don’t envy Dad sat in the front. In theory the drive up won’t be much longer than going to Ron’s but I'm guessing the return will be somewhat slower.

I made a pillow of my cardigan and made myself comfortable – might as well get a few z’s on the way up.

 
"Gab?”
"Hmm?”
"We’re here,” Dad informed me as Mum nosed the A Klasse into Wuppercampers yard.

As you might guess the place was full of camper vans, old school VW buses rubbing shoulders with huge new truck based Cloud-liners.

"Where’s ours?”
"Best go find out,” Dad suggested once Mum had the handbrake engaged.

We trooped over to the office where we were greeted by a paunchy chap with an Asterix moustache but not much hair on top.

"Dave!”
"Conrad,” Dad exchanged a handshake with the man.
"Conrad,” Mum allowed as he moved to her.
"And this?”
“Our youngest, Gabrielle, she rides on the team,” Mum mentioned.
"Ah, the famous Radrennerin.”

I had my hand shaken too before mention was made of the purpose of our visit.

"So, it’s all ready for you,” Conrad told us leading us through a showroom of camper accessories, "New tyres all round.”
"The shower?” Mum queried.
"A loose wire Frau Bond, you’ll need fuel I'm afraid.”
"We’ll live,” Dad told him as we reached another door which Conrad opened.
"So what do you think, Gabrielle?”
"It’s big,” I managed.

The big chap chuckled, "Big. come, come, we can do the paperwork inside, Dave while the ladies check it out.”
Of course my parents have been around it last weekend but their descriptions hardly do it any kind of justice. It is huge, three axles, it’s like a not so small coach! I used to think our old LT was quite big but this behemoth dwarfs that sort of thing. I eagerly clambered inside followed by Mum.

"Well?” Mum queried.
"It’s amazing.”
"Come on, I'll give you the tuppeny tour whilst your Dad sorts out the paperwork with Conrad.”
"Sure,” I enthused.
"We’ll start at the back.”

I won’t bore you with an exhaustive description of the mobile palace but for those who like some detail here’s a quick resume. So it’s got a fully equipped galley, proper shower and toilet, sleeps six although I reckon you could get at least two more in if you utilised the lounge area. Dad reckons there’s enough room underneath for all the bikes and other stuff, yeah this thing really is massive.
 

Maddy Bell © 28.02.17

 
Dad edged the behemoth out of the yard onto the road, Mum following behind in the A, I of course was strapped in next to Pater. Talk about weird, for starters you get into the cab bit from the camper, there aren’t any doors! Then of course you are sat miles away from everything although the view from so high up is pretty cool.

There’s a fuel station next to the camper place so we used that to fill the monster’s dual tanks. That done it didn’t take long to reach the A1 and the stream of traffic heading west.

"What are we turning off for?” I queried a few minutes later, "The A1 goes straight to Kӧln.”
"We aren’t going to Kӧln. though.”

Beep beep! Mum pulled past and waved before accelerating off down the A1 as we slowed to navigate the A43 A46 A1 interchange.

"So where’re we going?”
"Mettmann.”
"What for?”
"Well it’s a bit daft being up here today then having come back again tomorrow to pick up Ron and Angela.”
"I guess,” I allowed, what would we do without Dad’s magnificent brain on the job?
"So they staying at Altenahr?”
"Not tonight.”
"At ours?”
"Sort of,” he supplied changing lanes to pass a string of trucks.
"What’s sort of mean?”
"They’re going to christen this thing.”
"They can’t!”
"Why not may I ask?”
"We should be the first to use it,” I told him.
"It was part of the idea, that we’d use it for occasions like this,” he pointed out.
"I know but it is our camper.”
"So what do you suggest?”
"They could use the pull outs like before?”
"You could give up your bed,” he proposed.
"For why?”
"You could sleep in here instead of Angela.”

Hmm, he might have something there.

 
It didn’t take long to reach the Mettmann turn off and our exit from the autobahn network, joining instead the somewhat twistier and narrower B7. It might only be about ten K to the Grönberg’s but we must’ve stopped ten times to allow trucks and stuff to pass us – Dad being justly cautious. Eventually though we reached our destination, hey Grönberg’s, cake!

 
"It’s huge,” Ron mentioned as she followed me into the Hymer.
“’S what I said.”

Angela had of course suggested we have lunch before leaving so whilst that was being organised I volunteered to show Ron the mobile gin palace. Well I wanted to explore more too.

"Full kitchen,” I supplied, "There’s even a full size oven.”
"And fridge freezer,” Ron added opening said door.
"Really?” I hadn’t seen that.

This thing’s got more stuff than some houses! We opened doors, tested mattresses, lounged on the sofa – well you have to don’t you?

"Girls?”
"Did you know there’s a DVD player, Daddy?”
"Yep, kiddo,” he admitted stepping up to join us, "So, does it pass muster?”
"It’s well cool, Mr B,” Ron told him.
"Angela’s just serving up so let’s go in the house, eh?”

Food, camper – food wins.

 
Training was of course our Adenau – Nurburg circuit, new for Ron but pretty mundane for me an’ Mand.

"Geez, doesn’t this ever stop?”
"Not until we get to the circuit,” Mand advised a little smugly, for once she could be superior to Ron.
"I never realised it was so hilly,” Westfalia Ron admitted.
"You’ve been before,” I noted.
"Not to ride, you don’t notice the drags in the car.”
"Not far now,” I advised, "Ramps up a bit through Quiddel then we’re at the circuit.”
"Thought we went under it back a ways?”
"The long circuit, the GP circuit’s up at the top.”
"Joy,” Ron sighed.
"We’re inside the big circuit,” Mand added.

 
We usually use the main road past the circuit but with Ron along we took the quieter, more scenic route through Nurburg village past the castle and the public circuit access point . The distant growl of a performance car signalled its impending arrival on the Döttinger Höhe, the Nordschleife circuit’s kilometre plus straight. Ron strained to spot the automotive missile, I guess it’s a bit of a novelty for her, we locals pretty much ignore the noise and so on.

Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww.

The streak of green flashed along the track followed shortly by the dopplering of the exhaust as it slowed up at the grandstands.

"Geez, that was shifting,” Ron stated.
"They can do like three hundred along that bit,” I spouted.
"Three hundred?”
"Not all of them,” I backtracked a bit.
"More like thirty for us on Saturday,” Mand suggested.
"Yeah,” I agreed.
"We’re riding on the circuit?” Ron queried.
"Three laps of the long circuit sandwiched between laps of the GP according to Dad.”

 
With that sobering thought we pushed on towards Hohe Acht, the six hundred metre plus high point of both the circuit and this evening’s ride. Of course there’s the fun of the Kaltenborn – Kesseling descent to follow and of course Mand and me had to show off. There’s one particular dip, just after Herschbach, that I particularly enjoy, I prepared myself and flexed my knees.

Down into the dip, pump the legs, up and, "Waaargh!”

Now usually I get the wheels off the ground, you know, maybe ten centimetres but with showing off I was going faster and pumped harder. I certainly caught some air, a lot of air in fact, by the time I returned to terra firma I had a death grip on the bars. How I stayed upright I'll never know, the landing wasn’t the lightest, I sat up as soon as I was in control.

"Flippin’ ‘eck, Gab!” Ron almost shrieked.

I raised a hand in acknowledgement, the others taking a few moments to rejoin me.

"You been practising?” Mand accused.
"Nope, just skill I guess,” I bluffed.
"You must’ve been half a metre off the road,” Ron supplied.
Sugar.
"Maybe don’t tell Dad?” I requested.

Suffice to say I took it a bit easier the rest of the way down.

 
"You awake?”
"No,” I mumbled, "What?”
"You ever wonder what you’ll do after all this?” Ron asked.
"All what?” I turned onto my back and stared into the weird ‘not’ light of the Hymer’s master bedroom.

Okay I swapped my Gab den to share with Ron just so I could claim first overnight in the camper – hope Angela appreciates my forfeiture of the eyrie.

"This, you know, Apollinaris, racing and stuff.”
"After?”
"Well we can’t do it for ever can we?”
"Don’t see why not.”
"It would be nice,” Ron admitted, “but you’ve got a plan B right?”
"I can make a mean Latte.”
"Seriously, Gab.”
"Well I'm doing the hospitality management thing at college from September, I suppose I could do that. You?”
"Truth?”
"Duh!”
"I always wanted to be a painter.”
"I thought you were doing history at college?”
"I am but like it’s not exactly a career is it?”
"You could teach,” I suggested.
"Yeah,” she sounded less than enthusiastic.
"So we’ll race forever, we’ll never be wage slaves with a nine to five.”
"Says she starting a new job next week.”
"That's different.”
"If you say so.”
"I need to sleep,” I punctuated with a yawn.
"Yeah,” she agreed.

Of course then I couldn’t get to sleep instead thinking over what Mand had said. Damn you Grönberg!

 
I awoke somewhat discombobulated, no roof light, bed too wide, it didn’t even sound right and then there was the light rocking and what sounded like footsteps.A door opened and light flooded into the dim enclosure, "You getting up, Gab?”
Ron, camper – what is the time?

"Er yeah I guess, woz the time?”
“Bit before eight.”
"Urgh!”
 

"You doing stuff with Connie, Gab?” Dad enquired clearing his breakfast stuff up.
"Er think so.”
"You coming to HQ, Ron? Me and your mum need to sort supplies out for tomorrow.”
"I could just hang here?”
"Fair enough, Gab, you’re in charge of security.”
“’Kay.”

Mum, Dad and Angela headed down to Bad Neuenahr shortly afterwards along with the Hymer.
 

"You want to hang with me and Con?”
"The girl from the bakery?”
"Uh huh, not sure what we’re doing mind.
“Could do, I hadn’t really got anything planned.”
"I know, we can show you the kiosk.”
"Fine.”
"We can go on the city bikes,” I enthused.

And so half an hour later two of the country’s top under eighteen girl cyclists departed Schloss Bond looking no more like serious cyclists than Frau Holdorf does a marathon runner!

Maddy Bell © 03.03.17

 
"Guys!” Ron complained.
Con and I stopped again to wait for her to catch up.
"Thought you were a hotshot racer?” Con grinned.
"I've not ridden one of these clunkers for years.”
"Excuses, excuses,” I offered with a snigger.

There followed a round of tongue poking and raspberry blowing which gained us some funny looks from a group of Dutch Trekkers. Of course that only exacerbated things.

"Come on,” I eventually proposed, "Or we’ll never get to the kiosk.”
"Slave driver,” Con pouted.

The idea, suggested by Frau T, was that we drop off some of our flyers on the way up. So instead of a straightforward ride we’ve been stopping at pretty much everywhere that’s open up the valley, hotels, the tankstelle – even the supermarket in Mayschoß. Not sure how much use the scattered distribution will be but I guess, as Therese told us, don’t ignore any opportunity.

With that thought flyers appeared on notice boards, in the boxes that the free Radweg guides live in and thrust in anyone’s hand that would take one. I guess it’ll be one of those ‘hidden’ jobs that no one tells you about – maybe we can convince someone to do it for us in exchange for a würst? Anyhow we resumed our odyssey up the Ahrtal, eventually reaching Altenahr best part of three hours after leaving the bakery.

 
"Oh cool!” Con enthused from around the front while I tackled the entry to Fort Knox.
"What?”
"The furnitures here.”

Good news indeed, I guess the ‘old boy’ network thing does have its uses. Ron headed around the building whilst I finished opening up, I primed the coffee machine before going to investigate myself. I wasn’t quite sure what we were getting so I was well surprised when I turned into Gab’s Garden.

"Wow.”
"They’re all locked together,” Con advised, "You see a key inside?”
"Er no but there again I wasn’t looking for one either.”
"I'll go look,” she told us already heading that direction.
"These must’ve cost a cent or two,” Ron opined.
"No kidding,” I agreed surveying the stacks of chairs and tables.

When I'd originally suggested the ‘garden’ I'd imagined we’d have either the ever popular wooden picnic benches or the horrible but practical plastic garden stuff. But this, well this is class.

"Ta da!” Con sang, "On the hotplate, did you put the coffee machine on?”
"Yeah, not coming all the way up here and not have a coffee, keys?”

She lobbed me the keys and we quickly had the furniture freed of its shackles and a set positioned on our gravelled apron.

"Could do with a cushion,” Ron suggested as she tested out one of our cast iron chairs.
"Never satisfied, coffee?”
"Espresso?”
"Con?”
"Er usual please garçon.”
"Cheeky moo.”
"Think you’re right Roni, cushions.”

I left them discussing soft furnishings and went to work my magic with the WMF 5000 – well press the buttons at least.

 
I sat back and closed my eyes, the warm sunshine adding to the relaxing atmosphere. Oh there’s passing traffic, the Express even but tune those out and the void is filled with birdsong, the gurgle of the river and the rustle of leaves. Aaargh, re-lax-ing.

 
"We need to get back Gab’s,” Ron advised.
"We do?”
"This dinner thing?”
"Damn.”

Its not so much the dinner, far from it, we’ll have a good nosh, no its having to go a la ‘Pollinaris in that damned team dress.

 
"Why can’t we just wear ordinary stuff?” I moaned for the umpteenth time.
"Because,” Dad repeated.
"Hold still,” Mum added giving my head a firm twist so she could complete the French plait my locks were to be contained by this evening.
"Ow!” I exclaimed as she stuck a hairgrip into my scalp.
"If you’d stop squirming i’d’ve been done by now.”

 
Of course what you’ve missed is the whole afternoon. After washing the cups and re-stacking and locking the furniture we departed the kiosk as the bahnhof clock hit one o’clock. Unlike the uphill journey returning to Dernau was a much swifter affair even if Ron was riding the brakes – okay the hub brakes on our steeds don’t exactly stop you quickly but even so.

Anyhow, when we got back to Bond Acres it was to be greeted with the northern contingents hired minibus, bikes and bags stacked all over the place and of course enough riders and helpers to er, make up the team. The chaos continued for some time until Sonja, Gret’s mum that is, suggested the visitors decamp to their accommodation so they could get ready. Which left the normal occupants of the Bond household alone to prepare for the bean feast.

 
"We going in the Hymer?”
"The A,” Dad replied, “unless you fancy walking up from the river.”

Oh yeah, we’re eating at Der Mühle – I guess George doesn’t want to splash too much dosh – maybe me an’ Con should put in a quote!

"Well I'm not walking when we can park my car behind the restaurant,” Mum pronounced.
"You can ride in the camper tomorrow,” Dad promised.
"Geez Gab, what’s the fascination?” Mand asked returning from fetching her bolero style cardi – it’ll probably be cool when we head home later.

 
Ting, ting, ting!
The general hubbub in the room died down, George waiting for quiet before speaking.

"Ladies, gentlemen. Some of you I see regularly, others less often but I consider you all to be equal members of the Apollinaris cycling organisation. I'll keep this short, I can see the staff are waiting to feed us. So enjoy yourselves tonight, not too much.”

That raised a few chuckles.

"Tomorrow up at the ring we need to make a good impression, our headline sponsors will be watching but its our home event too, I'm sure there will be plenty of local support. So good luck, prost!”

We all raised our drinks and replied in kind.

 
Josh stuck a finger in his collar to try and loosen it a bit, "Coulda done without all the fancy keks like.”
"You should try these frocks,” I shot back.
"Ah’ll leave that to youse man, y’all look fair canny ta me like.”
"What’s he say?” Kat asked.

Oh yeah, its obviously not just the riders here tonight, Mike and Pet are here somewhere too, Kat’s sort of part time of course.

"Something about us looking nice I think,” Mand whispered down the table.
"Aw man!”

We descended into silliness, Josh an easy target for our humour. Eva and co had done us proud again, nothing too heavy, summer minestrone to start, beef strips, boiled rice and veggies followed by strawberry sorbet. For such a collection of lean individuals a lot of food was consumed, liquid too but the alcohol was noticeable by its absence.

 
"People!” Dad’s tone suggested he was after our attention, "Thank you. we’ll have the team talk up at the ring in the morning but I'll just run through the programme tonight as its a bit different to usual. So after breakfast I'll drop Gaby and Amanda at the hotel and you’ll ride up to the circuit together, Dieter will follow in the bus whilst Angela and Sonja will go with me to the circuit – we should be set up by the time you arrive.
The senior women start ahead of you, you’ll be about fifteen minutes behind starting, its a big circuit so its unlikely you’ll conflict.”
"Why the ride up?” Tal asked, "I mean we usually use the turbo’s.”
"I think you’ll be more relaxed with the road ride, its likely to be noisy and chaotic at the circuit. Anyone else?”

There was an exchange of looks and some shoulder shrugging but no comments.

"Okay, we shan’t be staying long tonight, try to get a good nights sleep,” Dad concluded.

 
"How far is it up to the circuit?” Gret asked.
"Took us about an hour and three quarters yesterday,” Ron offered.
"That was from Dernau,” I pointed out, "Its about thirty K from your hotel, I can do it in just over an hour.”
"Hour and a half for normal mortals,” Mand suggested.
"Some warm up man,” Josh mentioned.
"The last bit is sort of like the circuit,” I offered.
"Well hilly,” Ron supplied.
"Its not that bad,” I tempered, "We’ve ridden worse.”
"Some of us haven’t done any real climbing for weeks.” Tal stated.
"Its no worse than the Schwarzwald.”
"And that was soo easy,” Gret noted.
"Ma legs oor aching jus’ thinkin’ aboot it like,” Josh added.
"We’ll only be riding tempo.”
"Where’ve I heard that before,” Mand stage whispered to the others.

 
"Really Dad, why are we riding up tomorrow?” I queried as we followed Dieter and the others out of Ahrweiler.
"What I said, I want you all relaxed.”

Mum gave him a look.

"Why tomorrow, why not at Hamburg or Celle?” I pressed.

He didn’t reply immediately, had he heard me?

"I said...”
"I heard you kiddo,” he interrupted. "This goes no further right? Amanda?”
"Guides honour.”
"Gab?”
"Whatever,” I agreed.
"You’re riding up so the others aren’t surprised in the race, to be honest I'm a little concerned with how they’ll manage. there’s a lot of climbing tomorrow and the Greta and Thalia in particular really haven’t got much climbing in their legs this year.”

I guess that's really telling it how it is.

"So we got a plan?”
"Crossed fingers?” Dad proffered.
"Seriously?”

Dieter tooted his horn when we reached our turn before continuing up the valley.

"I'm still working on it, I needed to speak to Dieter before getting too stuck on a plan. Its my own fault, I should’ve scheduled some more challenging stuff for them.”
"We’ve still got Ron and Josh is a monster,” I promoted.
"Lets hope that's enough.”
We swung in behind the Hymer and Dad cut the engine, "Not a word in the morning right?”
"We said,” I mentioned before climbing out and following an unusually subdued Mum up into the house.

Maddy Bell © 04.03.17

 
"Ready guys?” Dieter asked as we fiddled with mitts, shoes and helmets in the hotel car park.

That got the usual round of grunts and non committal body language.

"I'll take that as yes, okay, steady ride, Gaby lead off please.”
“’Kay,” I agreed snapping my foot onto the pedal.

 
"Tha camper van’s pretty canny like,” Josh mentioned.
"Not bad,” I agreed.

The Toon got to ride with me by default, Mand was rabbiting with Tali, Ron with Gret when we set off.

"Spoke to Jamie the other day.”
"Yeah? He all right?”
"Aye, apparently he’s got an invite from BC to do a training camp again.”
"Really? I've not heard anything.”
"Me either man,” he advised.
"You don’t think we’ve been dropped?”
"Can’t see why like.”
"Rails!” I shouted in warning as we approached Altenahr’s level crossing.
We clattered across before I continued, "I'll give Cav a call, he always seems to know what’s going on.”
"Aye, not much gets past him like. So what’s the crack today like?”
"Crack?”
"Come on man, there’s more to this ‘warm up’ than peace and quiet.”

Thanks Dad.

"No idea,” I fibbed, “guess Dad wants everyone prepared for the circuit.”
"Well this is hardly that testing man.”
"It climbs all the way to the circuit,” I advised, “gets steeper after Adenau.”
"Hmm.”
"So, you an’ Tal?” I enquired to change the subject.

 
We kept a steady talking pace rotating at about kilometre intervals, Dieter a constant presence about twenty metres behind providing a degree of traffic protection. I know I occasionally ride with the senior squad but this morning, a relaxed ride with my peers, well maybe Dad’s relaxation line wasn’t just a bluff. From Adenau there’s a choice of three routes up to the circuit, Hohe Acht, Quiddelbach or Haus Brigitte.
Of these, the first climbs highest, Quiddelbach the longest and the last, well it’s the shortest but steepest option and today's choice.

"So where’s this climb?” Gret, miss flatland herself requested as we crossed inside the circuit at Breidscheid.
"You’ll see,” Ron advised her riding partner.

The road was of course ramping up a bit more but not enough to stop conversation – yet.

"Next left,” I called out.
"Bum,” Mand muttered, recognising which route we were taking.

We made the turn towards Herschbroich where the real climb gets going – I'm sparing them the shorter and even steeper climb avoiding the village. The exchange of words quickly decreased as the grade started to bite, Josh gave me a querying look. There was no disguising the continuing ascent, I indicated back to Josh with a hand signal that it’d get steeper after the next bend.

Although I was the first to move onto the hoods, everyone is sufficiently experienced that all six of us rose as one when things got more serious. The minibus was already complaining, let’s face it, it wasn’t built for crawling up steep inclines at ten kph. Of course, whilst we weren’t racing it was now every girl and Josh for themselves, our tight formation quickly becoming a straggle of effort.

 
I tried to keep a steady pace out of the village, my breathing more laboured of course but not as much as some of my companions. The road dragged up into the trees before any kind of respite allowed any relaxation. Josh, despite his size, doggedly half wheeled me and a look behind revealed Mand and Ron together a few lengths back but the others, well the minibus was barely in sight.

Looks like Dad’s fears have some grounds.

"Much, huh, further man?”
I shook my head, “’Nother steep bit then it evens out.”
"Should we wait like?”
"Over the ramp,” I suggested.

Ever tried climbing at someone else's slower speed? It’s excruciating, better to go at your own pace and wait later. Josh nodded in agreement before hitting the bottle.

 
We watched Tali and Gret on the ramp, neither were in distress, in fact they seemed to be having a conversation.

"Come on you two,” Ron chivvied.
"It’s not a race,” Tal called back.
"But we do have to get to one like,” Josh allowed under his breath.
"I heard that, Josh Waugh,” his girlfriend advised as she and Gret joined us.
"How much further,” Gret queried as we got going again.
"Five maybe,” I guessed.

The remainder of the ride, whilst generally heading skyward lacked anything of serious gradient, the handicap rather than being physical became mobile, riders in groups and singly using the old Nürburg village road for their own pre race warm ups.

 
"Not bad,” Dad allowed checking his watch as we pulled up at the Team Apollinaris compound, "Any problems?”
“Gab brought us up Herschbroich,” Mand moaned.

Dad gave me a questioning look.

"It’s the shortest way,” I told him in my defence.
"Okay, get yourselves a drink, go get signed on, the seniors are in the Hymer once they're done we’ll talk tactics okay?”

Two teams, several vehicles, support staff, a couple of easy ups – the Apollinaris camp certainly looked impressive. The encampment was certainly getting some attention, the more so with the stack of free water in front of the camper. Yeah, Gerolsteiner might’ve stolen the sponsorship rights but Apollinaris are clearly not taking it lying down.

 
"Right, find yourself seats,” Dad instructed as we climbed into the camper fifteen minutes later.

Everyone found seats, our adult support team wedging themselves in behind.

"Okay, this is a biggy, guys, the sponsors are looking for a result today so we need to use everything at our disposal, we can’t be experimental like Celle but neither do we want to ride as predictably as Maastricht.”
"Doesn’t leave much like,” Josh opined.
"But not without anything,” Dad observed. "I'm sure you all realise there was more to this morning’s ride than just getting you warmed up, I needed some last minute information. Greta, Tali, you dropped behind on the climb...”
"We were taking it easy,” Tali offered.
"I'm not pointing fingers,” Dad interjected, "Today, there’re two climbs tougher than that each lap.”
"Bum,” Ron mentioned.
"As you say, Ron so here’s what we’re going to do...”

 
"And lastly local favourites Team Apollinaris including our series leader and Weltmeisterin, Gaby Bond!” today's MC had been waxing lyrical for nearly ten minutes. Rather ironic really, half of us are actually English and only two of us actually live in the Eifel.
"Come on,” Gret mumbled.
"Patience,” I proposed as I grinned and waved at the small crowd watching and awaiting the start of the Nürburgring Radfest Jungern Radrennen.

Being on a closed circuit, a lot of the usual Commisaire’s waffle wasn’t needed so other than instructions regarding feeds and the neutral service there wasn’t much for him to detain us with.

BANG!

And we’re off, first for a lap of the five kilometre Grand Prix circuit.

 
The neutral zone was about as short as is allowed and the first attack started as soon as the green flag dropped. Yeah, we’ve got seventy quite hilly kilometres to go and a two pronged attack has been launched, Gret on one side of the track, Tali the other. Hope you’re right about this, Dad.

Half the field were still playing with gears and pedals and of the rest that spotted their departure confusion reigned. The consensus seemed to be one of ‘only girls’, more than a bit condescending but one day they might learn to not take us so lightly, anyhow it did mean the reply was muted. The GP circuit, whilst not flat isn’t hugely undulating either and the girls soon came together to make good some open road.

"Well that went well,” Mand observed.
"Long way to go,” I noted.

 
We stayed fairly tight in the peloton, Josh riding herd, watching out for any chase but as we made our way through the Eifel countryside there was no indication of any enthusiasm to bring them back any time soon. Pretty much as Dad predicted – how does he do it? that’s not to say we were hanging about, far from it but you need more than just speed to catch a breakaway.

I've never been on the circuit before and the size and terrain mean that apart from the GP circuit and the adjoining Döttinger Höhe straight you can only see a few tiny bits of the track. As a result I had no idea where we were on the circuit until we passed through Breidscheid and started the Hohe Acht climb, all five K of it. No one was chasing the escapees, the otherwise almost intact peloton instead held a steady pace.

I checked my confederates, Josh purring along, Roni sat at his shoulder and Mand with her newfound climbing confidence spinning nonchalantly to my left. Geez, we’re in danger of looking professional here! This climb is the gamble, if this lot decide to get enthusiastic it could kill Dad’s plan but if the girls get over the summit – well I guess it’s plan B.

 
The day was developing some heat but thankfully the twisty nature of the circuit and plenty of surrounding foliage meant that despite it nearing noon it hadn’t yet got too unpleasant. Things remained steady as we gained metres, well okay there was more enthusiasm on the steeper ramps, I doubt race cars even change gear but human power means more effort is needed. A bit of excitement occurred as the summit came into view but it was less about chasing the leaders than some macho getting to the top first stuff.

Off the other side the pace quickly picked up stringing the bunch into a multi coloured shoelace of whirring legs. we’d been split up on the final assault but I found a familiar wheel to sit on, Paul Innerthausen. Whoever was on the front was certainly giving it some but as soon as we hit the long drag of the Höhe things calmed down a bit.

 
"Bondt.”
"Paul,” I acknowledged.
"Thought it’d be you up the road.”
"Not likely, these hills are brutal.”
"I thought you were the Bergmeisterin.”
"If you say so, on your own?”
"Might as well be, Sep always rides for Sep and I'm hardly the mountain goat.”
"Some things never change,” I agreed.
"Looks like your friends have got away clean.”
"Possibly, it’s a long way yet.”
"Yeah.”

I tried to get a look up the track but wherever Gret and Tal are, they aren’t in direct sight.

 
"What you reckon, man?” Josh asked.
"He’ll be in.”
"Next lap then.”
"Yep,” I agreed, "Next lap.”
 
Maddy Bell © 09.03.17

 
It might be an uphill drag but it’s a fast surface and the little wind today helped hasten us up towards the GP circuit. We don’t do the GP circuit as a loop this time, instead we go straight into our second lap of the Nordschleife. We crested the summit and the sensible reached for bottles and food, the feed is next lap and still over twenty K away.

Of course the rather distant grandstands were silent but the small group of spectators were pretty vocal, aided and abetted by the MC. I spotted Dad at the barrier and angled a bit closer.

"Next time,” I huffed.
"Two thirty,” came the reply
The exchange might’ve been brief but we’d exchanged all we needed in those four words.
"We okay?” Ron asked moving alongside.
"Yeah, next time on the climb,” I advised in low tones.
"Tal?”
"Two and a half.”

She nodded at the news – we’d hoped for about two so we were stronger than the plan calls for. No sooner had I imparted the news than the girls popped into view across the grass infield. Damn, if anyone else spots them it might rev up a chase.
 
Well obviously as they are Apollinaris riders we’re not going to make any sort of pursuit but then the onus is on us to control things. Well that’s the theory. There were a couple of short lived attempts to give chase, Josh jumping on each in turn.

The next attack didn’t need the Toon’s attention, Mand went from the right hand gutter and quickly acquired twenty metres and a brace of faithful followers. I must admit to allowing a bit of a smirk to reach my face as she led her tail and inevitably the rest of the peloton first to one kerb then the other. She kept it up for a full kilometre before sitting up, at which point the chasers eased up too – the escape thwarted.

Of course there never had been any intention for Mand to get away but it was a great diversionary tactic, one that both satisfied the bunch’s desire to chase whilst actually slowing things down. Sneaky eh. By the time we were headed into the countryside again Tal and Gret were pretty much forgotten, the twisty track keeping them from view – at least for now.
 
"Well that was interesting man,” Josh noted as we hovered around tenth wheel.
"So ready?”
"First ramp?”
"About right,” I agreed, "Best let Ron and Mand know.”
"Yeah,” he agreed sliding off the pace to find them.
I dug in my jersey pocket for another energy bar – well better safe than sorry, not far now.
 
Phish, phish, phish.
Sugar. I stuck an arm in the air and steered across towards the track edge.
"Wassup?” Ron asked.
"Puncture, front.”

Rear punctures are rarely much of a problem, if need be you can ride for a bit on them but front, well you need to get stopped asap.
Josh and Mand were soon in attendance too, standard team tactic but potentially dangerous.

"Swap?” Mand offered as we slowed.
My brain was working overtime for a positive, ding! “Ron, Mand stay with the bunch, Josh’ll get me back.”
 
No point in wearing everyone out. The girls managed to tag into the tail of the peloton as Josh and I came to a halt. I stayed over the bike, opening the quick release and removing the wheel before hearing the neutral service stopping behind us.

It didn’t save much but in this situation every second counts, I tried to remain calm as the rest of the race disappeared up the road. The mechanic slotted the replacement home and closed the lever, I was clipped and moving before he had the flat out of Josh’s hand. Then of course I couldn’t get my left shoe to engage.

"Come on, lass,” Josh instructed as he placed a ham on my posterior to provide me with forward motion as I played with my pedal.

Eventually, it was probably like two seconds, the cleat snapped into place and we could start the chase back.

"Cheers, Josh.”
"It’s what I do, man, noo set in and shut oop like.”
"Yes, sir.”
 
We weren’t gaining anything initially, the course dropping towards Adenau lending more speed to the chased as well as chasers. I glued myself to the Toon’s rear wheel, maybe a little closer than sense would suggest but I've enough confidence in my tractor to tuck in as close as possible. It had been a fairly quick change but it was still most of a minute loss, the rest of the race now about five hundred metres ahead of us. At least the service didn’t come past which they should’ve done.

Josh kept the power on, the speed barely affected on the first couple of inclines. There was no energy available to lose to conversation, not that there was anything to say, I poked my head around him a couple of times to check on progress. We were still adrift when we hit the first ramp, where we should’ve been attacking.

“Our turn, J,” Ron puffed.

He swung left and I swapped to Mand’s wheel, her smaller size not impacting much given that we were climbing at over five percent. I could see the peloton easier now, the girls had only needed to drop about fifty metres back to us but having ridden the bunch for the last five K were somewhat fresher than Josh. Ron took over the pace, Mand falling in behind with Josh.

Luckily the rest of the race were more intent on climbing than attacking at this point and we made contact as we lost a couple of percentage points of gradient. Thank the heavens for that.
 
“How’re you doing?” I asked of Josh.
"Coulda done without that like.”
"Yeah,” I agreed.
"You still on plan A, man?”
“How’re you fixed?”
"Be nice to have some help,” he allowed.
"Innerthausen?”
"If he’s game like.”
"If he is, top ramp?”
"Aye, princess.”

We won’t have as much leeway over the top but it’s either this or leave it next time round and just a dozen kilometres to play with and possibly no stepping stones.
 
The gangly German was holding station near the front of the peloton.
"Trouble, Bondt?”
"Puncture,” I allowed, "Next ramp if you’re interested.”

He signalled confirmation with a finger wave from the bars – no sense alerting everyone else with vocals. I let some other bikes come between us but maintained a near front location, the rest of the sky blue jerseys soon joining me.

"We on?” Mand asked quietly.
"You got any water, I'm out,” I loudly enquired in German rather than our race usual English.
“Out ‘till the feed,” she hammed back.

Pretty standard stuff unless you looked at our bidons, the message was however passed, my lieutenants forewarned and armed.

I made a quick assessment of the opposition, a couple of handyish riders from the League, Paul of course but the bulk are more local. This is about the pinnacle of Rheinland Pfalz junior racing – the bulk being short circuit things and crits – one reason we don’t ride locally that much. If we can make a clean break I think we might get away with it, well fingers and toes crossed.
 
We crawled up towards the Hohe, I dampened my airways from my bidon, we’re all set. Although the track twists about a fair bit none of the corners are that tight so the ramp is visible some distance before it kicks up, around me riders were already changing gears some two hundred metres away. I moved a little sidewise to give me a clear escape route but stayed seated for now.

There’s a crucial point on any climb where you have to commit to how you are going to tackle it, sit and winch up or hit it like a top and hope you can make the top before blowing. Oh of course on those long alpine things you can power along the low grades and just leave the saddle for short sharp inclines but today the crucial bit is under two K.

The peloton started to slow, any moment now it’s commit or abandon. Just as I was about to stall Josh launched, a moment later Paul followed with me taking the opposite side of the roadway. Of course there was the usual complaining and crunching of gears but the shortest of glances under my arm revealed a clean escape.

Josh heaved his high gear round, Paul in close attendance then as the road turned I crossed over to make it three. My team mate started to tire and Innerthausen took on the pace, Josh gamely staying alongside for as long as he could.

"Soz, man, I'm done like.”
Damn, "See you at the finish, yeah?”
"Aye,” he agreed.
“Later, English,” Paul added as Josh slipped back.
I moved up to take my turn on the front.
“Just the two of us, eh?”
"It’s only thirty K,” I got out between breaths.
“Less talking then, eh.”
 
I had a good cadence going, Paul was matching me stroke for stroke, sharing the pace setting as we stretched the elastic to the following pack. As the grade eased over the top I snicked up a gear and raised the tempo; if we are going to make this stick we need as much over the top as possible. We were almost sprinting at the summit and as we started the descent I caught sight of Tal and Gret ahead of us – at least something’s still going to plan.

There was no time to sit back, we don’t have much in hand and the girls won’t be much help for long I don’t think. Back in the big ‘ring, I led the charge off the hill, closing the gap to the leaders quicker than I'd expected. In fact we made contact as we hit the drag and where if it had been anyone else I’d’ve accelerated past, well we needed the girls today.

"What took you,” Gret queried as we matched velocity.
"Where’s Joshy?”
"Couldn’t make it but we’re here.” I gasped out.
"This gossip is very nice,” Paul stated, "But shouldn’t we get on with racing?”
“Must we?” Gret pretended to complain.
“Let’s get on then,” Tali suggested, "We’ve got about a minute.”
Dang, I'd hoped for more.
 
We started a rotation but it was clear the girls wouldn’t be making a big contribution to our progress. At a minute we’d be in clear view of the following peloton, hopefully Mand and Ron can contain things – maybe even Josh if he didn’t get spat straight out the back. After what seemed an age we hit the crest and the feed zone came into view, phew, hope there’s flapjack in there this week.

Musettes were offered and collected, each redistributing as we passed the grandstands to where Dad was stationed. If he was surprised by Josh’s absence he didn’t show it.

“Keep it steady,” was all he offered.
Steady he says.

We returned to a fast rotation and unlike when Gret and Tal were in view last time round, the reduced distance back to the bunch actually worked for us keeping us hidden and less of a target. The slightly sticky orange flavoured bottle contents weren’t what I expected, more like weak Lucozade than squash. I wolfed my way through the half banana but took a little longer with the flapjack, with luck I should be energised for the last Hohe Acht ascent.

“Let’s rock and roll!” I enthused.

Gret’s strained expression didn’t show much enthusiasm for another lap, just how much longer can she – or Tali hang in? I checked out the other member of our party, he’s filled out from when we met in Switzerland and despite the efforts of the last few kilometres he still looked quite fresh. I'll tackle that later, for now we need to keep riding.

Maddy Bell © 11.03.17

 

When you watch the pro’s on telly or even just read the reports, the success rate of moves like today's is pretty small. Oh it’s not unheard of but how many times does the escape get caught on the last climb or even in sight of the finish? The problem is pretty much that the escapees run out of energy just as everyone else decides they haven’t got anything to lose by making a big effort.

"Gab,” Tal whispered as we approached the next incline.
"Yeah? You alright?”
"Ish, look we’ll do what we can but we’re both pretty much done.”

Well it’s not like it wasn’t expected but it drops our chances of success significantly – especially after having lost Josh so early. I guess that’s the way the dice rolls.

"Big effort into the climb?”
"No promises, Gab,” she allowed before moving forward ready to take a turn on the front.
"Problem?” Paul asked dropping back from his own pace setting effort.
"Nah, just the usual,” I allowed with a shrug, no point in putting seeds of doubt in Paul’s head.
 
Gret swapped my nearly empty bottle for her full one as Innerthausen led us down to Adenau for the third and final time, I stuffed another half energy bar down my gullet – as ready as I'll be. We swooped down the wide strip of tarmac still in a tight group, no puncture this time please. I started to get a bit edgy, pre effort nerves perhaps.

The girls played their part right up to the first ramp, Tal the first to crack, one second she was slapping the pedals round, the next she was gone. Gret managed a few metres more before sitting up, now it’s just the two of us – not quite the plan but hopefully the girls will provide some distraction for the bunch. Paul didn’t notice Gret’s disappearance at first, by the time he did we were already out of the saddle to maintain as much speed as possible on the climb.

As it levelled we returned to our saddles, I took a swig from a bidon.

"Just you and me now, eh Bondt?”
"Looks like,” I agreed.
"Your big friend would be handy about now, eh?”
No kidding.
"More leg, less mouth,” I suggested.

He inclined his head before returning attention to the job in hand, several more kilometres of climbing.
 
"Stay alert,” Josh mentioned to his team mates as the peloton dropped into Adenau, "Bound to be some chancer.”
"Surprised we’ve not seen Tal and Gret,” Mand observed, echoing Gab’s feed of a couple of minutes previous.
"Not sure if that’s good or bad,” Ron mentioned.
"How about another feint?” Mand suggested.
"Don’t look at me, I've nothing spare like,” Josh admitted.
"I'll do it,” Mand volunteered, "Pull their teeth a bit.”
“First ramp’d be best,” the Toon advised.
 
We weren’t exactly motoring up the slopes of Hohe Acht, oh not crawling but we were hovering a little above ten kph. Side by side, trading pedal stroke for pedal stroke, we rose through the trees. So far the neutral service was still with us, we should have thirty seconds at least, its return means the girls have lost ground rapidly.

Dad’s plan called for a minute at the summit – not that from the front there’s any way to really know the gap. It’s under ten kilometres to the finish line from the top, ten fairly flat but exposed kilometres. We really need each other at least up to the GP circuit, I can’t imagine no one in the main field will have a pop.
 
Tal watched Gab and Paul pull away from Gret, it looked like she’d simply stopped dead. Oh they’d get to the finish alright but this third ascent was already taking a mighty toll. She crawled up the incline, slowly overtaking her friend, was that voices, a grating of gears?

A quick glance behind and all hope of surviving went west, there, coming around the last corner, a growing mass of bobbing heads, the peloton. Oh well, it had been good while it lasted. She reached the even slower Gret.

"They’re coming, G.”
Gret, glassy eyed, just kept pedalling a slow cadence in her lowest gear too exhausted to comment.
 
The last ramp, almost a kilometre long and reaching ten percent more than once, slowly revealed itself, was our escape really only twenty K ago? Come on, Gabs, not far now. We rose as one and continued to match turns of the crank, the lanky youth towering over my diminutive form as the upward crawl continues.

"Bunch, last corner,” Paul gasped across.

I'd avoided looking back up to now but I couldn’t help glancing under my arm. Hmm, actually not so bad, they didn’t appear to be travelling any faster than us – oh we’d be in sight from the front but I reckon time wise we’re a good minute ahead. Not enough to start counting chickens but close to Dad’s plan.

"Effort from bend,” I huffed.

He gave a short nod and I returned to watching our shadows on the asphalt.
 
Mand’s ‘attack’ might’ve dulled a few legs but, Josh mused, enough? Gret and Tal had been swallowed and spat out in short order, Mand was just about hanging in, Ron was puffing a bit and as for himself, legs like foam bananas. Is that Gab up the road? If it is it looks like game over.
 
It seemed an eternity getting to the bend but there was method in waiting, a stretch of much shallower gradient. I sank back to the saddle pushing the Ergo paddle as I did so, no point in wasting energy over-revving. Hunching over the bars I forced the pedals round and as the speed started to rise, an up change kept the momentum going.

My companion matched my effort first alongside then offering a wheel to follow. We traded effort several times before the gradient started to bite again, depending on the bunch’s reaction to the ease in climbing effort our energy expenditure might’ve garnered a few extra seconds. The last pull is fairly straight, we’ll be back in sight all too soon, a tempting carrot for anyone with the legs.

The slope eased and the summit hove into view, yes!
 
I kicked a bit harder, temporarily breaking free of Innerthausen, oh yeah, it’s on! He was back with me by the time we started downhill and despite the burning in my and no doubt his thighs we hit time trial mode. From barely holding ten kph on the climb we were soon nudging forty using all the circuit width to get the best line.

All too soon we started on the Döttinger Höhe drag, conscious that we’ll be in view pretty much up to the GP circuit. Well we can do something about that although the service bike will give us away. Whatever, I angled towards the left hand kerb, at least we won’t be as obvious as riding up the middle of the tarmac.

Question now is how do I handle Innerthausen? So far he’s matched me at every move since our escape, uphill, downhill, rotation after rotation. I think I’ve got the upper hand if it comes to a sprint but dare I leave it to that? What we can’t afford to do is start mucking about, either of us.

We crested the climb, by the service bike’s continuing presence we still have over thirty seconds. There were more people around the grandstand / finish area this time – of course, the men’s events follow this afternoon.
"Go Gab!”
"Girl power!”
"Dig, dig!”
"Minute!”
The last was Dad, guess he’d timed us on from the crest, but a full minute, oh yeah! That single word buoyed my enthusiasm, I had to stop myself making a celebratory arm pump, after all we still have five kilometres to ride. Once again I contemplated my companion’s form.
 
Of course I wasn’t the only one thinking about the finale and I wasn’t the first to act either. The lankmeister hit the go button and stood on the pedals, accelerating forward, maybe not as fast as he’d like. I wasn’t quite on the back foot, I'd been contemplating something similar myself so I was able to follow his move with minimal delay.

Foiled once he wasn’t to be denied, I'd barely got my breath before he went again, sugar, this needs a new tactic. Instead of rushing up to him I took a more measured approach this time, if he wants to waste energy that's his choice, I've got a better use for my resources. He was clearly frustrated when my shadow gave my return away, I'm nothing if not stubborn in my determination to win.

We swooped around the far end of the circuit, I reckon he’s got one more attack in him and we’ve got three kilometres. Sit tight girl, don’t panic, you’ve got this. He was constantly checking where I was, hmm he favours his right shoulder, useful.

I took a swig from my bottle before expressing the rest of the contents on the road – hey, we can’t afford to lob them like the pro’s do. I checked the rest of my kit, tightened my shoes, adjusted the zip of my jersey, straightened my helmet, time to boogie!

“Oh bum!”
Paul swivelled his head to me, right side – just checking.
"Broken nail,” I grinned, vaguely indicating a digit.

There was some rolling of eyes and he returned his attention to riding.
 
Attempt number three wasn’t long in coming after that, no subterfuge just another out of saddle effort, shorter and less convincing than before. I followed once again more slowly, two more corners and the finishing straight, fifteen hundred metres. It’s not ideal that the last turn is right hand but that's how it is.

He tried for a long one of course, I stayed tight this time before flicking left as we took the bend. His glance right gave me the opening and I hit full gas.
 
You get a feel for these things and still fifty metres short of the line I sat up and checked behind. Paul had indeed thrown in the towel, I'd hoped for that but he was in danger of losing even second place as the bunch barrelled onto the straight behind him. No worry for me, I straightened my jersey and made a two arm victory salute, a grin plastered across my features.

I pulled over to the side and turned to watch the main gallop, Paul had been alerted to the danger but too late. A swamp of riders crossed the line, they’ll need a photo to sort any of the other places. Josh pulled up and we bumped fists.

"Nice going, Gab, thought we were gonna get yer on that last lap.”
"Ha, give her an inch,” Mand added joining us.
"Team work, guys,” I allowed, “where’re the others?”
“Ron was contesting,” Manda advised.
“Quite a few got tailed on that last lap man, apparently someone was still ahead,” Josh observed with a smile.

They might’ve lost contact but they provided the foundation of my win, everyone has contributed today.

The officials were keen to get our event off the track, the senior women’s event swept through in short order for their own final lap. I looked for Mum, I think I saw the rainbow jersey but I couldn’t say for sure, a couple of smaller groups followed through along with the last stragglers from the junior event.
 
"In third place, riding for Thuringen Radsport, Paul Innerthausen!” the MC enthused.

Yeah he claimed a podium place by a tyre, just dessert for his efforts.

"Second place, for Apollinaris, Veronike Grönberg!”

We shouted and cheered her onto the podium before the crowd calmed for the most important announcement.

“And completing an Apollinaris one two for the Gerolsteiner Junior Grand Prix, our very own, Gabrielle Bond!”

I made my way to the top step, shaking Paul’s hand on the way. The cheering was longer this time – hey I deserve it! Lower place trophies were presented then it was my turn, whoever the dignitary was shook my hand then presented me with the quite impressive Gerolstein Cup – big enough I needed assistance to do the victory pot waving.
 
Once the presentation was over we returned to the team ‘enclosure’ where Dad and Dieter made short work of the pack up while us riders made use of our new changing facility to lose our salt crusted gear.

“Only thing you haven’t got in here is a washing machine,” Tal observed as she waited to use the lav.
"Now there’s an idea,” Mand smirked, "The Apollinaris laundry.”
"Don’t give Dad ideas.”
No he’ll have one fitted before you can shout Daz!
 
The senior event? Well I'd like to say Mum won but she didn’t, no it was that Vos woman who claimed top spot in their gallop. Tina grabbed third so they weren’t empty handed, Mum kept out of trouble to grab tenth which she was quite content with. Now me, I would have had to throw everything in the pot.

Maddy Bell © 13.03.17

 

"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

 

I did have to spend fifteen minutes explaining to those not in the know a little of the history behind the wedding invite. I mean, you can’t just say we spent New Year with the Taxis, you have to go back to Analise’ wedding to fill in some of the gaps. Which of course raised as many questions as it provided answers – de Vreen and von Strechau were seen in mutual jollity at my discomfort – I'll get you two later.

It was after three when the ‘party’ broke up, the Luchows heading directly back to Cottbus, Dad taking the remainder in the camper. Yeah, Tali and Josh were taking the train north from Kӧln, they’d be home – well in Hamburg at least, about nine, Josh staying the night at the Schmidts.
Which left Mand, Mum and me to finish the clear-up.

"So you alright for the morning, Gab?”
"Think so, Tomas is taking us up about eight so we can get everything set up.”
"Me and your dad will come up about nine, Tom should arrive about half past.”
"You sure you don’t want to come, Mand?” I asked.
"Can’t, I've got school,” she complained.
"You got any exams?” Mum enquired.
"No, English tomorrow.”
"Well as your guardian I think you’d be better off revising at home than commuting for hours – I'll do you a note for Tuesday.”

Mand’s demeanour changed, Mandarella will go to the ball!
 
Josef was up a ladder when we arrived, he already had the name boards revealed and was busy affixing bunting around the gutters.

“I'll give you a hand in a minute,” Tomas suggested.
"We’ll get the Brötchen inside, Dad,” Con told him.
"Okay, so where do you want me, Jo?”
 
I stood watching the decorations being put up, this is real, isn’t it?

"You alright, Gab? You’re shivering.”
“’S a bit chilly. It’s actually happening isn’t it, Con?”
"Definitely, now grab that other tray of Brötchen.”
I hefted the tray of rolls from the back of the car, "Aren’t you nervous at all?”
"What for?”
"Well you know, our own business and everything?”
“I guess it is a bit exciting but it’s not like we’re doing it on our own is it?”

That’s true enough, the Thesing’s are bankrolling the whole thing, Dad’s not shy of getting involved and even Max has volunteered a time or two. Then we’ve recruited Kristin as our first employee – she lives locally, she’s available and it means Con and I can split the opening closing stuff between us. For today Nen’s helping too in case we’re busy.
 
I'm sure we’ll develop some sort of routine but this morning we spent ten minutes getting in each other’s way as we started machinery going, stowed bread, fetched supplies, opened the till and generally got ourselves ready.

"How’s it going, girls?” Con’s father enquired as I placed the first würst onto the griddle.
"All in hand,” Con enthused.
"Any chance of a couple of coffee’s?”
"You could do them yourself,” Con suggested.
"Such customer service,” he mock grumbled, "How’s this thing work?”
"Put a cup in and press the button for whatever,” I told him without taking my attention from the job at hand.

It might not be a big grand opening but that doesn’t mean attendees don’t get anything, by democratic vote that's a plate of the old favourite currywurst mit Pommes. There will be Sebenschuh wine, soft drinks or coffee to wash it down and Therese has made a cake. A party at ten in the morning. Of course you can’t conjure up fifty sausages and portions of Frites in seconds flat hence me getting the cooking started early.
 
“I've just seen Nena, we’ll make a start on the tables,” Con advised.
“’Kay,” I allowed.
"Morning!”
"Oh hi, Kristen, Gab’s got stuff inside,” Con told the help as she departed.
"Okay boss, what’s happening?”
"Morning, Kris, didn’t realise it was that time.”
“I'm a bit early, so what do you want me doing?”
"Erm, oh yeah, can you slice those batons, you know like at an angle?”
"There something to put it in?”
"Baskets on the shelf, napkins by the window.”
 
"Frikadel and a coffee.”
"We’re not open yet.”
"Dang, I missed breakfast too!”
I turned round, "Mum!”
"Wotcha, kiddo, everything under control?”
"Think so, me and Kris have it cracked in here.”
"Hi, Mrs Bond,” Kris called over.
"Food’s just about ready to go, just need to serve it up.”
"That what you’re wearing for the opening?”
"Er yeah?” I allowed.
"You didn’t bring anything to change into?” she pressed.
"Um,” what’s wrong with Capri's and my kiosk T shirt?
"Really, Gaby, I thought I'd brought you up better, it’s a good job someone was thinking this morning, I'll be back in a minute.”

Mum departed, leaving me staring into space.

Kris sniggered.
"You could be an ex employee,” I half heartedly suggested.
"Soz, Gab, but the look on your face, is she always like that?”
"Yeah,” I sighed, "From when I was little, don’t wear that, wear this. Good job she doesn’t know half the stuff that's in my wardrobe.”
"Mine too,” Kris smirked.
 
A couple of minutes later mater came in the back, well only door brandishing a frock in a dress cover.

"Here you go, I don’t know how you find anything in that wardrobe.”
Kris and I exchanged a look.
"Thanks, Mum.”
"Shoes and hose in the bag, I've just seen Tom arrive so scoot.”
My, "Yes Mum,” was to an empty space.
"You’d best get changed then,” Kris snickered.
"Can you take the Rotkohl and Sauerkraut out while I get Mum respectable.”
"Of course, boss lady.”

Have to give Mum her due, her choice from my wardrobe was bang on the money, a very fitted sleeveless number in pink with little white flowers that I bought for Steff’s birthday party. She’d been thorough, in the bag, besides my beige heels, was a pair of glossy hose, Wolford don’t you know, matching knickers and BH, my make up bag and in an envelope, Gran’s earrings and the matching necklace. I headed into my impromptu changing area, the store room.
 
"Where’s Gab? We need her out front now!” Con gasped out without drawing breath.
"Here,” I advised as I threaded the wire of my second earring through my lobe.
"Great,” she noted as she turned my direction, "Damn you, Bond.”
"Not my idea,” I defended.
"Her mum’s a right laugh,” Kristen added.
"Oh well,” Con sighed, "Too late now, come on, Gab, people to meet, hands to shake and stuff.”
"You okay with chopping the würst, Kris?”
“In the top, press the button and into the tray?”
"That’s the one.”
"Gab!” Con persisted.
“I'm coming!”
 
Being inside and then getting changed I'd missed what was going on outside. Gab’s Garden was packed, the guy from Ahr Zeitung, Freddy from the Tourist board, our families of course, The Angels, some of the Thesing’s business contacts, I'm guessing the guy with my Rents is our guest of honour, Mr Boonen. However the big surprise was presence of Gertie Schmidt, you remember, she of Rhein Abend fame – not just here but her camera crew too.

"Mingle!” Con prompted.
"Okay already.”

I spotted Dad waving at me, dapper in his best suit – you know the weddings and funerals thing. Here goes nothing.

"Here she is,” Mum enthused, "Tom, my daughter, Gabrielle.”
Really, Mum?
"Ah, the famous daughter of the famous mother,” Mr Boonen started with a smile, "Nice to meet you, Gabrielle.”
"Er Gaby please, Mr Boonen.”
"Call me, Tom.”
"Er thanks for doing this.”
"Makes a change from some supermarket in deepest Vlaenderen ,” he chuckled.
“I was just telling Tom about Saturday,” Mum put in.
“Very impressive, Gaby,” Tom noted.

Of course my face tried to clash with my hair and dress.

“It was mostly luck.”
"You make your own luck, Gaby, I saw you at Roubaix, very impressive and Dave tells me you’ve been on the top step regularly all season.”
"More than her mother,” Mum added.
I shrugged, “Just lucky I guess.”

We chatted for another couple of minutes – or maybe it was longer, he’s quite a charmer – if he wasn’t so old...

"Gabs, time!” Con called out.
 
"And it’s with great pleasure that I declare the Bridge Kiosk open for business, Gaby tells me that there’s currywurst coming out, I hope there’s plenty of mayo!”

There was a round of clapping and cheering – we’re open!

Tom’s speech had been well received by our select audience, a couple of anecdotes – you know the sort of thing, cafe tales, every cyclist has them, a funny aside and a bit of inserted information about the locality and our business. He might be serious on his bike but he has a lighter side too, he certainly had me chuckling with the chicken sausage.

It wasn’t quite a bun fight after that, bit more restrained but soon the distinctive aroma of Bratwurst, paprika sauce, Pommes. and coffee filled the air. As I was dressed posh I got out of serving – Con was volunteered by her mum to supervise the help – oops. Of course there were photos to be taken, interviews to be given, not just by me but by both the men’s and women’s current elite road cycling world champions – Tom and Mum that is.

"Great currywurst, Gaby,” Gertie Schmidt advised as she wiped piquant sauce from her mouth.
"Er thanks, our signature dish,” I suggested with a grin.
"You turn up in the most unexpected places, Gaby Bond, fitness courses, weddings, Weihnachts Markt and here now, a snack bar.”
"Never a dull moment, eh?” I suggested.
“I think you, young lady, will be keeping me in a job for some time to come.”
I shrugged, “I er try to please.”
"Don’t you ever do that, Gaby, you are unique, remember that, the fact you are a successful sportswoman and now businesswoman only adds to the mystery.”

The blush that Tom started earlier now burst forth in glorious technicolour.
 
Maddy Bell © 18.03.17

 
By twelve the excitement was pretty much over, Tom did a couple of interviews with Gertie and Ahr Zeitung before departing to rejoin his Quick Step team mates.

"Have to say,” Herr Bayermann, he of the Tourist office, mentioned, "I'm very impressed.”
"Er thanks, I guess the real hard work starts now.”
"I'm sure you’ll make a success of it, I've brought you a flyer dispenser if you are still up for it?”
"As long as it’s not too big, we haven’t much space.”
"Don’t worry, it’s only a small one, I'll go fetch it.”

He left on his errand.

"Hey, Gabs!” Pia exclaimed.
"Cool opening,” Steff opined.
"Er thanks.”
"There any more Pommes?” Bridg enquired.
"Bridg!” we all chorused.
"What? I missed breakfast.”
"So how come you’re all dressed up and Connie’s not?” Steff asked.
"Mum,” I stated, "She raided my closets and pretty much forced me to change.”
"You certainly look like a businesswoman.” P observed.
“’Scuse me a mo,” I spotted Freddy on his way back, I headed to meet him at the kiosk.

 
It was indeed only a small dispenser, just a half dozen slots for flyers, it fit nicely on the narrow customer counter.

"I usually come round about once a month to refill but if you need more just ring the office and we’ll get extras out to you.”
"Okay.”
"Well I'd best get on, meeting with the regional board over in Mayen.”

 
By the time I was done with Freddy the girls had departed leaving just the Thesing’s and the Bond household lingering.

"I'd best get changed.”
"Unless you plan on not doing anything the rest of the day,” Con snided.
"I did do all the frying earlier,” I pointed out, turning on my heel and strutting away. Just because she missed dressing up, it’s not like it was my idea.

 
"Alright Boss?” Kris asked.
I took a deep breath, "Yeah, I'll get changed and give you a hand.”
"Went alright,” she called after me.
"Yeah,” I replied as I prepared to turn the stockroom into a changing facility once more.
"I never expected the TV to be here.”
"I was surprised too,” I admitted shimmying out of my frock.
"You want coffee?”
"Milchkaffee please.”

I didn’t do a full redress this time, I left my hose and posh undies on which sped things up, shirt on, Capri’s pulled on and feet in trainers – bit weird with hose on but who’s to see?

"We’re off now, kiddo,” Dad advised poking his head around the door as I emerged from my boudoir.
“’Kay, can you take my dress and stuff with you.”
"Sure, you home for dinner?”
I retrieved the various bags, "No, I'll go straight to cheer, could do with a lift later,” I hinted.
"I guess we can manage that, later then.”
"Bye, Dad.”

 
Con got over her snit, well there wasn’t much choice really as we had a steady flow of customers. Not a great long queue or anything but enough to keep us busy – I'm guessing a lot of locals were curious, but there were a few holidaymakers too including at one point, a dozen elderly Dutch trekkers with their over equipped bikes lining Dad’s fence. Things were simplified as we’d settled on a more basic menu today, from tomorrow Con’s Kabin will be offering cake and hot pies too!

"Later,” Kristin told us with a wave.
"Thanks, Kris,” Con replied as the hired help departed.
"Sorry about the dress thing, Con.”
"You could’ve said before.”
"Mum sprung it on me, honest I didn’t know till they got here and you know what she’s like.”
"I felt like the hired help,” she admitted.
"Soz, you want a choccy before we go?”
"Go on then.”

I started the drinks as my BF started the job of cashing up.

"Went well though,” I suggested.
"Yeah,” she agreed, "Gertie Schmidt was a surprise.”
"No kidding, cream?”
"What do you think, Gaby Bond?”
I squirted a good dose onto the top of the beverage and gave it a dust of cocoa powder, "There goes.”
"Thanks, think the rents were pleased.”
"Hope so,” I allowed.
"Guess there’s no turning back now.”
"So how much then?”
"Er,” she paused to read the till slip, "One seventy nine and fifty cents.”
"Is that good? doesn’t sound much.”
She shrugged, "Covers the wages at least.”

 
"Good session everyone,” I told the girls of the All Star Cheer.

Hannah has got us a gig at the Adenau Family Fest in a couple of weeks so we’d spent most of the session deciding what we should do. Oh it’s nothing as simple as just doing our competition set, for starters it’s outside at the football club – you remember I went with the girls last year or was that the year before? Anyhow, after our recent success the girls were really enthused.

"Before you go,” I went on, "Some of you might know that we’ve reopened the Bridge Kiosk.”

There were some giggles and eye rolling.

"Well anyway, I just wanted to say, you can have ten percent discount if you show your Tanzklub card.”
"Whoo!”
"Nice one!”
"That include me, Boss,” Kris suggested.
My turn for eye rolling, "You already get discount,” one hundred percent discount.

 
"That’s quite a generous offer, Gab,” Han opined as we tidied up.
"It’s not that much really, we need to get some customers to make it work.”
"Is this for everyone in the Klub?”
I shrugged, "Don’t see why not, more the merrier.”

In truth I hadn’t thought beyond Cheer and Garde when I'd suggested it to Con earlier but including the whole club makes sense, I'm sure Han said there’s like a couple of hundred members across the various styles.

"I'll put a notice on the board if you like,” she offered.
"That’d be cool, hang on, I've got a menu in my bag,” I rooted in amongst the accumulation of make-up, sanitary products and junk that seem to populate my ever present shoulder bag, "Here we go,” I passed her several of our flyers.

 
"I'm kerknackered,” I mentioned sliding into the A’s passenger seat.
"Bet she’s not too tired for pizza,” Mand stage whispered to Pia as they climbed in behind.
“Pizza?”
"Ordered,” Dad confirmed as waited to pull onto the main road.

Oh yeah, I had some currywurst earlier but I pretty much forgot to eat the rest of the day except for nicking a couple of fries – in the cause of quality control. My stomach decided to perform the loudest rumble ever just at the mention of Italian flatbread.

"Gab!”

 
"So how was the rest of the day?” Mum prompted as I started stuffing my face with cheese and pepperoni.
“’Kay,” I managed savouring my mouthful of baked delight.
"Well tell us more then.”
I finished the contents of my mouth before replying, "Con was a bit miffed about the dress but like we took nearly two hundred euros.”
"Sounds okay.”
"We were quite busy, had a load of Trekker’s stop but they only had coffee.”
"Early days yet, kiddo,” Dad noted.
"I guess,” I agreed before ploughing back into my slice of pepperoni delight.

 
I slept like a log, when the alarm went off I batted it across the room – not good as it was still jangling so I had to get up anyway. So today is the first proper day at the kiosk, I've drawn early shift as I still need to get my training in. I say early, we’re opening at half eight through to five thirty, Con will start at nine thirty then I finish at four thirty. For now at least Kris will do twelve to closing so in theory we should get lunch.

"You going on the Schauff?” Dad enquired as I buttered my toast.
"Express today, have to collect the till money too, oh sugar, I forgot the bread order last night.”

Day two and I've already mucked up.

 
"So?” Dad prompted as I climbed into the Hymer – yeah I know but he offered.
"They already forecast, Tomas is just fetching them now.”
"I can’t do this every day.”
"I know, thanks, Daddy,” bit of flannel never hurts does it, "I'd best let him in.”

I went back to the door in time to greet my patron bearing four trays of Brötchen, pies and a selection of cakes.

"Where do you want them?”
"Er just slide them in,” I'll get Dad to help unload at the kiosk.
"Are you going to be alright this morning?” Tomas asked as he deposited the trays.
"Soon find out,” I pointed out.
"You’ve got the shop number.”
"On speed dial.”
"Well good luck then.”
"Thanks.”

 
I was quite thankful that Dad volunteered the taxi bit, not for the bread delivery – that just saved Tomas a trip. No, whilst I got things started inside he unlocked and unstacked the garden furniture which I admit is a bit big and heavy for me.

"Here you go,” I passed him a coffee.
"Cheers, kiddo, so you okay now?”
"All set to go.”
"I'll finish this and get off, George has organised some vinyls for the Hymer.”
"Nothing too gross I hope.”
"I'm sure it’ll be subtle, ot oh, looks like your first customer, I'll see you later.”
He kissed me on the forehead before propelling me back to the kiosk.

 
Maddy Bell © 20.03.17

 
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

 

"What’s this?” I enquired, looking at the unmarked video cassette Dad handed to me.
"Put it in and see,” he suggested.
To be honest, after work and an intense training ride the last thing I wanted was to watch one of Dad’s seemingly endless supply of cycling tapes.
"Whatever.”
"What we watching?” Mand asked dropping onto the sofa before curling her legs up under her.
"Dunno, someone’s not saying,” I offered pausing to start the machine before joining her on the couch.
The machine clunked and whirred before the screen filled with a rolling image before sound kicked in and things settled.
"Over to the Ahrtal where we join Gertie.”
"Hello Michael and welcome to Altenahr where we join some special guests for the opening of a new snack bar.”
"Hey that’s me!” Mand stated.
And indeed there we all were, the Bond household, Thesing’s, Tom and the other assorted guests. Somehow the cameraman gave it that look, you know, sort of bucolic, perfect world, not quite soft focus but most definitely idealistic.
"The sign looks good,” Dad mentioned.
"Er yeah,” I agreed.
We sat through Gertie talking with Mum and Tom, the opening of course and eating currywurst.
"And here’s the young lady responsible, sixteen year old Gaby Bond, hello again, Gaby.”
"Hello, Gertie,” I grinned from the screen – talk about cringe worthy!
The ‘interview’ continued, did I really say that? Oh my god, I sound like a right bimbo, my voice isn’t really that squeaky is it?
"Well good luck, Gaby.”
"Thanks, Gertie,” I grinned.
The shot cut back to Gertie, "Back to you in the studio, Michael,”
"It looks like you’re having a good time, Gertie?”
"I am, they are so welcoming here in the Ahrtal, I think I'll get some more of that delicious currywurst!”
"Well someone’s having fun in the sun, so, Sema, what’s in store for us weather wise tomorrow?”
"You can turn it off now,” Dad suggested.

 
The only change on Wednesday was the swap of start times and Thursday was almost a carbon copy of Tuesday – even to Dad giving me a ride up. As the days have gone by we’ve fallen into more of a routine, we even seem to have a couple of regular customers. Friday however was already shaping up to be different.

"Chuck us the bin keys,” I requested at the window.
"They’re not due yet,” Con mentioned.
"I know, want to park my bike in there.”
"What for?”
"I'm on my training bike.”

It was only then that my BF actually raised her nose from her magazine to see me stood in my cycling togs.

"You have brought something else to wear?”
"Duh!” I dropped my rucky onto the serving ledge, “Keys?”
"Er right, hang on.”

 
"So why the racing bike?” Con asked a few minutes later as I changed in the stock room.
"Well,” I started, tugging my t shirt into place, "I was a bit late and the Schauff isn’t exactly made for speed.”
"Never usually bothers you.”

To be honest the real punch had been a near repeat of Tuesday’s tunnel descent incident yesterday afternoon. My mind had been on getting home quickly as I was a bit late leaving and I ended up making an emergency detour across the Tanzklub car park, ending up outside the Freiwillig Fire station next door. Definitely a brown knicker moment.

"Yeah, well I thought it would be more practical anyhow.”
"I guess it is a haul up to the tunnel,” she allowed.
"Stick us a Milchkaffee on,” I requested, it would keep her occupied while I swapped bibs for knickers and the shorts I'd brought up.

I hung my cycling gear up, slipped into my trainers and joined Con in the ‘kitchen’.

"So what’s new?”

 
"Thanks,” I allowed taking the returning crockery from the last of Dutch trekkers.
It’s not as sunny today, it is quite warm but instead of blue sky there’s a covering of grey cloud, just occasional breaks allowing the sun’s full power to reach the ground. Not that it’s put off the visitors, I guess if you are on holiday you make do anyhow, even if it’s wet.

The lawnmower like putt, putt of a Mofa sounded nearby before making a last revving noise and stopping, hmm have to get my permit – now that really would be good for getting to work. I headed into the back with the crockery, there's probably a load by now.

"Gab here, Con?”
"Gab!” Con yelled.
"You don’t have to shout,” I told her as I returned from the dishwasher, "Oh, Max, what do you want?”
“Frikadel?”
"With pommes?”
"Er best not, you got any Coke®?”

I set to with the order, deftly slicing the Brötchen open as the patty warmed.

"There you go, three fifty.”
"Don’t be daft, Gab,” Con interrupted, "On the house, Max,” she stated handing him a bottle of Coke®.
"Er thanks,” Max offered, "You got time to talk, Gab?”
"Go on, Gab,” Con instructed,” Kris’ll be here in a mo.”
"A, a, a.”
"Here,” she pushed a bottle of pop into my hand and hustled me towards the door.
"Con,” I complained.
"Go!” she insisted.

 
What’s a girl to do? With a shrug I walked around the building and joined Max at one of the tables.

"Hmm, ‘ood ‘ikadel.”
"You don’t have to spray it.”
He wiped his mouth, "Sorry.”
"So what do you want?”

He was already munching again so I took a slug of lemonade while I waited.

"You doing anything tomorrow?”
"Apart from working here all day like?”
"In the evening,” he refined.
"Recovering?” I suggested.
"Oh,” he deflated a little, “Mum wondered if you’d come to dinner?”
"Your mum or you?”
"Er,” he managed with a bit of a blush.
"It’s not anyone’s birthday or anything?”

Last time we got an invite it turned out to be his Gran’s birthday which was a right barrel of laughs – not.

"Nothing like that,” he quickly shot back, “just thought you might like a relaxing evening, you’ve had quite a busy week with the opening and stuff.”
"Your Gran gonna be there?”
"No you’re safe, she’s down in Rothenburg with my aunt this week.”
I let out a small sigh, "What time?”
"Seven?” he suggested with something of a grin.
"Seven it is, look, I should get back to work.”

 
"So?” Con prompted when I returned to the kiosk.
"What?”
"Duh!” she indicated the youth sat outside.
"What?” I repeated.
"Well what did he want?”
"What makes you think he wanted anything?”
"Gab, it’s me,” she stated, "So spill.”
"Oo, gossip?” Kris put in having sorted out the bin emptying.
"Someone's boyfriend is outside,” Con mentioned.
"He’s not my boyfriend,” I stated through gritted teeth.
"So come on, missy, what did he want?”
"We need to know,” Kris added.

That’s all I need, two of them haranguing me.

 
"Coffee please a-and that lemon?” Hen enquired pointing into the cake cabinet.
"Uh huh,” I agreed.
"Yeah a slice of that please.”
"No work today?”
"Day off, thought I'd try getting some sponsors for the RTF.”

Kris brought the coffee over almost as I finished plating the torte.

"Any luck?”
"The bank are sponsoring the numbers and signs and we’re getting a discount from the Lidl down in Neuenahr.”
"Sounds good.”
"Well it’s a start, still looking for food stops, one of the regulars has pulled out and another has closed so we need a couple of new ones.”
"Bummer.”
"Yeah,” he agreed.
"So where’s this thing go?”
"The long one goes across to Gerolstein then there’s a short one to Műnstereifel and the mid one misses the long Gerolstein loop.”
"Hard core, sounds like one of the seniors training rides. So like how many ride?”
"We had about two hundred last year.”
"That’s quite a few.”

Small beer compared to that one we rode over at Gret’s, there were like thousands there, what was it again? Spree something, Spreewald, that's it. Mind you, that was almost dead flat.

"We can cope with a few more but you have to have parking and stuff which can restrict things.”
"So where do you need these feed things?”
"Ones over in Blankenburg, the other one’s like the HQ, we used to use Der Mühle just on the Munster road.”
"That place that burnt down?”
"Yeah.”
"How about here? there’s loads of parking over the road.”
"You serious?”
“’Course.”
"I'll need to talk to the rest of the committee, but that’d be brilliant if you could.”
“Let us know what you need.”
"Will do.”

 
"What’ve you been plotting?” Con asked.
"Nothing, well not really.”
"Gab!”
"Well I sort of volunteered us to be a checkpoint thingy for the Weilersport’s RTF.”
"Their what?”
"Well it’s a sort of long day ride thing, like two hundred K, they go round a route collecting stamps on a card and get a certificate for finishing.”
"I'll let you break it to Dad.”

Sugar, me and my big mouth.

 
Maddy Bell © 27.03.17

 

"See you tomorrow,” Kris called over.
"Yeah, nite, Kris.”

I checked the lock again before swinging a leg over the bike. A quick adjustment of the rucky straps and I was ready. I clicked my left foot in before using the kiosk to balance against to fix the other foot to its pedal, quick check for traffic, show off hop off the curb then I was away across the bridge. I passed Kris along by the florist, whizzing through the narrow defile and onto the valley road.

I quickly gained speed, shooting through the tunnel and down towards the Tanzklub, no fear of excess speed this evening, both a better handling bike and confidence in the brakes keeping my speed higher. Yeah, this is it, how I like my riding, fast and twisty. The speed stayed high all the way down to Rech from where I pretty much freewheeled the last stretch back to the house.

"I'm home.”
"Lounge,” came Pater’s reply.
I dropped my bag by the stairs and poked my head into the sitting room, "Wotcha.”
"You not been to the kiosk?”
"Yeah,” I replied with some confusion, "Why?”
"Your bike gear?”
"Oh right, it’s quicker on the road bike, specially up into Altenahr.”
"You put it safe?”
"Locked in the bin thing.”
"Hmm.”

 
"Da-ad,” I wheedled as I waited for my lift up to Garde.
"What kiddo?”
"You know tomorrow night?”
"What about it?”
"Is it alright if I go out?”
"Out where? You are racing Sunday.”
"Up to Max’s, I'm invited for dinner.”
"No doubt you’ve already accepted?”
"I can easily cancel,” I offered.
"I guess it’s okay, no alcohol though.”
"No, Dad.”
"I mean it, Gaby, just because your friends drink doesn’t mean you should, especially when you’ve got a race.”
"Yes, Dad.”
The tinny sound of Hannah’s horn sounded outside, "See you later!”
"Ring if you need a lift.”

 
"So what’re you wearing?” Con enquired, stacking the contents of the dishwasher tray back on the shelves.
"Wearing?”
"Gab,” she warned.

What am I wearing? A question I've been giving quite some thought to since yesterday. I don’t want to go too formal but on the other hand too casual would be bad too – oh I know girls can get away with more than lads but even I have standards. No, it’ll have to be a frock of some sort, something that covers my ‘assets’ and doesn’t expose too much leg either.

"I dunno.”
"You must have some idea.”
"Not really.”
"You should go in that Goth gear, that’d surprise them,” she snorted.
"Not gonna happen, I wouldn’t get out of the house.”
"Guess not, what about your prom dress?”
"Might work,” I mused, mind you it’s a bit fussy for a ‘family’ dinner.
"Or how about the pink flowers?”
"Maybe,” yeah, a definite maybe.

I turned the sizzling würst.

"I wish I could twist Dad round like you can,” Con stated changing the subject.
"Eh?”
"The Rad thingy, if it’d been me he’d of said no but like he barely flinched when you told him.”
"You think?”
"I know.”
"Honestly, Con, I don’t think that’s true.”
"No, hear me out,” she persisted, "It’s not just dad, you’re just too cute to say no to.”
"I'm not cute!”
"Deny it all you like, girl, you are the epitome of cute, if someone was describing cute you would be it.”
"She’s right, boss lady,” Kris opined having returned from wiping down the garden furniture.
"Not you too,” I moaned.
"Hey, don’t knock it, I'd kill to be called cute.”
"You’re hardly ugly,” I pointed out.
"I've got a big nose and freckles, cute I'm not,” she persisted, "You on the other hand, I bet you never even had a spot.”
"Had one once,” I think.
"One,” she threw her hands skyward in exasperation, "I spend half my allowance on getting rid of the things.”
"Guess I'm just lucky,” I proposed.
"Cute!” they both chorused.

 
Saturday we’re only open until three, well most of the local shops close at one so there’s not really that many people about. Herr Thesing brought us up this morning but it’s the Express back down so after locking up we headed over to the bahnhof. Just in time as it happens, the level crossing alarm was sounding as we reached the old building to join the assorted holiday makers awaiting the down train.
Experience and a cheeky bit of manoeuvring got us a pair of seats.

“Phew, thought we’d be standing.”
"It’s the cute card,” Con stated.
"Will you give over with the cute stuff,” I grumped.
"Tickets, tickets from Altenahr,” Myleen’s voice requested from behind us.
We held out our passes, "Hi, Myleen.”
"Well if it’s not the valley’s cutest snack bar owners, long time no see.”
"Yeah, been busy,” Con noted.
"I'll have to pop in and see what all the fuss is about,” our conductor mentioned.
"Fuss?” I asked, curious despite myself.
"The talk of the passengers this week, the Imbiss by the bridge and the cute staff.”

Grrrr!

"Maybe you should wear one of those Moslem things so they can’t see you, Gab,” Con chuckled.
"Did I say something wrong?” Myleen asked.
"No,” Con replied, "We were discussing Gab’s cuteness earlier, of course she denies having any.”
"Which makes her even cuter!” Myleen proposed.
"I am here, guys,” I pointed out feeling myself start to colour up.
"Well I'd best do some work, none of the visitors know what they need.”
"Come and see us at the kiosk,” Con invited.
"I will, tschuss.”
"Tschuss!” we both replied.

 
"I take it you’ll want a lift later?” Dad enquired.
"Er please.”
"We’ll drop you off when we go then.”
"Go? We?”
"Well you don’t think I'm letting Mand cook do you?”
"No?” so okay, she’s not exactly cordon bleu but she makes mean toast.
"No, so we’re eating at the Stube, we can drop you off and pick you up after.”
Talk about cramping your style, "I don’t know when we’ll be done and I'm sure Gloria or Wilhelm will bring me home.” or even Max on his Mofa!
"We’ll see.”
 
"You still not ready?” Mand enquired from my doorway.
"I don’t know which one’ll be best,” I sighed looking at the pile of frocks on my bed.
So far I've changed six times and changed my mind each time, too long, too frumpy, too revealing.
"Let’s see,” she came all the way into the eyrie, "Okay, so date with the parents, so something for Max but nothing slutty for the ‘rents,” she went through the stack of stuff mumbling and discounting as she worked.

It’s not cold but stood there in just a skimpy set of lingerie I was starting to get goose bumps.

"Here!” Mand stated thrusting a hanger at me, "Hair up, dangly earrings, pair of heels, cute as ninepence.”
if I hear that word once more!

The dress was of course the first one I pulled out, the pink flowers that Con suggested earlier.
 

Dad dropped me outside of Schloss Rech, well the Hymer is hardly the most manoeuvrable of vehicles and the gateway isn’t exactly big. It was a bit of a sod climbing down in my heels and I felt a bit of a narna stood in down town Rech in a posh frock, hair up and my earrings swaying gently in the breeze. Oh well.

So anyway I tottered my way into the courtyard and followed the flat slabbed path around the edge to the door used by the family on a daily basis. I rang the bell and moments later the sounds of hurrying teenager could be heard approaching.

I stepped back as the door swung open, "Hi, Gab!”
"Er hi, Max.”
"Wow, you look well cute,” he enthused.
"If you use that word once more tonight we’re done,” I warned.
"Noted, you do look nice though.”
"Thanks,” I allowed, "You don’t look so grubby.”
Well he doesn’t, maybe a little overdressed for eating at home but definitely kissable.
"That Gaby?” a voice requested from up above.
"Yes, Mum,” Max called back up.
"I'll be down in a minute then we can go.”
"Go?”
"To the restaurant,” his face dropped, "You thought we were eating at home?”
"Er yeah, you sort of forgot to mention a restaurant.”
"It’s only our place,” he volunteered, "Dad’s doing you something special.”
"Right,” Gloria von Strechau, wearing a fifties inspired frock, started as she arrived from the upper levels of the Schloss, "Let’s pop over shall we?”
"Er for you,” I presented Max’s mum with the gift wrapped box, we always have a supply at home; it’s only polite to take something if you’re invited out for dinner after all.
"Thank you, Gaby, no doubt as delicious as you look tonight,” she beamed.
"Um, thanks.”
"Come on then, Max?”
"Mother,” he sighed, closing the door before offering an arm to each of us for the short walk back across the courtyard to the gatehouse, home to the Baron’s somewhat exclusive restaurant.

Maddy Bell © 28.03.17

 
I'm pretty sure I've told you about the Baron’s restaurant before, we’ve eaten here a couple of times, my sister has even been known to work here. Unlike the Sebenschuh’s Stube just up the road, the Schloss is mostly about offering new world cuisine to its customers. The Baron isn’t into the whole food as art thing either – oh it looks good on the plate but you get a proper serving, real world portions so whilst it’s not cheap eating here, you do at least feel fed afterwards.

We entered the ‘atmospheric’ interior, read dark, by the low buzz it sounded pretty busy.

"Ah, you’re here,” Wilhelm greeted as he headed towards us, "Gaby, nice to see you again.”
"Er thanks and you.”
"Come, come, we’re over in the corner,” he enthused.

My eyes finally adjusted to the low light and my first impression was confirmed, pretty much all the tables were occupied by diners, we were the subject of some attention – I guess even if you can afford the Baron’s prices dining with the ‘landed classes’ is something you can’t exactly buy. At the table Max did the chair business for me while his dad did Gloria.

"Right, I'll just sort some drinks and I'll join you.”

 
Sorry Dad, well I could hardly say no when Wilhelm poured me a glass of wine could I?

"Welcome to the wonderful world of catering, Gaby,” the Baron proposed.
"A snack bar is hardly in the same world as this place, Sir.”
"We’ve told you before, it’s Wilhelm and Gloria, and I beg to differ, your kiosk is very much like the restaurant. You provide a service, food and drink, somewhere for people to meet and talk, the clientele might be different but you are just as valid.”
"They come to the kiosk for quick and cheap – we’re not having currywurst for dinner are we?”

Well that attracted some universal mirth. I sipped at my wine, keep it slow, Gab, you don’t want it going to your head.

"So erm, what are we eating?” I enquired.
"Yes, Willy, what are we eating, you’ve been avoiding saying all day,” Gloria added.
"Well to honour our guest I thought we’d have English.”
"Dad,” Max groaned.
"Perhaps Gaby has enough English food at home,” Gloria put in.

Wilhelm looked slightly crestfallen.

"It’s fine, honest we don’t do that much English at home, the odd roast when Mum’s home, so what’re we having?”
"Well we’ve got the Oxtail soup to start then steak and kidney pudding and your sister’s summer pudding with vanilla sauce .”
"Whoa, now that’s top stuff, not had any of that for ages,” I enthused.

As if on cue, Anton, the head waiter guy arrived with our soup.

 
I'm not a great lover of oxtail, it’s often a bit rich for my taste but Wilhelm’s version wasn’t too bad if a mite salty. I wouldn’t’ve minded some bread with it but the German’s don’t seem to go for that like the Brits do. Not sure Gloria was particularly keen, Max, well he’ll eat anything and Wilhelm, I guess he’d made it to his taste anyhow.

"How am I doing?” von Strechau senior requested as we waited for the next course.
"Er.”
"Truth now,” Gloria told me.
"Well it was maybe a bit salty?”
"Pah, I thought so too,” he admitted, "It seemed a little bland.”
"I think Mum puts some relish in,” I suggested.
"The Worcester sauce?”
"Er no, Hendo’s , it’s like special stuff from Sheffield.”
"That the brown stuff we had on the potato and meat pie the other week, Gab?” Max enquired.

What could be more North Midlands than meat and tatty pie with Hendo’s, classic?

"Uh huh,” I confirmed, "We’ve usually got some indoors. I'll check if you like?”
"That would be excellent,” Wilhelm grinned.

 
Steak and kidney pud isn’t really summer food but I wasn’t about to complain – it’s one of my favourites. I prefer the suet to be ‘wet’, often in restaurants it’s too dry, almost like heavy pastry, when it arrived at table I was delighted to see it was at my preferred end of the range. He’d cooked it very traditionally, steamed in cloth which added to the excitement of its arrival.

Proper mash, peas, carrots – hmm, he’d even managed a passable gravy.

"More wine, Gab?” Max offered.
"Could I get lemonade instead?” Well wine doesn’t really go with S & K pudding does it?
"Coming up,” he advised making to get up.
"Stay,” the Baron instructed signalling instead for Anton to attend.

I took my time eating, concentrating on the pudding and with the promise of a real pudding to follow I finished up with some mash still on the plate. A rare happening indeed!

"Good?”
"Good,” I agreed, sitting back into my chair to ease my stomach
"Not sure where you put it, young lady,” Gloria opined, her own plate retaining a significant part of her meal.
"I've not eaten since breakfast.” Apart from a slice of Schwarzwald with my coffee at lunchtime but that doesn’t count, does it?

 
By mutual consent we paused before desert. Of course it’s a bit weird when you’re with someone’s parents, stuff you maybe would’ve talked about are out so it can get a bit stilted.
"We’ve got your rocks from the Bank, Gaby,” Gloria advised.
"Rocks?”
"Your necklace and earrings dear,” she explained.
"Er right, um thank you.”

The Baron had of course excused himself temporarily to play ‘mine host’ with his paying customers, I think to avoid this awkwardness.

"Well we must look our best, eh?” Gloria pursued.
"Er yes,” I agreed, suddenly self conscious of my appearance, especially my candyfloss pink hair.
"So where’re you racing tomorrow?” Max enquired.

Good question, I wasn’t really listening when Dad was on about it earlier.

"Some sort of Chipper near Düsseldorf.”
"Chipper?” Gloria queried.
"Erm, it’s sort of like a local race, the prizes are usually donated by local shops and stuff, back in England that could be like the local takeaway, um chip shop, so you could win like fish and chips.”
"Or currywurst?” Max offered.
"Er yeah, that sort of thing,” I agreed.
"Interesting idea,” Gloria allowed.
"They’re usually hotly contested, very aggressive.”
"You sure that's wise, with the wedding coming up?”
"No one wants to get hurt,” I pointed out, "It’ll be fine.”

 
The summer pudding was pretty good, the custard was a bit poor mind, pretty thin and anaemic – certainly not good ole Birds® . I forced it all down, well waste not want not, stuffed indeed.

"I don’t know how the English eat like this all the time.” Gloria stated.
"No starter,” I suggested, "Most people only have two courses.”
"It would help,” Wilhelm agreed sagely.
"I like it,” Max supplied.
"But you eat anything dear,” his mum noted.
"Not keen on Sushi.”
"Me either,” I agreed recalling some of what I sampled in Japan last year.
"Well there won’t be any arguing over that when you get married then,” Wilhelm offered.

Did he just say what I think he did?

"Er, you want to go for a walk?” Max suggested hurriedly.
"Um, okay.”

 
We started walking up the village, the Schloss is more like a manor house than a castle in the middle of the village, anyway it was still light enough to see easily. Not that I was exactly shod for walking, ten centimetre heels might be okay on the flat but on a less than perfect country lane going uphill – well I kept a tight grip on Max’s arm.

"Sorry about that,” Max mentioned after we’d put some distance between us and his home.
"Did he really say that?”
“’Fraid so.”
"Where’d he get that idea from?”
"Probably Gran, you know what she’s like.”

Don’t I, manipulative to say the least.

"It wouldn’t be so bad would it?” he pursued.
"No offense, Max but I'm not marrying anyone.”
"Ever?”
"Not on my to do list.”
"What about us?”
"What about us?”
"Well you know, us.”
"Never said kissing was out,” I told him, "Come here.”
"Hmmph!”

I didn’t give him a chance to avoid my lip lock. Marry, flippin’ daft sods.

 
We had moved to a bench after a few minutes, we snogged enthusiastically for quite a while.

"We should get back,” Max suggested.
"Do we have to? Just a bit longer,” I whined.
"Go on then.”

It was dark, properly dark by the time we started back towards the Schloss, the downhill route not improved by the lack of street lighting in the village. I needed to hold onto Max even more in this direction but eventually we reached the gateway and giggled our way inside.

 
"Ah, there you are,” Gloria observed when we reached the family room.
"Yes, mother.”
"So, Stuttgart Gaby, we’ll pick you up about two on Tuesday afternoon, we should be there in plenty of time for the breakfast.”
"Er okay, dress?”
"Oh it’s only family dear, nothing too fussy of course.”
So quite formal then, maybe I'll ring Soph and see what she’s wearing.
"Okay.”
"You’ll need a long formal for Wednesday of course.”
"Of course.”
"And, Gaby dear.”
"Yes?”
"You’d best sort out your lipstick before I take you home and, Max, that colour doesn’t suit you.”

Talk about mortified, there’s one thing parental units knowing you’re snogging but to have them rub it in – well I must’ve looked like a pink stick with flowers stuck on.

 
Maddy Bell © 28.03.17

 
I was still suffering from acute embarrassment when Gloria dropped me off at home a while later.

"Two o'clock,” she reminded as I climbed down from her Cayenne.
“I'll be ready,” I confirmed, "Er thanks for the meal.”
"Our pleasure, Gaby, glad you enjoyed the evening.”
Was there a hint of merriment there?
"Er tschuss,” I started closing the door.
"Good night – oh, don’t forget your clutch.”
Oops, I scooped up my bag, "Nite.”

She waited until I had the door open before gunning the Porsche away back towards Rech.
 
"Anyone want a drink?” I called through as I swapped heels for slippers.
A moment later Mand appeared, “I'll make them.”
“’Kay.”
"So, spill,” she demanded as she filled the water boiling device.
"Nothing to tell.”
"Come off it, Gab, a whole evening with Max.”
"And his parents and a restaurant full of other people,” I countered, "And nothing was gonna happen anyway.”
She snorted at that, "And I'm a Dutchman.”
"Think that was your grandfather.”
"Ha de har.”
I think I put her off the trail.
 
"So where’s this race?” I enquired blearily as we made our way past Bonn.
Dad retrieved his clipboard and passed it over, "Second sheet.”
I flipped the paper over, "Schlosspark Benrath*, sounds a bit posh?”
"They’ve got some sort of community festival on.”
"A step up from up and down the straight at Crystal Palace,” Mand suggested.
"Or windswept airfields,” I proffered.
"Ridden a few of them,” Mand agreed.
"Well Angela reckons this place is mostly trees,” Dad told us.
 
By the time Dad found a spot to park the Hymer, we couldn’t get in the event car park due to the height limit, it was rolling on ten thirty. A cloudburst as we drove the twenty K from Mettmann left the ground wet but already blue was replacing the grey, the lake in front of the Schloss twinkling as the light breeze tickled the water’s surface. Kiddy rides were preparing for the day to one side, what looked like a sort of craft fair filling the space between the two wings of the Schloss, actually separate buildings.

"Go sign in, it says the HQ is in the Schloss. I'll get the bikes ready,” Dad proposed.
“’Kay,” I agreed.
The three of us followed the path around to the right of the pond to where a wide sandy area led towards the activity.
"Been here before?” Mand asked.
"Not me.”
"A few times,” Ron supplied, "We’ve been to the flower show a few times.”

I spotted a sign proclaiming ‘Events HQ’ and so we steered that way, a few other peeps were going in the same general direction. Another sign pointed into the closest building and soon we were in the queue for event entries. As is common at this sort of thing it’s not just bike races, separate queues led to tables for the assorted running and cycling events as well as what was billed as a ‘micro’ triathlon.

"Shoulda bought your cozzie,” Mand opined.
"Great idea,” I sneered.
"You guys go to the pool,”
"Not to swim,” I pointed out.
“I bet,” Ron chuckled.
"And anyway I'm a crap runner.”
"There is that,” Mand agreed.
"You’re not supposed to agree.”
“I have seen you run,” she pointed out.
"Next!” the woman at the cycling table prompted.
 
"Ten Euros,” I complained again.
"Give over, Gab,” Mand suggested.

Well I guess it’s not exactly a fortune for ‘on the line’ entry, Dad generally sorts all the entries and I'll get the dosh back but still. Our race isn’t until one so there was no rush to get ready and we took the longer route back to the now unmistakable Apollinaris team bus. Dad mentioned about George’s decals the other day – well if ‘Apollinaris Cycling’ in thirty centimetre high letters is subtle then it’s subtle.

Whilst we’d been gone Dad and Angela had got the easy up erected in a gap between a couple of trees.

"Sorted?” Dad enquired.
"Yeah,” I allowed brandishing our race numbers, "One o’clock.”
He checked his watch, "Time for coffee then.”
 
“Jungern und Frauen, zehn minuten,” the PA system announced.

We’d been waiting with our fellow competitors to get onto the circuit in a sort of holding area and joined the surge of bodies onto the course. You might have spotted it’s a mixed category race, we qualify on both scores of course – not that the field is huge, half a dozen women and about forty lads – well there’s us too so almost fifty riders. We might if we’re lucky get a couple of laps in between now and the start.

It’s a public park, the race circuit using a loop through the woodland on reasonable path before swinging onto a narrower, packed earth path back towards the Schloss, tracking the ‘canal ’. When I say narrow, well it’s probably three metres wide with a high hedge on one side, so hitting this section in a good position will be essential. The finish will be on the wide thoroughfare but the race circuit actually loops back onto the woodland path.

It’s certainly going to be an interesting race, thirty laps of a kilometre and a half each so not long, maybe an hour but an hour of graft. We actually managed three warm up laps before the officials stopped us and we joined the congregation waiting to start. Obviously there’s no service today, just a comissaires motorbike leading the race for safety – it’s still a public park complete with kids and dogs after all.

No big speeches, no presentation just a bit of spectator information issued over the PA – oh and instructions for lapped riders. I spotted Dad and Angela behind the barriers, several spare wheels at their feet, we’ll have to get back here if we have any issues. I idly took a bite of energy bar followed by a mouthful from my bidon.

BAAARP!
And we’re off.
 
In a field of such diverse abilities the first lap would inevitably be a tortuous and potentially dangerous affair – especially with the narrow course. No sooner had we cleared the barriered area than some of the more ambitious riders started forcing their way forward even taking to the grass to pass slower traffic. I found myself hemmed in and we were already turning towards the canal before I slipped the noose and broke free.

I recognised more than a few of my fellow competitors from recent events at Rattingen and even a couple who rode at the Ring last week. It might be a chipper but it’s not going to be an easy ride. The field was already quite stretched out, I checked for the others, Ron was up near the leaders, Mand a few spots closer to me.

Whoever is up front was keeping quite a high pace as we flitted through the trees but then a squeal of brakes presaged a compression of the field as, for the first time during the race, we hit the narrower canal path. I can’t repeat some of the language, some of it with Mad’s distinct Anglo Saxon verbs! By the time I reached the turn several riders were retrieving bikes from the grass, looks like nothing too serious.

Easing past the carnage I set about chasing down the leaders, a job not made any easier by the soft surface of the path. we’ve no specific team plans – well a victory would be nice of course but it’s pretty much every girl for herself. I picked past a few riders and by the time the speed eased a little to take the turn back into the woodland, I was on the back of the lead group.

“Flippin’ ‘eck!” Mand exclaimed as we sped once more through the trees.
"Brutal,” I agreed.

From the original fifty riders I'd guess we were already reduced by half – most of the damage being done by that single corner. Yeah this afternoon is gonna be all about staying out of trouble.
 
With a smaller group we negotiated the transition corner without incident, well without any off's at least, for next several laps, a couple of lads doing most of the driving on the front. Indeed I was quite surprised to hear the bell announcing the first of two mid race primes at the end of the next lap. Well if there’s money on the line, count me in, I'd been holding station towards the rear of the group with Manda but I now eased my way closer to where Ron was.

I wasn’t the only one with desires on the pot, well how could I be? We made canal turn slightly faster than previously, was that a little bit of skid? We tore along the dirt path, occasional plumes of dust marking our progress on the rapidly drying surface.

By the end of the straight I was tucked in fourth wheel, primed to launch a Bond mega sprint. The slight rise up onto the main path played into my hands and I took off like the proverbial fly with a blue posterior. It was only about fifty metres to the line and I sailed over several lengths clear – yeah, first blood to Bond.

It was tempting to keep going but by the time I'd taken a slug from my bottle the other front runners were at my shoulder. Next time then. We were now about a dozen, then a few chasers followed by a larger group, maybe we should capitalise on our advantage.

Both girls were with me in the lead group, Ron being the one struggling a little today on the back of the group. Clearly there was some recollection by some riders of previous Apollinaris interactions, the pace kept high in, I think the hope that it’d stunt any escape plans. Well if that’s how you want it, I settled back in at fourth wheel, no point wasting energy.
 
"Alright?”
"Guess so,” Mand gasped back, "Wish they’d ease off a bit.”
"Yeah,” I shrugged, there’d been no real let up for about five laps and even I was starting to feel the effort.
"You gonna have a go?”
"Next prime,” I confirmed.

She nodded in understanding before dropping behind, I'm guessing to advise Ron. Well I'm not sure what was said but the girl from Mettmann suddenly came ripping past in a clearly suicidal attack – or was it? There was a reaction, itself hindered by the already high pace, not quick enough to stamp on Ron’s move straight off.

We were back on the canal path before we were back together and thankfully the chase resulted in a lowering of speed once Ron was back in the fold. I quickly fed myself, not had a chance for nearly twenty minutes and I want to be ready for my attack. Ron nodded as she dropped back, I signalled two laps before concentrating on my riding once more.
 
It was a short lived rebate in the groups speed as the bell sounded again we were back at forty K, strung in a single strand along the roadway. I made a couple of places turning onto the dirt path, not too keen on the bit of slip but I was well placed for the prime. From second wheel I launched early, we were still on the canal path, I almost caught air on the lip onto the tarmac, the small crowd were cheering and I was still accelerating through the line.

This time however I kept going full gas, mashing the chain round with great fervour. Ten laps and counting, Bondtastic! I paced myself to the motorbike with its flashing lights a hundred metres ahead, so far so good.
 
Two laps later and I'd chanced a quick look behind, about two hundred metres was the gap, they certainly weren’t taking things lying down. A quick sip from the bottle and I snicked up into top, I need to make this stick. Sunshine was dappling the course now, slanting through the branches, alternatively washing out and hiding the road surface.

Which was how I hit canal turn a mite fast.
"Shi-it!”
I was around the corner but my rear wheel washed out on a patch of now dry gravel.
"Ooof!”

I hit the deck, momentum carried me forward across the gravel and onto the grass where I came to rest half way down the slope to the water. Bum, I quickly stood and grabbed my bars, almost dragging the bike back up to the path. The chasers whooshed past as I struggled to get moving again, hindered by the chain having become wedged behind the crank, bum, bum, bum!
 
Maddy Bell © 30.03.17

*pronounced 'Benrat'

 
When the second group passed me I gave up. Poxy bike! I pushed it down the slope – luckily it fell over after a couple of metres, I dropped to the ground and soon hot tears of frustration were running down my face.

"Gab!”
I ignored the approaching voice, the sound of passing bikes above mocking me as I gripped my knees and rocked in misery.
"Gaby, you alright, kiddo?”
I gave a half hearted shrug as a blob of snot joined the tears coursing down my chin and dripping onto the grass.
"Come, on let’s get you cleaned up, can you walk?” Dad asked.
I nodded but once on my feet found I was wrong, my whole left side was a mass of pain. Which is how I ended up in Dad’s arms for the walk to where the paramedics joined us – not sure how he was managing me and my mangled bike. The professionals quickly had me strapped to a stretcher and I ‘enjoyed’ a less than pleasant journey to the first aid post, inside the Schloss complex.

"Nothing broken at least,” Dad mentioned an hour later.
I winced as Johannes, one of the paramedics pretty much scrubbed at my raw shoulder. Yeah, nothing broken but some mega road rash and no doubt I'll have some nice bruises. Never do things by half me, not just gravel but grass burns too.
"There we go, young lady, I'll just put you a dressing on there and we’re done.” Johannes advised.
"Er thanks.”
Of course by bib’s were a right off and my jersey has had a sudden downgrade to training layer. I inspected my hip and arm, getting the dirt out had been painful but there wasn’t much blood, the dressings are more protection than medical need. Great, and it’s the wedding on Wednesday, I'm gonna look a right turnip.
"I've got you-re,” Mand tailed off, "Ouch.”
"It’s not great from this side either,” I allowed.
"The bikes away, Mand?” Dad asked.
"Er yeah, and some bloke gave us a hand with the tent.”
"That’ll save me a job.”
"Here we go,” the medic advised.
I winced again as he taped the dressing onto my shoulder, "Thanks.”
"So, good to go, young woman,” he grinned before leaving us once again.
"Let’s get some clothes on you and we can get out of here,” Dad suggested.
Mand had brought my skirt, cami and underwear, with the first aid room temporarily empty except for us Mand helped me exchange sweaty ripped clothing for stuff I could at least be seen in public wearing.
"Ready?” Dad queried.
"Shoes?” I suggested.
"Bum, I knew there was something else,” Mand mentioned.
"Looks like it’s Dad taxi time,” Pater sighed.

We must’ve looked a right sight as we made our way back to the Hymer, for the second time this afternoon I was clamped around Dad’s neck in a most unbecoming position for a sixteen year old woman – plus of course I had my hand maiden Mand following along with the remains of my cycling kit.

"You all right?” Ron asked as I hobbled to the camper’s sofa.
"Duh!”
"Well apart from the obvious,” she clarified.
"Had worse,” I sighed, yeah, cracked bones, concussion.
"You didn’t do your face this time,” Dad put in.
"There is that, I added with just a hint of sarcasm.
"Oh, I picked up your winnings,” Ron advised grabbing an envelope from the counter top.
"Er thanks,” I took it from her and slitted it open, “fifty.”
"Don’t knock it,” Mand told me,” I only got that for first girl.”
"You beat Ron? She beat you Ron?”
"I was having an off day,” Ron shrugged.
"Excuses,” Mand crowed.
"Girls.” Angela pointedly stated before things got out of hand.
"You up to eating, Gab?” Dad asked.

"Where we going,” I asked, straining to see out of the front from my spot in the main cabin.
“Zons,” Dad stated.
“Zons?”
We took the next left before he answered, "Little place across the river.”
"You not heard of Zons, Gab?” Ron ribbed.
"And you have?” I countered.
"It’s a little place across the river,” well she couldn’t keep a straight face, I'm sure I even saw Angela having a chuckle.
"Huh, mock the invalid.”
We navigated the narrow lane around the back of the Schlosspark before making a couple of rights, the second marked with ‘Zons v.Fähre’. A couple of minutes later we pulled up on a slipway above a Rhein swollen with summer melt water from the distant Alps.
"Geez, that ferry’s even smaller than Linz,” Mand pronounced.
And after I edged forward to look I had to agree, I doubt you’ll get much more than the Hymer on board, well maybe a couple of cars but you get the idea.
“Zons is just over the other side,” Dad advised as we watched the ferry edge its way across the fast flowing waters.

Once across the river Dad swung towards the village only to be thwarted in his choice of route by the smallest gateway I've ever seen. I guess you might get a Beetle van through but our behemoth of three axle Hymer goodness – no way. So after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing we were turned about and soon enough we were entering ‘Feste Zons’ from the landward side.

"So where’re we eating?” I enquired once we were parked below what I'm guessing was a watchtower.
"Carsten recommended some place down by the river, the Altes Zollhaus or some such.”
"We’ve got to walk?” I complained.
"It won’t do you any harm,” he told me.
I suppose if I'm gonna eat I'll have to walk, I took a deep breath and started hobbling off.
"Er, Gab,” Ron called after me.
"What?”
"Wrong way.”
Grrr.

Dad was armed with his camera, he was doing the David Bailey thing about every five metres. So okay it’s all oldie worldly, a mix of old brick and timber frames, narrow streets and on a warm Sunday afternoon, quite busy with visitors from, by their accents, as far away as Düsseldorf! My leg wasn’t actually too bad to walk on, running is out but I wasn’t going to run anyhow.
"How’re you going to do the wedding?” Mand enquired as we drifted towards our destination.
Yeah, the wedding, "Guess I'll have to wear a cardi.”
"Wedding, Gab?” Angela asked.
"Yeah, you remember Sophia in Stuttgart last year? It’s her sister tying the knot.”
"You certainly mix in exalted circles, Gaby.”
"Her boyfriend is nearly a baron,” Mand spouted.
"He is not!”
"His Dad’s the Baron,” Mand pointed out.
“Max is not my boyfriend!”
"So where were you last night?”
“Max’s,” I allowed cautiously.
"Sounds like a boyfriend to me,” she stated matter of factly.
"Have to agree,” Ron put in, "You never said anything about last night?”
"There’s nothing to tell, we had dinner, I came home.”
"Hmm,” Ron allowed with a raised brow.
"You lot,” Dad called from behind us, "Restaurant’s here.”

The Altes Zollhaus does traditional German or, er traditional German, they had a set menu which everyone agreed would do the honours, soup, Schweinfillet with veggies for the main and coffee to follow. To be honest I didn’t think it was anything special, I certainly wouldn’t make a special journey but I guess we were only over the river. There was nothing to linger for so we headed back to the camper, Dad did detour to take a look at the moat but somehow he was at the Hymer before us.
We didn’t use the ferry to go back, we picked up the A46 motorway which whisked us most of the way back to Mettmann where we rounded off our late lunch with more coffee and a decent wedge of Oma cake, a delicious affair with raspberry mousse, cream and chocolate drizzled over the top. We didn’t stay too late, Marcus was expected home and I'm sure Angela would prefer to be with her man rather than entertaining us.

"How’s the bike?” I queried passing Dad a mug of tea.
"Not as bad as I thought,” he allowed before sipping his tea. "I thought you’d broken the shifter but it was just twisted.”
"What about the chain?”
"Well I'll put a new one on just in case but it looked okay, couple of scrapes on the saddle and pedal, can’t do much about them, fresh tape and she’ll be ready to rock and roll.”
"It just slipped out from under me,” I mentioned.
"No one’s blaming you, kiddo, these things happen.”
"But I shoulda been more careful.”
“Main thing is you’re okay, a few scrapes I know, but nothing broken, like your bike, with a bit of TLC you’ll live to ride another day.”
He went to give me a hug, stopping himself just before grabbing my sore shoulder – I made do with a kiss on the head.
"Think I'm gonna go to bed, work in the morning.”
"I'll take you up.”
"You don’t have to.”
"I'm taking you,” he told me firmly.
"Thanks, Dad, see you in the morning.”
"Night, kiddo.”

I'd barely got into bed when my Handy started buzzing.
"Hello? Bond.”
"Gab? It’s me.”
"Bern?”
"Duh!” she replied.
"You got a new phone?”
"Er yeah, Dad got it on contract so I can ring Mart.”
"Hang on, let me put it in my contacts.” I quickly hit the relevant keys, "Okay, so what’s up?”
"Why does anything have to be up?”
"It doesn’t, look sorry I've not been in touch, it’s been kinda hectic here.”
"Your snack bar thing?”
"How’d you know?”
“Mart, we do talk you know. Anyway you’ll never guess what?”

Maddy Bell © 30.03.17

 
"You’ve won the lottery.”
"I wish,” Bern lamented.
"It hasn’t rained today.
"You’re being silly now, Gab.”
"Well I'm not a mind reader am I,” I pointed out, "Bum.”
"You okay?”
"Just about,” I supplied as I tried to get a little more comfortable, "Came off this afternoon.”
"What’ve you done?”
"Just some road rash.”
"Nice.”
"So come on, what’s this news you were so desperate to impart?”
"Well you’ll never guess who’s getting married?”
"You’re right, I'll never guess.”
"You’re no fun, Gaby Bond.”
"Well?” I pushed.
"Oh alright, well I was taking Drea to the clinic on Friday and who do you think I should see coming out of the doctors’?”
"I dunno.”
"Fran.”
"Fran?”
"As in Warsop College.”
"Fran Cowlishaw,” I translated.
"The same.”
"And?” I pointedly enquired.
"Well we had a chat like.”
"Cut to the chase, Bern.”
"Alright,” she huffed, "Well anyway she’s getting hitched.”
"Fran’s getting married?”
"That’s what I said.”
"That’s unexpected, who to?”
"Well that’s the thing, it’s Pilling.”
"As in ‘two more laps Pilling’?”
"The same!”
"I thought he was already married?”
"Divorced,” Bern advised with some authority.
"Guess I'd best send a card or something.
"Keep it to yourself though, no one at the school knows,”
"And who am I gonna tell? I'm like five hundred miles away.”
"I dunno, your cousin or Ally?”
"I've not spoken to Mad since New Year.”
"Well I don’t know do I?”
"So was that it?”
"Pretty much,” she admitted.
"So how’s Drea?”

Well that opened the floodgates, ask any mother about her kids and you’ll get chapter and verse on their toilet habits, sleep patterns and more associated drivel than I ever want to know. For the next twenty minutes I got the low down in exquisite detail – I think I dropped off at one point.

"So I'll see you in a few weeks then,” Bern concluded.
"Er yeah,” I agreed.
"Geez is that the time, bye!
"Nite.”
I checked the time myself, half ten, gott, she’s been rattling for best part of an hour!

 
It wasn’t a pretty sight, the combination of fresh scab and now, multi hued bruising, well my shoulder looks a right mess. The hip’s more painful but I can at least easily wear a skirt or something and its covered, but the shoulder… I squeezed a blob of Savlon® into my hand and slavered it over the damage – aah, instant relief. I quickly put my hair up – don’t want it getting stuck to my wounds, and limped my way downstairs.

"Alright, kiddo?” Dad asked, "Ouch, that bruising’s come out well, how’s the leg.”
"I'll live I guess.”
"You going to be okay at the kiosk like that?”
"Con can practice her cooking,” I suggested pouring myself a cuppa, "I can hardly not go can I, I mean I'm off most of the week as it is.”
"Well get your breakfast, I'll just be in the office, shout me when you’re ready.”
“’Kay.”

 
"Morning!” Con sang happily when she arrived at work.
"Heya,” I allowed whilst keeping my attention on refilling the sugar dispenser.
"Everything okay?”
"Think so,” I screwed the lid back on the sugar before turning round,” Dad did the tables.”
"What the heck have you done to your arm?” she squawked.
"I was trying to see how far I could slide on gravel.”
"You daft moo, seriously?”
"I fell off in the race, did my leg too,” I went to pull up my skirt to show her.
"I'd rather not see thank you,” she stated, the wimp.
"It might be best if you do the food today?” I suggested.
"I guess,” she agreed, "Don’t want bits of Bond in the Pommes.”
"Eurgh!” yeah, not a pretty thought.

 
"Soph?”

It occurred to me mid morning that I hadn’t called Sophia about tomorrow night, you know frocks and stuff.

"Yes?”
"It’s Gaby? Bond?”
"Gaby! You are still coming tomorrow?”
"Keep me away,” I fibbed.
"Great! Sara’s friends are all coming but I hardly know any of them, it’ll be great to have someone to bunk off with.”
"Er yeah, so I was wondering like, what’s the er dress code for this breakfast thing tomorrow?”
"Oh you know, something pretty, well that could be anything for you eh?”
"If you say so, so not too formal then?”
"Like in Augsburg,” she supplied.

Hmm, I think I know where that dress Soph gifted me last year is, I guess that’ll do.

 
"What’re you doing?” Mand asked before taking another bite from her apple.
"Looking for a dress.”
"You’ve got hundreds.”
"Bit of an exaggeration,” I pointed out.
"Well more than me anyhow, so any in particular?”
"Yeah, it’s a sort of semi formal thing for tomorrow night.”
"Tomorrow?”
"Yeah, there’s like a posh dinner thing for the family and selected guests.”
"Which you just happen to get invited to, so are you family or guest.”
"I'm not exactly related am I,” I pointed out.
"Not quite,” she mumbled.
"Aha!” I exclaimed, the frock in question was sharing a hanger with my prom dress for some reason. I extricated it and hung it with my wedding outfit and my evening dress.
"You two going tonight?” Dad called up.
"Coming!” I trilled back.

I guess I had excuse enough to give cheer a miss – I'm sure Mand wouldn’t’ve been too bothered but that would mean missing pizza night. I might be injured but I'm not off my food and double pepperoni is good healing food; well I reckon so and I'm sticking by that!

 
Mum was home when we got back with the pizza – I wondered why Dad got four instead of the usual three.

"Heya Mrs B,” Pia told mater.
"Hi Pia, good session girls?” she enquired as she distributed plates.
"Not bad,” I suggested, "Oh guess what?”
"Fran Cowlishaw is getting married.”
"John’s divorce finally came through then.”
"You knew about them?”
"It wasn’t exactly a secret in the staff room,” she mentioned, "Can you fetch the salad please, Amanda.”
"So much for hot gossip,” I sighed.
"I never took you for a gossip,” Mum noted, "So how’s the side?”
I slipped my t shirt off my shoulder, “’s dried up a bit now, it was a bit weepy earlier.”
“Urgh, put it away, Gab, it’s putting me off the pizza,” P complained.
"What this?” I said brandishing my scabby body at her.
"Gabrielle Bond,” Dad admonished.
"Soz,” I meekly returned easing my top back into place.

 
"I'll pick you up at twelve,” Mum confirmed as I climbed out of the A Klasse.
“’Kay, later.”
"Bye.”

I waited for her to depart before heading into the kiosk, Con having beaten me here even though she was supposed to be on late what with me finishing at lunch.

"Packed?”
"Just about, coffee?”
"Please.”
"So why’re you here so early?”
"Dad was coming up with the bread so I got a lift.”
"What’s that?” I asked as she was poring over some papers.
"First week’s trading, mum ran it off last night. Did you know we sold six hundred and thirty one coffees last week?”
"Is that good?”
"It’s more than the bakery.”
"That got everything on it?” I enquired handing her coffee to her before starting a second cup of coffee for myself.
"Pretty much, doesn’t tell you what cake it is mind, just how many.”
"So how many currywursts then?”
"Er, hot food,” she ran a finger along the line, "Seventy one, that doesn’t include the opening.”
"Felt like more than that,” I mused.
"We did twenty pies,” she offered.
"There’s hope yet,” I beamed.
"Next you’ll have us selling those pudding things.”
"Yorkshires? Ooh, now you’re talking!”

Con just rolled her eyes.

Maddy Bell © 31.03.17

 
"So you’ve got everything?” Mum asked again.

I surveyed the pile of stuff in the hallway and counted off the contents in my head, dress for tonight, wedding frock and fancy dress for tomorrow night in case one. Underwear, shoes and stuff to come home in case two and of course make up and so on in the day bag.

"Think so.”
"You’ve got a cardigan?”
"Uh huh, oh bum, perücke!”

Geez, I daren’t forget that. I heaved myself back up to my eyrie where the blonde hairpiece mocked me from its foam stand next to my computer. I retrieved it and hurried back downstairs.

I opened my make up case to stow it.

"You can’t put it in there, it’ll get messed up,” Mum stated.
"Well where then? Gloria will be here anytime.”
"Why don’t you wear it, problem sorted.”
"I haven’t got time.”
"Kitchen now,” she ordered.
"But Gloria...”
"Will wait, where’s your brush?”

 
And so, when I followed Mum and Max out to Gloria’s Porsche SUV I was sporting not my now familiar pink locks but the much shorter and more sophisticated blonde wig.

"Hi, Gloria,” Mum greeted.
"Jenny, all set, Gaby?”
"Think so,” I mumbled passing the make-up bag to Max so he could stow it.
"You know kids,” Mum put in, "No Wilhelm?”
"Taken his car down, bringing mother back Thursday,” our driver advised.

I climbed into the back, staying kerbside so the seatbelt won’t rub my damaged shoulder.

"Have a good time and behave yourself,” Mum instructed before closing the door.
"Yes, Mum.”

Max got in next to his mother and after a round of farewells Gloria engaged drive and we were off.

 
"So you all right, Gaby?” Gloria enquired over her shoulder.
"Uh huh,” I allowed.
"So how did your race thing go the other day?”
"I bet you won again,” Max stated, turning awkwardly to look at me.
"Er not exactly,” I admitted, "I sort of didn’t finish.”
"How come?” Max queried.
"I sort of fell off.”
"You are all right?” Gloria asked with some concern.
"Pretty much, a bit of road rash and some bruises.”
"Good job you didn’t break anything,” Max opined.
"Anyone would think you cared.”
"I’d’ve had to dance with Sophia or one of the other Pferde .”
"What’s wrong with Soph?”
"Nothing if you like horses.”
"Well I like her.”
"But you’re a girl.”
"What’s that got to do with anything?”
"Just because Gabrielle’s coming doesn’t mean you don't dance with your cousin,” Gloria pointed out.
"I give up,” Max stated with a huff.
"Don’t mind him, Gaby,” his mother advised.
Why would I, it’s not like we’re a couple or anything is it?

 
Without the Baroness in the car Gloria was a bit of a lead foot, lane three past all the trucks filling the A61. Somewhere I dropped off only waking as the Cayenne made a fast deceleration.

"Hmm,” I managed with a stretch, "Where are we?”
"Services,” Gloria advised, "I need a coffee.”
“’Kay.”

We threaded past the tankstelle and swung into a parking bay almost outside of the roadhouse entrance.

"Ooh,” I allowed as I slipped down from the car.
"You alright?” Max enquired.
"Leg’s a bit stiff.”

I fished back inside for my bag before joining the von Strechau’s for the walk inside, well bit of a hobble on my part.

"You sure you’re alright,” Gloria asked with some concern.
"It’s just being sat so long.”
"Go find a table, coffee?”
"Milk please, I'll just pop to the ladies.”

 
I sat in the cubicle and examined my hip. Not a pretty sight, the bruising still livid, the scabby surface a bit oozy in places – yeah not nice. Mum insisted I bring some sterile wipes and of course the Savlon® so I did a quick clean up and reapplication job. At least the shoulder wasn’t weepy but I reapplied the antiseptic cream anyhow before leaving the facilities.

"Gab!” Max waved from across the restaurant, he and his mum sat at a window table.

I picked my way over to join them.

"I got you Pflaumküchen, Max said you like it,” Gloria mentioned as I took a seat.
"Er thanks,” I managed eyeing the cream and chocolate covered slices of torte the von Strechau’s each had with a little envy.
“Feeling better?” Max asked.
"Er yeah.”
"You going to be okay for tomorrow?” Gloria enquired.
"Don’t see why not, couple of paracetamol and I'll be sorted.”
"If you say so.” She didn’t look convinced.

 
I traced our likely route on the map by the door as I waited for the others to use the facilities. We’re at Worms at the moment, about halfway to Stuttgart, still some two hundred and fifty kilometres away.

"Should be there about six thirty,” Max opined joining me at the board.
I looked at my wrist watch, "It’s half four now.”
"Might be earlier then,” he suggested.
"Ready?” Gloria queried a moment later.

We soon rejoined the motorway traffic, Gloria soon accelerating up to join the string of Five series, C Klasse and Vectra’s haring southwards. Late afternoon of course everyone is keen to end the working day, from Ludwigshafen and all the way down to Karlsruhe it was a continuous stream of trucks and rep specials. I didn’t realise how on edge it was making me, and no doubt Gloria, until we turned onto the quieter Stuttgart motorway.

I checked my watch as we left the autobahn for the short drop into Stuttgart centre, five past six, goodness knows what speeds we’ve been doing. Of course it couldn’t last, the traffic over the last handful of kilometres quickly eating the minutes but eventually we reached our hotel.

"Right, Gaby, you’re in with me,” Gloria advised once we were checked in – well I was hardly gonna be sharing with Max, was I?
“’Kay.”
"We’ve got an hour before our taxi comes so we’d best get into gear, Max, Gab’s bags.”
"Yes, Mum.”

 
Rather than a shower I did a sink wash – well I showered at home and it means I don’t have to redo my hair. It also gave Gloria more bathroom time.

Knock! Knock!

"Hello? I called through the door as I hopped about to put my second shoe on.
"Taxi’s here,” Wilhelm offered back.
"We’ll be right there.”
"Okay.”
"Who was that?” Gloria asked joining me in the bedroom fixing an earring as she did so.
"Wilhelm, the taxi is here.”
"Well I'm ready, shall we go?”

 
"Where we going?” I whispered into Max’s ear as the taxi headed not as I'd thought into the centre but apparently out into the countryside.
"The breakfast of course.”
"I know that, dummy, where is it*?”
"The Mercedes Museum,” Wilhelm supplied having overheard our conversation.
"That place that was on the news a few weeks back?”
"Probably.”
“Cool!” I allowed with slightly more enthusiasm than befits a genteel young lady.

Our route out into the countryside quickly had us circumnavigate the city centre and soon we dropped down to and over the Neckar. An interminable wait at a set of traffic lights put us onto Mercedes Strasse and past the fair ground.

"Hey look, the Red’s ground,” Max enthused pointing across the car.

The Red’s are of course the top local football club, we must’ve been here when we raced last year, the Museum was still being built then of course.

"Whatever,” I replied in bored tones.
"They won the league this year,” Max went on.
"And?”
"Well it’s their ground.”
"Max you have a losing battle, Gabrielle isn’t into kick ball,” Gloria observed.
“Football,” Max muttered which caused me to snigger.

Moments later however we pulled up outside of the bizarre glass and steel building. Obviously we weren’t the only ones arriving, an assortment of cars and taxis were excreting the wider Thun & Taxis family and guests. Worryingly I actually recognised a couple of faces, I guess from either Heinemann bash in Bonn or the Munich affair.

Flunkies directed everyone to a side door, well we weren’t exactly visiting the Museum were we. Instead we found ourselves in an exclusive restaurant area, I say exclusive, it clearly doesn’t serve burger and chips at any time and the décor almost smelt ‘expensive’.

"Ludwig!” Wilhelm greeted our host with a firm handshake.
"Willy, good to see you, you too, Gloria, Maria will be glad to see you.”
"By the sounds, someone needs rescuing from Mother,” Gloria noted.
"Your sister I think,"The Duke opined, "Ah, I think I see our English princess there, welcome, Gaby.”
"Um thanks for inviting me, Your Grace,” I managed with a slight blush.
"I've got a job for you and Max here actually,” Duke Ludwig started.
"A job, sir?” Max asked.
"A little one only, can you try to keep Sophia out of mischief?”
"Er we can try,” I agreed before Max could make some excuse.
"Excellent, well we’ll be eating in what,” he checked his time piece, "Ten minutes, I think my daughter is over by the stage.”
 
"What did you say that for?” Max complained as we headed for the tiny stage where the band were setting up for later.
"She is my friend and your cousin.”
"Once removed.” He was back to muttering.
"And anyway, who else here is even close to our age?”

A quick look around answered that one, various groups of people were stood talking, mostly older, the younger ones, well still like proper adults, were marshalling rug rats, nursing babes in arms or the one other under twenty was an already bored pre teen girl in a plain pink organza ‘princess’ dress. Yeah, great company.
 
Maddy Bell © 01.04.17

 
"Gabeee!”
"Soph,” I allowed as we exchanged air kisses.
"See you brought Maximilian,” she noted as we parted.

Other way round really.

"Hi, Sophia.” Max offered.
"Like your frock, girlfriend,”
"Er thanks,"You did give it to me Soph, "Yours is er, interesting.”

Well I suppose less interesting than revealing, having more splits than the famed yellow fruit dessert.

"You like?”
"You want a drink, Gab?” Max asked.
"Lemonade?”
"Lemonade?, geez Gab, live a little,” Soph declared loudly, "Get her some wine Maxxie.”

I exchanged looks with the lummox who then took off in search of liquid refreshment.
 
When I did finally spot Sara she was with a gangling youth wearing glasses and a dose of acne along with a middle aged couple who were clearly outside of their comfort zone. Given the ‘shotgun’ nature of the wedding I was almost disappointed that she wasn’t noticeably ‘with child’. I know that sounds a bit mean, I don’t mean to be but it’s like being told that pudding is chocolate cake and it not being brown if that makes sense.

"Sara looks well.”
"Stupid moo, I told her to use protection.”
"Guess these things happen.”
Soph shrugged, "She didn’t have to keep it.”

Well that was a bit of a conversation killer and now is hardly the time for such discussion although I'm sure most in the room know the circumstances surrounding these particular nuptials.

"So who’s the sprog in pink?” I asked Soph while we waited for von Strechau to return.
"Where?”
"Behind the woman in blue over there.”
She craned her neck to look, "With the dark hair? Oh Saskia, right little brat.”
"Doesn’t look like one.”
"Take it from me, don’t you remember her at Munich, threw a right strop.”
"Don’t think so,” well to be honest what I do remember is quite limited and intense.

Ding, ding, ding!

Aha, food time.
 
Of course Sophia was top table with her family and the outlaws to be, whatever logic was given to the rest of the seating placed Max and I on a table with the apparent brat Saskia and her parents.

“Max,” the father allowed as we found our seats.
"Christian, Joanne, er this is Gabrielle.”
"Er hi.”
"Hello, the shy one here is Saskia,” Joanne allowed.
"Hello, Saskia,“I offered, "That’s a pretty dress.”

Said child tried to hide behind her mother.

"She’s a bit shy,” Christian mentioned.
"So when do you two do all this?” Joanne asked as we were served the starter.
"We’re not.” "We aren’t.” we both stated over one another

Saskia gave a nervous chuckle.

"Oh sorry, I just assumed,” Joanne apologized, “it’s just you’ve got the amber on, Gaby.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

We managed to get through the rest of the food on safer topics, Saskia even managing to answer a question or two. The food was okay but more artistic than filling, I could’ve eaten twice as much, reckon I'll need to hit my Haribo® supply later. Tonight wasn’t for speeches or anything – that’s tomorrow so once the food was finished the band started up.
 
"This is dire,” Max noted.

I had to agree, I might have quite wide musical taste but Oma music isn’t amongst them – clearly Sara hadn’t had any input in tonight’s music choice, I hope it’s better tomorrow.

Soph swept up to join us, "Come on!”
"Where?”
"You’ll see,” she grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the restaurant, Max in pursuit.
"Where we going, Soph?” I asked again stumbling a bit in my heels.
“Quick, up here.”

I let her lead me up a set of stairs, one, two, three flights before ducking under one of those rope barrier things.

"We aren’t supposed to be up here,” Max stated the fairly obvious.
"Oh live a bit, Max, come on, let’s explore.”

Sheesh, you’d think she was about six! We walked somewhat slower up the sloping floor emerging into what is clearly part of the museum display, a room full of racing cars.

"Neat,” Max allowed now leading the way.

Of course the main lighting wasn’t on but there was enough from the emergency stuff and what was coming in from outside, to see by. We slowly made our way past the exhibits then headed up the next ramp, I got the feeling I was being watched but we were the only ones here right? I stopped to take my heels off, the floors carpeted here at least and well, heels and hills, not a great combination.
 
The next display was apparently experimental stuff which wasn’t quite so interesting so we moved further up.

"Let’s look down here,” I suggested when we came to junction, it looked much brighter down the slope.
"Whatever,” Max allowed changing direction.
“I'll catch up, just put my shoes back on.”

There was a seat so I sat down to get re-shod. What was that? Sounded like something rustling – I strained to hear it again but all I could make out was the now distant mumbling from Soph and Max. Must be my imagination, oh well, I set off down this new ramp in pursuit of my companions.
 
"Hey, Gab, come up here,” Soph called over.
"Should you be on there?”
"Who’s gonna see?” she pointed out, "Come on.”

Well it was tempting, I lost my heels again and climbed up into the 1920’s Benz fire engine beside her.

“Max, take a photo?” Soph suggested.
"With what?”
"Here, use my Handy,” I enthused digging it from my bag.
"Go on then,” he sighed.

The phone’s camera isn’t great but it’s better than nothing. Max took a couple of pictures before we climbed down and once again I was left to put my shoes back on. There was definitely a rustle this time, not that I could see anything to cause it – or could I?

I carefully crept around the back of the ambulance, doing my best not to let my heels click on the concrete floor. There was definitely another rustle, I poked my head cautiously around the corner, a ha! I leapt from cover and grabbed the figure.

"Gotcha!”
 

 
There was a loud screech which brought the others running.

"Gab!”

Max did one of those cartoon turns before landing on his bum.

"Look what I've found.”
“I didn’t mean anything!”
"Saski, what are you doing up here?” Soph asked the now shaking child.
"Hey calm down, kiddo,” I told her, “you’re not in trouble.”
"Well no more than us,” Max pointed out rubbing his posterior.
"How long have you been up here?”
“I was bored then I saw you an’ Max an’ Sophia go up the stairs.”
"So you followed us,” Soph stated the obvious.
“I only wanted to see where you went,” Saskia mumbled.
"Bum,” Max mentioned, "Someone’s coming.”

Bum indeed.

"Come on, kiddo,” I grabbed my stalkers hand, "Time to hide.”

I didn’t see which way Max and Soph went, as I was busy opening the side door of the ambulance.

“Quick inside,” I gave her a boost before climbing up myself and carefully pulled it shut behind me. "Shhh!”
 
We sat in the near pitch black for at least ten minutes before voices approached as I guess security checked around the exhibition space. We waited in continued silence for another ten minutes before I risked opening the door to let us back out. I had a moment of panic when it didn’t open straight off but a hard shove did the trick although I nearly flew out with it!

"Come on, let’s get back down to the party,” I suggested to my charge who just nodded in agreement.

I led the way cautiously back to the spiralling slope, there was no sign of either security or my partners in crime so we started to make our way back down to the ground floor. Going down went quicker than the up journey, I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until we reached the staircase. Made it.

"You’re very pretty.”
"Sorry?” I answered still a bit distracted.
"You’re very pretty,” Saski mentioned, “I like your hair and your dress is nice too.”
"Er thank you, I like yours too, it’s a pretty colour,” I stopped us several steps short of the bottom, "Sas, you can’t tell anyone about going upstairs.”
"Why not?”
"Well we weren’t supposed to go there and we could get into trouble.”
“I never thought of that,” she admitted.
"Look, do you want to know a secret?”
"What sort of secret?”
"One just between us.”
"Okay,” she agreed.
"Well my hair isn’t really blonde.”
"You dye it? That's not much of a secret.”
"No I don’t dye it,” well not often, "But it really is pink like your dress.”
“It’s not, I can see it’s blonde.”
“I'll prove it but you can’t tell anyone, you promise?”
“I promise.”

I quickly pulled out the grips holding the wig in place and whipped it from my head.

“Ugh!” she gaped as my rose tinted tresses flowed free, “It really is pink!”
"Shush, you can’t tell anyone.”

She inspected my locks more closely to confirm it wasn’t a trick.

“I better put this back on,” I suggested waving the wig.
 
I was re-wigged, and I'd acquired drinks for Saskia and myself before the others crept back into the party.

"Where’ve you been?” I asked in low tones.
"We ended up right at the top, someone took a wrong turning,” she looked pointedly at Max.
"Well it all looked the same.”
"We found our way didn’t we, Gaby?”
"Shush, remember it’s a secret.”
 
Maddy Bell © 01.04.17

 
Whether our absence and sojourn to the upper floors was noticed I couldn’t say, certainly no one said anything. A change of music style had occurred during our trip upstairs, it was at least bearable even if the covers of seventies ‘Glam Rock’ were less than danceable. Not that that was much of an issue as I found myself ‘dancing’ with my new ‘best friend’, Saskia rather than with, say Max.

"Thanks so much for keeping Saski out of mischief,” Joanne, her mother offered.

Said child gave me an exaggerated wink.

"No problem, we had fun eh, Sas?”
"Yes,” she agreed with a nod.
"No doubt we’ll see you tomorrow, Gaby.”
"Er yeah.”
"Come on, Bun, let’s find your papa and get you to bed.”

 
"Finished babysitting?” Soph enquired thrusting a glass of something into my hand.
"I wasn’t babysitting, what’s this?”
"No idea,” my waitress advised.
"You think she’ll keep quiet?” Max queried.
"I doubt it,” I admitted, "I showed her my hair which might deflect her.”
"Your hair?” Soph asked.
"You don’t think I'd have my hair cut like this do you?”
"Why not, it looks good on you, so it’s a perücke?”
"I did wonder,” Max added, "It’s nice but I prefer it long.”

I gave him a pointed look.

"Er not that you don’t look nice with it shorter,” he blustered.
"So why the perücke?” Soph looked a bit confused.

I took a slug of my drink, eurgh, is that Martini?

"Ladies,” I told her, “here, get me something I can drink,” I demanded of Max handing him my glass.
 
"You haven’t had your head shaved or something?” Soph suggested once we had the toilets to ourselves.
"Be daft!”
"Well?”

For the second time this evening I unpinned my wig and exposed my candyfloss pink locks.

"Oh mein Gott!” Soph exclaimed, "My parents would go ballistic.”
"Mine weren’t exactly happy,” I admitted, "It wasn’t exactly planned.”
"It wasn’t?”
"It’s a long story.”
"Tell me, tell me,” she enthused.
"Well,” I started whilst starting to refit my hairpiece, "It all started before prom….”

 
"Bum,” I muttered.
"You nearly ready, Gaby?” Gloria called from the main room.
"Er yeah, just finishing,” I replied blotting the blob of mascara from my cheek – I guess you can have too much massy. I checked my reflection again, not bad if I do say so myself. A quick adjust of my frock and I was ready.
"You aren’t supposed to outshine the bride,” the Baroness grinned when I presented myself for inspection.
"I won’t will I?” I panicked, I mean, even I know that’s bad form.
"Well, it’s good you aren’t in the bridal group, eh?” she winked.
"Er, Gloria, can I ask something?”
"Can’t promise an answer.”
"Well, the necklace and earrings last night.”
"The amber,” the Baroness suggested, "They suit you well.”
"Er yeah, well it’s just something that Joanne said last night.”
"Christian’s wife?”
"Er yeah, well she said something about the amber,” I poised, "She sort of thought me an’ Max are, well engaged or something.”
She gave a bit of a laugh, "That old chestnut, don’t worry about it.”
"But what was she on about?” I pressed.
"It was a family tradition from the Mittelalter , the betrothed wore amber to show their status in the family, a subtle message to would be suitors.”
"Er right, so it was just coincidence then?”
"Of course, we don’t do such archaic things now,” she stated.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, especially if Max’s Gran is involved anywhere.

 
No coaches or even short walks today, once again Wilhelm had organised a taxi to take us into the centre of Stuttgart, to the Domkirche St. Eberhard to be precise. Unlike Munich or even Bonn, Stuttgart cathedral is a pretty nondescript building, quite small and clearly not that old. And the Taxis were keeping things quite low key, no grand entrance for guests or wedding party, on arrival we were simply directed to our seats.

I couldn’t help comparing the building to those other examples, oh there were loads of flowers and stuff but it felt nonetheless like the church equivalent of a registry office. I felt a bit of a prawn, done up like a dog’s dinner, but really, compared to some of the other guests I'm a wallflower. Particularly the group of young women over on the groom’s side, I guess friends of the couple – well I think they misinterpreted the dress code somewhat.

At some point I acquired Max’s hand, not sure why, when I looked at him, he just grinned back. The groom’s party took their places and after a barely fifteen minute wait the organ halted in its supply of sound to be replaced by the opening chords of Wagner’s Bridal March. The buzz of voices dropped as everyone rose to their feet, I let Max steady me – hey, girls prerogative okay?

The bridal procession started, young Saskia leading the way doing the petal thing ahead of a mere four bridesmaids. The Duke and Serephena followed steadily behind and finally Sophia, the Matron of Honour bringing up the rear. I hadn’t even thought of what part she’d be taking today, just glad that I would just be playing a bit part, a mere member of the audience to the betrothal.

You know the score of course, bit of singing, words from the minister, exchange of vows and all the ensuing guff. Well today was no different – why would it be? The bride looked radiant of course, Saskia managed not to disturb affairs despite her growing impatience with standing still.
They did the ring bit and the newly weds went off for the register thing, the choir struck up with Ave Maria and whilst not exactly a fan of choral music I started humming along. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

‘Ave, ave dominus
Dominus tecum
Benedicta tu in muli eribus
Et benedictus
Et benedictus fructus ventris
Ventris tuae, Jesus
Ave Maria’

The organist did a twiddly bit before the singing picked up again.

‘Ave Maria
Mater dei
Ora pro nobis peccatoribus
Ora pro nobis
Ora, ora pro nobis peccatoribus’

I smiled to myself.

‘Et in hira mortis nostrae
Et in hira mortis nostrae
Et in hira mortis nostrae
Ave Maria’

I opened my eyes as the organ chords faded to find half the congregation apparently staring at me before a smattering of polite applause echoed around the Dom.

"Er.”
"I didn’t know you sang, Gaby,” Wilhelm noted.
“She did sing the solo at Weihnachts,” Max put in.
"I er.”
"That was beautiful, dear,” Gran, Max’s Gran that is added from beyond said lummox.

I'm sure my face was clashing something terrible with my dress which, if you remember, is yellow.

"I didn’t realise I was singing.”
"Well it was either you or a very good ventriloquist,” Max chuckled.

Talk about wanting to crawl into a hole, the clapping stopped of course, another organ interlude filled the gap until Sara and her new husband returned to the waiting wedding party. I was more than happy to escape the containment of the cathedral even if it was only to join the photographic session outside.

 
"What’s with the singing?” Sophia queried as we were shuffled about by the photographer.
"Singing?”
"Oh come on, Gab, we could hear you in the presbytery.”
"I didn’t mean to, I mean I didn’t even realise I was singing.”
"Well the choirmaster is well put out, told papa he should’ve warned him there was a professional joining in.”
"I'm not...”
"Is there nothing you can’t do, Gaby Bond?” she posed.
“Um, ride a horse?”
"That could be arranged,” Soph chuckled.
"No thanks,” I allowed relaxing a little, "New Year’s was bad enough.”
"Oh well.”

 
The von Strechau’s and Taxis’ are close enough relations that once again we were included in the party that were transplanted across the city centre to the Rosenstein Gardens for the rest of the photography. Yeah, another poor couple will be lumbered with my mug all over their wedding photographs. At least it wasn’t as bad as Munich.

 
I was almost thankful when we returned to the hotel to change for the evening do, well after a light meal in the hotel restaurant. Tonight is the big bean-feast of course, last night was for family but you have, apparently to feed half the population after the nuptials. I bet Dad’s glad he won’t be doing this stuff for Jules anytime soon or for me ever!

The bun fight is taking place at the Neues Schloss back in the city centre so after a quick change into my formal frock and swapping my jewellery for the von Strechau diamonds I found myself waiting for our limousine – well you need an entrance apparently.

"You alright, Gab,” my lummox enquired.
"Yeah, why?”
"You’re shivering.”
"The air con is blowing cold,” I fudged.
"We can move,” he pointed out.
"Er look, the limo’s here.”

Not sure why I feel so flippin’ nervous, I mean I've been to posh do’s before.

 
It was as we waited our turn for the unloading zone that I realised the reason for my unease. Noticeable by their absence at this afternoon’s ceremony, the media were here in force this evening to capture the great and good at the society event of week. Another opportunity to make an appearance in Stern and Bild, just what I need.

"Sir, Miss!”

My escort turned us towards the questing voice and the bank of cameras. Yeah, deep joy. I flashed a smile, well I don’t want to look a moody cow do I, the next arrivals saved us from too long in front of the lenses and we escaped into the Neues Schloss.

 
Maddy Bell © 03.04.17

 

"Geez,” I allowed once we reached the function room, which of course involved a climb up to the first floor.

If last night was restrained and the ceremony earlier fairly plain they were making up for things this evening. Maybe its just the surroundings but it ‘felt’ posher just walking into the reception room, the men all in smart suits, women for the most part in ball gowns . Then the weirdness started.
As we walked in heads turned, conversations dropped to whispers and I'm pretty sure I saw several dips and bows.

"What the heck's going on?” I asked Max from the corner of my mouth.
"No idea, just keep smiling.”

Never have I been so happy to see someone as when Soph intercepted us.

"Wow, some entrance.”
"What’s going on?”
"Apart from you looking like royalty and being touted as the next Maria Callas?”
"Maria who?”
"You want a drink, Gab?” Max offered.
"Best get her something stiff,” Soph suggested.
"Usual please, Max.”

He set off in pursuit of alcohol leaving the two of us alone.

“I'm impressed, you’ve got him well trained, I might just have to steal him.”
"Er whatever, so who’s this Maria woman?”
"Oh,” Soph allowed refocussing, "Some old opera singer.”
"Opera singer?”
"You do remember the Domkirche earlier?”
"Erm.”
"You made quite an impression.”
“I didn’t mean to and like half this lot weren’t there anyhow.”
"Word gets around quickly in this town,” she grinned.
"Joy,” I sighed.

 
I was just about to request a second glass of champers when we were called to table – did I mention it’s a sit down meal this evening? Hopefully it’s a bit more than last night – I decimated my Gummi Bear supply last night. Instead of last night’s fairly casual table setting tonight it’s a more traditional arrangement of long tables.

"You aren’t going to start singing again are you?” Max asked as we waited for the soup to arrive.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
"Good, I won’t need the earplugs then.”
"Why you!” I slapped his shoulder.
"Ow!”
"Come off it, that didn’t hurt.”
"But it’d be less fun if I let you get away with it,” he went on defensively.
"Why you!”

 
Clearly the Duke of Thun & Taxis hadn’t skimped on this evening’s soirée, we worked our way through venison consommé and poached salmon before the main course of some sort of game bird. A palate cleansing sorbet followed before the cheese and coffee rounded out the meal. A bit rich for me but who’s complaining?

Of course we had to endure the usual speech stuff, I couldn’t help thinking the Best Man’s had been written by someone else. Thankfully the talking was quite brief and the dancing ensued, not a disco of course but formal waltzes and stuff. After all that food it’s just as well it wasn’t too energetic, somehow I ended up dancing with not just Max (duh) but his father, the Duke, some big wig from the local finance Landesamte and even briefly the groom – no British royals this time though.

“I need a rest,” I suggested to Maximilian.
"You want to, er disappear for a bit?” he proposed.
"We’ll be missed.”
“I doubt it, they’re all talking politics and art stuff.”
"Or both,” I added recalling the politico that I shared a waltz with.
"Come on then,” he grabbed my hand and led me out of the ball room.

 
"Shush!” I whispered after breaking our lip lock.
"What?”
"Someone’s outside.”

We both held our breaths as the sound of voices passed beyond our hidey hole, a tiny space full of cleaning supplies and equipment. I was currently perched on a pile of boxes, legs around Max so we can get, er closer. Eventually the corridor fell silent and we returned to our tonsil hockey for a bit.

"We should get back,” I suggested.
"Suppose so,” Max sighed before starting in on my neck.

To be honest stopping wasn’t what I wanted to do but some of the signals my brain was receiving were getting a bit worrying. Various girly bits were by now highly sensitive and craving attention which a) felt ‘wrong’ and b) I couldn’t service given my current mode of dress – well not easily! No, the best thing is to stop before things get out of hand.

"Down, Rover, we’ll be missed.”
"Who cares?”

Who indeed?

"Max, stop it,” I half heartedly mentioned as I felt something mounting.
Much to my body’s frustration the lummox chose that moment to follow instruction – grrr!

 
“There you are,” Soph announced, "Where’ve you been?”
"Around,” I suggested as I reapplied lippy to replace that kissed off by Max.
“I've been looking for you for ages,” she accused.
“I er needed a break, you know dancing in these,” I flicked out a stiletto shod foot.
"You should’ve worn flats,” she opined checking her own face in the gilded mirror of the ladies room.
"Er short arse,” I pointed out.
"Wouldn’t bother me.”
“I prefer not to get a crick in my neck dancing with your brother in law.”
"He is quite tall,” she agreed.
"You done?” I suggested gathering up my bag.
"Not quite.”

And before I knew what was happening she was doing her best to remove my just reapplied lip paint.

"Mmm!”

Okay, my experience with her at New Year should’ve given me some idea but this all out assault took me by surprise.

 
"You took your time,” Max stated.
"Er yeah.”
"Hi, Max,” Sophia beamed.

Max raised a brow, very James Bond, I mouthed ‘later’ back. I slipped an arm through Max’s and let myself be led back to the bun fight.

 
"So what was that all about earlier?” Max asked as we waited for his rents to join us for the taxi journey back to our beds.
"What?”
"Sophia,” he nudged.
"Er that,” what do I say, what do I feel about it? “I think she’d had a bit much to drink.”
"Must run in the family,” he hinted at the reason for our being in the capital of Baden Württemberg.

Well based on this evening I don’t think there’ll be a second shotgun wedding in the Taxis household, in fact I doubt there’ll even be a second wedding.

“I don’t think it’ll result in a repeat visit,” I suggested.
"Why not?” then I saw his expression change as the cogs fully engaged. "Oh, she likes girls. You and she?”
"One way attraction, she’s a crap kisser!”
"You make notes?”

Do I? Well I must admit my experience is quite limited, okay, very limited but there’s no doubt that Soph comes bottom of the table. Now Max and Toni, well I really need to do more research but does that mean I like boys, I thought I liked girls but clearly not in the same way. Soph was quite, er thorough, but I didn’t feel any of the same things I had with Max, I was glad to be ‘rescued’ by someone else coming into the rest room.

"No, course not.”
"Sounds interesting?” Gloria suggested as the senior members of the von Strechau household finally joined us.
"Just comparing dance partners,” Max filled.
"Ah yes, the conflict of every wedding.”

 
I slept the sleep of the dead, a combination of a long day, good food and not a little alcohol. Not that I was drunk or anything, merry maybe, but it all took a toll.

"Morning,” I offered finding Max and his dad in the breakfast room.
"Morning, Gab,” Max grinned.
"Gloria?” Wilhelm enquired.
"On her way,” I confirmed, taking a seat.
"Juice?” Max offered.
"Er please.”

Max set off, whilst I set about preparing myself to break fast.

"So, Gaby, you enjoy yourself?” Wilhelm asked.
"You mean apart from making myself look like an idiot in the church?”
"You didn’t make the idiot, far from it.”
"Well apart from that, it’s been er interesting.”
"Here you go,” Max enthusiastically plonked my juice down, "So you coming back with me and Dad?”
"Sorry?”
"Gran prefers the Cayenne over Dad’s Mercedes.”
“Right?”
"You can go back with Gloria and my mother if you like,” Wilhelm offered.
"Or come in the granny wagon,” Gloria added joining the table, "We do have to go back via Rothenburg to collect the rest of her luggage.”

Choices, choices

"Er perhaps I should go back with Max? I really should go training when I get home.”
"Don’t blame you,” she admitted.

 
I managed a decent breakfast, well it would be rude not to wouldn’t it? There wasn’t any great hurry, we’ve got all day really but our two cars pulled out of the hotel car park just turned nine.

My phone beeped with a new message, ‘? was y2d? C’.

Con, I felt a twinge of guilt as I looked out at the streets of Stuttgart beyond the windows. Maybe I should’ve cancelled, not come down here enjoying myself, eating, drinking – getting into mischief.

"Everything alright?” Max enquired.
"Er yeah, just Con.”

I tapped at the phones keys, ‘grt c u ltr’. I hit send, yeah, I'll pop round to the Thesing’s after training.
 
Maddy Bell © 04.04.17

 

The drive back to the Ahrtal was pretty uneventful, Wilhelm’s driving matching his wife’s use of the outside lane and a heavy right foot. The biggest difference was the route, straight up towards Frankfurt before picking up the E3 through the Westerwald. We did have a stop, somewhere south of Frankfurt, where we got lunch – it was actually a Dinea so whilst not four star Michelin, it was at least eatable!
With the lunch stop, oh and some roadworks past the airport it was after two when I got home to find no one about, well no cars or campers at least.

"Thanks for including me,” I offered to von Strechau senior.
"No problem, Gaby.”
Max had my cases under control and followed me up to the house.
"What have you got in here?”
"Only my dresses, er do you and your dad want coffee or something?”
"I'll go see.”

Well it’s only polite right. I heaved my bags inside and put the kettle on, well I need a decent cuppa anyhow.

"Dad’s gonna head home but I wouldn’t mind a cup.”
“‘Kay.” I shrugged.
He popped to the door and waved to his Dad before closing the door.
"Anything I can do?”
"Nah, sit.”

 
Quite how we got from coffee to oral gymnastics on the sofa I couldn’t really say, Max seemed quite happy when I sat on his lap and landed one on his lips in the kitchen. Not sure at what point I suggested somewhere more comfortable, that cupboard last night was not my ideal spot for a make out.

"Gaby?”
I shot up, "Sugar!”
"Gab, you home?”
"Who is it?”Max asked urgently.
“Mand, quick, in the office.”

He scuttled off the sofa and through the office door.

"In here.” I offered quickly pulling my cami back into place.
"You on your own?” de Vreen enquired appearing in the door.
"Er yeah, why?”
"Well there’s two cups in the sink.”
"One was there when I came in?”

Note to self, lock the door next time.

She shrugged, "We going training, I need to get back, I'm working the crepe trailer later – some thing down in Sinzig.”
"Er sure, I guess we can do a short session.”
"Suits.”

I got up and headed for the stairs only to hear Mand call into the living room, "You can go home now, Max!”
Bum, bum, bum!

 
Max had made himself scarce while we were changing so I avoided broaching the elephant, temporarily at least. We were on the climb up to Ramersbach, you know, the road south out of Ahrweiler, before I dared broach more than directions.

"Er, how did you know, Max...?” I ventured.
"Seriously?”
"Yeah, I know you didn’t see him.”
“His shoes were in the hall.”
I mentally did a head slap, “Really?”
"Good job I wasn’t your dad,” she sniggered.
"You won’t tell?”
"As if, so I take it he’s a good kisser?”
"Okay,” I allowed.
"So come on, let’s hear all the dirty details,” she prompted.

 
Forty kilometres later she’d had the edited highlights from Stuttgart (minus the cleaning cupboard) and I got a report on last night’s dinner at the Stube. Both the Hymer and A Klasse were there so I had to do an even more edited version of events for the rents. Mand went off to meet the Foch’s without eating, Mum rustled us up some sort of Spanish omelette things, enough after having a big plate of Rindsrouladen for lunch.

"Just going to Con’s,” I advised the rents after washing up.
"Don’t be too late,” Dad instructed.
"I won’t,” I promised, fingers crossed.
"And take a jacket, it’ll be cold later.”
"Yes, Mum,” I sighed.

 
"Never!” Con gasped.
"Straight up, I didn’t know what to do.”

I eased myself into a more comfortable position, the hip is certainly not healed enough to sit cross legged comfortably. We’d decamped to Con’s bedroom, I hardly want her rents hearing about my sexual encounters do I?

"I still can’t believe Mand caught you el flagrante,” con giggled.
"We weren’t,” I defended, "We were just snogging.”
"Yeah and I'm still a virgin.” she scoffed.
"You aren’t? You haven’t?” I mumbled.
"I'm not a nun.”
"You never said anything,” I half accused, a little miffed she hadn’t told me before.
"It was before you came, I was like thirteen.”
"Thirteen!”
“Keep it down, you don’t have to tell the world.”
"Soz, but like thirteen?”
She shrugged, "We were on holiday, the other girls on the campsite were doing it, so...”

I didn’t pursue things, she clearly didn’t want to elaborate and to be honest I wasn’t sure I needed to hear any more. Just goes to show that however well you think you know someone, they probably still have secrets. Maybe big secrets.

 
I stared up at the night sky, unable to get to sleep, my mind awash with the day’s events and revelations. My thoughts flitted from Con’s revelation to my own fumbling on the sofa with Max – I say fumbling as there was a bit more than kissing going on. By the time I finally dropped off I was nearly convinced that I'd done the deed with Max on some Spanish beach – get a grip girl!

 
Pssshhhissshhhhh. The Würsts spat and sizzled as I turned them on the hotplate, back to reality, no fancy jewellery, floaty dresses or, worse luck, hunky kiss monsters.

"Your mum said you were here.”
Jump? I nearly had a heart attack, “Max, what are you doing here?”
"You left your glasses in the car.”
"Glasses?”

He put my girly sunnies on the counter, well you don’t think I wear cycling specs all the time do you. These are more fashion statement than eye protection, forty euros in the Kaufhaus.

"Er thanks, you want coffee?”
He waggled his brows, “Hmm coffee.”
"There’s nothing else on offer,” I mentioned pointedly.
"Dang, Mand didn’t say anything did she?”
"Nah, we’re safe there, you want coffee or not?”

 
“Lover boy been keeping you company?” Con suggested when she arrived with the bread delivery half an hour later.
"No. Well maybe,” I admitted, "And we’re not a couple. how’d you know?”
"Saw him going back down through Mayschoß just now.”
“He was just dropping off my glasses.”
"Oh aye?”
“Really,” I waggled said eye-wear at her.
"If you insist.”

 
The rest of the day was notable for, well nothing really. We cooked, brewed, cleaned and chatted our way through the day. For the umpteenth time I had to give a trip report, edited again for Kristin – I should just record it and play it to everyone. I stayed til shutting time – well it was only fair given my days off, I caught the train down with Con even though I had ridden up.

 
"So come on,” P chivvied, "Spill.”
"Spill what?”

We were waiting for her dad to fetch us after Garde, he was going to be a bit late so we’d found a perch over by the fire station.

"Come on, Gab, three days away with your boyfriend, there has to be something.”
"We went to a wedding, with his parents,” I emphasised, "And how many times, he’s not my boyfriend!”
"Pah, semantics. I'll just ask Con.”
Oh no you don’t, "Alright I'll tell you.”
“Ha, knew it!” she crowed.

Geez, with friends like these who needs enemies, by the time I'm done half the valley will know some version of Gaby does Stuttgart!

 
She waggled her tongue at me.

"Ew! That is so wrong!”
"You don’t fancy some girl on girl?”
"As if!” I shot back.
"I really can’t believe you, snogging on the sofa.”
"Er, it was handy?”
"So much for the ice queen.”
"Ice queen?”
"You know, as in frigid.”
"I'm not frigid, who says that?”

It suddenly dawned on me that I was now bothered by the suggestion I don’t ‘put out’ as much as any suggestion I do. Flippin’ hormones.

"So we still going to the comic thing in Kӧln next week?”

Good question.

"I'll have to talk to Con, we’re supposed to be working.”
"You shouldn’t be working six days, you need some time off.”
"I guess,” I allowed, maybe I need to talk to Tomas and Therese.

 
"Did Max catch you earlier?” Mum asked as I flopped down at the opposite end of the sofa to where she was curled up in Dad’s lap.
"Er yeah, I left my sunnies in the car yesterday.”
"Oh, before I forget,” Dad mentioned, "Was speaking to Dave over at BC this afternoon.”
"Oh?”
“He’s not running Manchester this year.”

Well that confirms what Cav overheard.

"I've arranged for the A squad to be based in Germany for the summer instead.”
“Really?” Mand finally stirred from her drone like TV watching.
“Really,” Dad confirmed, "I've rented a house for them down in Neuweid.”
"Cool!” I offered.
“Hopefully we’ll get the rest of our lot down as well, Gret in particular needs different training.”

Well that's a turn up for the books – I wonder who’ll be coming?
 
Maddy Bell © 04.04.17

 

"So what do you reckon?”
"Well it’s okay by me,” Con allowed.
"You reckon your rents’ll go for it?”
"Guess we’ll find out later.”

I'd been giving Pia’s statement some thought, with my racing more pressure has fallen on Con’s shoulders. Oh I know she says she’s okay with it but it’s not fair really, and the next few weeks I'll be away and racing quite a bit. I guess we’ll have to see what our financiers think.

 
"So if I work during the week and Con does the weekends with a couple of weekdays off we should be covered, of course if I'm about I'll work at the weekend too,” I proposed.
“Con?” Therese asked.
"It’s okay for me but we’ll need someone else if we open Sundays.”
"Nen might do it,” I volunteered.
"I'll talk to Thomas later, we do need to get something sorted,” she agreed.
"Sorry to cause so much trouble.”
"We talked about this before, Gaby, we can work around things,” Therese told us.

One thing we had agreed on was next Saturday, both Con and I will be off for the AniCon in Kӧln. Therese will do the kiosk with Kris that day but we do need to sort out something more permanent.

 
"We got you guys tickets anyhow,” Steff advised.
"Great,” I allowed, "So what’s the plan?”
"Brig suggested we do that Lolita thing, I'm sure you’ve got something?”
"Er probably,” I admitted, "How about you?”
"Sure I can find something that’s not denim.”

I chuckled, it’s a bit of joke with the Angels that Steff has more denim than the rest of us put together.

"I'd best let Con know.”
“’Kay, talk later.”
"Laters!”

It’ll be just like old times, all the Angels out on a trip, hark at me with the old times! I did ask Mand if she wanted to come but she mumbled something about meeting people from school. I guess it’s not everyone’s taste parading around in silly costumes.

 
"That everything?” Dad asked when I plonked my kit bag into the Hymer’s entrance.
"Yes Dad,” I sighed, anyone would think I forget stuff.
“Dave!” Mum called out from the kitchen door, "You might want this.”
"Oops,” I allowed as she came down with the box containing our supplies.
Dad just grunted.

Yeah, tonight is our first proper overnight using the camper, we pick up Ron and Angela then continue on to some place beyond Kassel for the night. In the morning we’ve still got a bit of a drive to some place called Naumburg for the Sachsen Anhalt Jungen Grand Prix – another round of the season long junior series. We’ll meet up with the others when we get there, Josh and Tali caught a train down earlier today to overnight with the Luchow’s.

"Gab. Gab?”
"Er eh?”
"Are you listening,” Mum huffed, "I said don’t fall off this week.”
"I won’t,” I replied, wincing as I subconsciously felt the pain of my road rash all over again.
"Have a good trip, guys,” Mum offered, "See you in a fortnight.”
"Yeah, enjoy California.”

The olds exchanged farewells – they really should do that in private, then with a toot of the horn we were off.

 
We trundled along the almost empty concrete of the A38, we’d had a bit of a crawl away from Kassel but once on the Leipzig autobahn we’d returned to a better rate of progress.

"Two more junctions,” I supplied peering at the road atlas, "About fifteen K.”
"Urgh,” Mand allowed before letting rip with a big yawn.
"Nearly there,” Dad supplied, "Half an hour.”
"I'll be glad to stretch my legs,” Angela mentioned.
"Sorry,” Dad allowed, "I should’ve stopped at Kassel.”
"Sure we’ll live.”
"The restaurant will be open?” I queried.
"They said so when I rang,” Dad confirmed.

At least we get out of wearing the team ‘uniform’ dresses.

 
We’ve not done the camping thing for a couple of years so it was a bit of a novelty, not just for me but for everyone on board. At least it’s a camper so once we were parked and Dad got the thing levelled we were able to head straight to the restaurant. The Vier Jahreszeiten is perhaps a little pretentious as a camp ground eatery but the menu offered a reasonable selection of food.

By the time we’d eaten – we all did some variety of Italian, it was dark outside. It was a bit weird being out in the German countryside like this without the ‘security’ of bricks and mortar to return to. The campsite, whilst pretty full was quiet, the faint murmur of TV’s and conversation occasionally breaking the silence as we made our way back to the Hymer.

"What time in the morning, Dave,” Angela asked.
"It’s about an hour and a half from here, we should leave about eight.”
"Best sort out the breakfast stuff tonight then.”
"No rest for the wicked,” I groaned.
"And you’re very wicked,” Mand supplied.
"Ooo, tell me more,” Ron requested.
"Er nothing to tell,” I almost hissed making chopping motions towards Mand, the last thing I need is my little indiscretion becoming parental knowledge.

 
We survived the night waking to a significant morning mist – well I guess we are parked less than a hundred metres from a pretty big lake.

"Up and at ‘em!” Dad encouraged.
"Time is it?” I queried cracking as eye open.
"Ten past six, come on, coffee’s brewing.”

I guess you could argue that a hotel might be more comfortable, that the facilities would be better which might be true sometimes but I think we all slept well and Angela’s breakfast was the equal or better than the majority of hotels I've stayed in. we did have something of a bathroom overload mind, Ron and myself used the site facilities instead. By the time we were ready to depart the mist was burning off, a clear blue sky promising a warm day ahead.

 
"Good night?” Dieter asked poking his head through the door.
"Not bad,” Dad allowed, "Good trip over?”
"An early start but the roads were clear,” he allowed.

Unusually we’d been first to arrive at the race HQ, a scrubby bit of ground just outside of the town centre. Apparently there are changing rooms and so on in some sort of school building about a kilometre away – the camper comes into its own on days like this. The others filed in and soon Dad was giving us the 101.

 
“Questions?” Dad concluded.
"So there’s only one climb?” Tali queried.
"Proper climb,” the Boss man confirmed, "The climb back up here into Naumburg might be more important, especially on the run to the finish.”

We’ve got two fifty kilometre laps to do today, Dad reckons it could be quite fast given the terrain.

"Service?” Josh asked.
"There is neutral but we’ll be in the convoy with the bus, feed here in town at the end of the lap. So everyone happy?”
"I wouldn’t say happy,” Gret opined.

 
"So what happened last week man?” Josh asked in his usual blunt manner.
"Hit some gravel,” I offered taking a swig of water.
“Maybe we should sweep the course like?”
“Volunteering?”

The hum of six turbo trainers tends to restrict any conversation to a minimum of course so that was as far as we got on that one.

 
"And the defending champion, Gabrielle Bond,” the MC announced from almost next to me, I grimaced and waved to the small crowd, "So, Gaby, a good season so far?”
"Not bad,” I agreed into the microphone, "A few podiums.”
"Six wins and that Roubaix podium.”
"Something like that,” I agreed.
"Well good luck today,” *he concluded, "So the riders will get their briefing and then we’ll ask Herr Janowitz, leader of Saale Unstrüt Regional Forum to start this, the tenth edition of the Sachsen Anhalt Jungen Grand Prix.”

Thankfully he moved off and the Chief Commissaire started the usual pre race lecture – follow directions, keep to the right, signals for service. Probably the only pertinent bits today were warnings about tram tracks here in Naumburg, several level crossings and a tricky decent into some place called Bad Kösen.

A minute or so later the national flag dropped and we set off through the assembled supporters, their cheers of encouragement to friends and family members emboldened by several klaxons and cow bells. A flood of sky blue jerseys headed the field through the neutral zone, the rest of the field content to let the ‘girls in blue’ lead the way out of town. It was only after clattering over the railway crossing that others came through and racing commenced.

Our plan is simple, attack going into lap two, if that fails we’ve got a couple of other tilts at escape pencilled in. That’s our plan, however the first attack went within metres of our first river crossing with over 95 kilometres left to race. I spotted Innerthausen the other side of the peloton, he shook his head, clearly agreeing with my reading of the move.

 
The escapee lasted all of two kilometres as the speed of the bunch punched above thirty on the almost level, slightly wind assisted opening kilometres. Of course being a League event Paul wasn’t the only familiar face in the almost hundred rider field. I recognised at least a dozen quite handy riders hovering around the front of the tadpole.

Another move went as we negotiated another railway crossing, this time a potentially more dangerous six rider group. Josh was under orders to hold back until lap two so it fell to his girlfriend to supply the Apollinaris reply. Most of the field however seemed content to let the ladies worry about things, our limited response maybe not what some expected.

The leaders stretched their advantage a little, whilst I'm our protected rider again, we’re not going to chase down a break that we have covered. Of course in this stupid series leader’s jersey it’s easy for anyone to keep an eye on my movements, to be honest I could do without it. I think it was the fourth level crossing when a clattering and cursing behind alerted me to a coming together behind.

What the heck, I dropped a sprocket and sprinted ahead, not to escape but to lift the pace a little. Josh, acting as my wingman, took over the effort and we accelerated away surprisingly easily. Not that we were alone for long, Paul brought the chasers up to us, a quick word and Josh swung off – someone else can do the work!

Short though the effort had been, the peloton was seriously depleted, clearly the crash had split the field but the acceleration meant anyone behind was now even further adrift. We negotiated Bad Bibra and another set of rails and then we started the rolling, twisty five kilometre climb of the Lindenberg. I checked for my team mates, Gret, Mand, Josh – damn, where’s Roni?

The bunch was driven along at a stiff pace, I held tenth wheel comfortably although I was soon sweating under my helmet. Maybe I should get a number one, it would certainly keep me cooler on days like this. I hooked my glances in the top of my jersey, at least I get a bit more airflow over my fevered brow.

There was next to no shelter on the climb, instead I managed to sit in beside bigger riders – not difficult for me, who provided some shade. We made the summit and as the road started falling away into some woodland we reconnected with Tali’s group. The drop lost the most of the height we gained in five K’s in half that, a fast but twisting descent ending in a wide run out onto an undulating but well surfaced stretch albeit with a noticeable cross wind.

I cursed as a handy looking trio took off, guess it’s time to unleash the Waugh!
Maddy Bell © 06.04.17

 

"Control or move?” Josh queried.

Good question, we’re still about ten K short of the feed, if we move its a longer effort, control it and we might miss the pre feed escape opportunity.

"Move.”

Decision made I gave the others our relevant hand signal, wish I knew what’s happened to Ron. It came down to Mand to fill her shoes so to speak, it was to de Vreen’s wheel I attached myself when Josh powered up the road. It was an all out effort, Mand did her best limpet impersonation, the Toon stayed at full gas and the gap closed quickly.

 

We were almost in contact when Josh suddenly sat up, what the?

Screeching brakes alerted me to get the anchors on, within seconds there were the sounds of at least one bike on the deck. Josh dived to the left, Mand on his inside road wise – I found myself left with nowhere to go. I reflexively pumped and hopped the obstruction, bumping Josh as I then struggled to complete the turn myself – not again!

"Shit!” Mand exclaimed as Josh physically pushed me around the remaining corner.
"I’m guessing that was the corner they warned us about,” the Toon calmly stated.
"What the F happened?” I managed to get out.

As you know I'm not one for expletives so you can tell how shaken I was.

"You okay, Amanda?” Josh asked.
"Just about, we racing or what?”
"You still up for it, Bond?”
"Er yeah.” I allowed still a little dazed.

The third escapee was still ahead but not racing, we quickly caught up to him, it was Innerthausen.

"You racing, man?” Josh asked.
"If you are.”
"Let’s do it,” the German agreed.
"Any of ours?” Dieter asked preparing to stop the bus.
"Can’t see any oh hang on there’s Gret.”

They pulled up and Dave jumped out armed with spare wheels.

"Back wheel, its jammed,” Gret panted out.
"What happened,” Dave enquired as he took charge of wheel removal.
"Came round the corner and there were bikes everywhere, I just jammed the brakes on and this,” she shrugged as the wheel finally dropped free.
"Others?”
"Up ahead, Josh and Gab went off the front.”
“Right, your go.”

Gret swung herself back on the bike and Dave gave her a sticky push to get going, Dieter moving the van forward so Dave could quickly re-board. They followed Gret as she returned to the remnants of the peloton where Tali and Roni were waiting.

 

"What's up?” I asked Mand seeing her looking at her rear wheel as we crossed, we’d started a rotation as soon as we cleared the Bad Kösen place.
"Something with my back wheel, feels lumpy.”
"Looks okay,” I opined.
"I'll keep going for now,” she decided.

We can’t really afford to lose her, I hope it’s nothing major.

 

Naumburg sprung up ahead of us, I recognised the church tower, but with the recent turn of events there was no need to prepare an attack on the climb. In fact as we reached the start of said climb the neutral service came up – we’ve got some road at least.

We climbed quickly but not aggressively and soon we could see the feed zone, at least we won’t be fighting for our musettes.

"Mand, go on ahead, Angela’s got a spare wheel, we’ll hang on for you.”
"Okay,” she agreed before sprinting ahead.
"What’s she up to?” Innerthausen asked.
"Wheel change,” I supplied, "Bashed it or something on that corner.”
"I'll wait for her,” Josh volunteered.
“Paul?” I queried.
"It’s still fifty K,” he allowed.

 

By the time we departed the town once more we were all back together and working well. I reckon we can get to the finish, all of us, I reckon I've got the legs on our German companion in a sprint but what about Mand? It’s a concern, she’s got the better of me more than once in training so I'm not being paranoid – am I?

 

"There’s someone coming up,” Mand advised.

I of course looked behind but my view was blocked by the service bike.

"Josh, behind.” I advised.

He nodded in understanding, no point in panicking over a single addition to our ranks, one that will be more fatigued than any of us having had to chase for maybe ten kilometres. In fact we were almost at the site of the first falling off episode before contact was made. The jersey suggested he was fairly local, well from Chemnitz at least, we exchanged nods and wordlessly he joined our rotation.

Wordlessly we turned onto the big climb, the pace barely changing but about halfway up Mand left a gap and the two of us found ourselves distanced.

"Sorry, Gab,” Mand gasped.
"We’ll get back on,” I promised as I watched the lads continue to ride away from us.

The pair of us kept going but by the top the service bike was clearly debating whether to pass us. I glanced behind, well at least there’s no one else in sight.

"Come on, Mand, let’s get ‘em!”

I dropped it into a higher gear as we started downhill, slow ‘em down Josh!

 

They have more gravity effect but we’re more aero which worked to our advantage rather than theirs, I'm sure Josh riding anchor was aiding our return too. By the time we reached the foot of the main descent we were almost back in contention. We made the connection on what I recognised as the approach to ‘that’ corner, I'm sure Paul at least was giving it more respect this time through.

We descended into the village and Paul was clearly preparing for the finale, our nameless companion meanwhile was playing it cool. With road running out I still didn’t have a plan, Josh is supposed to try taking their sting by an effort on the climb but will that be enough to swing it? The decision, not for the first time today, was taken from our control as ‘Chemnitz’ went for a long, long one literally as we hit the name board.

Paul had to go, our Apollinaris trio following behind. At the kilo board we were still adrift but as the gradient started to bite he lost ground and the gap closed. Josh was giving it a hundred and ten percent, Innerthausen just keeping in contact, as we came alongside Josh blew. Mand took over but she’s nowhere near as useful as the Toon so as we made the last corner I jumped wheels to the resurgent local.

Two hundred, one eighty, launch! I hugged the roadside for a bit of shelter but by now I was lengths clear of the others, I eased off a tad and allowed myself a quick glance behind. They hadn’t given up but I had time to punch the air in a two handed victory celebration before collapsing and steering breathlessly towards Sonja Luchow.

 

‘And in third place, riding for Apollinaris, Amanda de Vreen,’ the PA announced to the small crowd watching the presentation. that’ll teach Innerthausen to pay attention, she came past him on the line, we all cheered enthusiastically as she stepped onto the podium.

‘Second place, riding for Chemnitz Radteam ‘02, John Degenbold.’

I reckon we need to watch out for him in future.

‘And in first place, cementing her lead in the series, for Apollinaris, Gabrielle Bond!’

I took my place on the podium, shaking hands with Degenbold on the way, milking the applause of course.

 

The mums had located a restaurant for our post race meal a couple of streets away from race HQ so after utilising the Hymer’s shower facilities the ten of us headed for some nutrition.

"You find out what was up with Mand’s wheel Dad?”
"A big lump of tread missing off the tyre.”
"Must’ve been on that corner, I nearly lost it.”
"I can’t believe you didn’t notice your leg,” Tali mentioned.
Mand shrugged, "It didn’t hurt.”

I bet it will though, she’s got a right slice on her calf, must’ve been from the crash barrier I guess.

"Yours on the other hand, Greta, not sure what happened, the rim has split, one of the spokes has pulled out completely.”
"Don’t know your own strength eh,” Tali opined nudging G on the shoulder.

Our food arrived, to be honest I didn’t feel too hungry so I'd gone for a baked tater with cheese and salad – what turned up was two huge tubers with about a kilo of cheese and half a field of green stuff!

Everyone had a stupidly big meal in front of them, I think Josh was the only one to clear his plate in the end.

 

"Before we head to our homes, I've got some news,” Dad announced as we sipped at our coffee.
Once he had our attention he went on, "You’ll recall George made an agreement to work with British Cycling this season, well it’s not come to much so far apart from sponsoring Amanda’s presence here but from the end of this month we’ll be running a combined training camp from Neuwied just south of us on the Rhein. Their riders will ride pretty much the same programme as Apollinaris.”
He paused to gauge the reaction, "Now what I'd like, but it’s not compulsory, is for Gret, Tali and Josh to be based with them for at least part of the summer. We can then monitor training better and work on some of your weak areas.”
"What about Ron?” Mand asked.
"I've already spoken to Ron, she’ll be riding as a stagiere with the senior team when she finishes college in a few weeks.”
"Cool!” I allowed.
"Congrats,” Gret added.
"So we’re gonna be down to five again like?” Josh asked.
"Well the plan is to ‘recruit’ one of the GB riders whilst they’re here.”
"So we stay in this Neu wotsit place?” Tal asked.
"We’ve got a house organised, there’ll be someone cleaning but essentially it’ll be self catering – and there will be adult supervision,” he finished.
"Ah guess ah’m in like,” Josh told us.
"I don’t need to know today, I'll send the details through to you in the morning Dieter, and to your parents Tali.”
"Okay,” she allowed.

 

"So do you know what races you’ll be doing,” Mand quizzed.
"Not yet,” Ron told us.

We were playing pontoon, the Hymer makes activity other than sleeping much easier.

"We shall miss you in the races,” I mentioned.
"You’ll miss Mums cake,” Ron suggested.
“Possibly,” I allowed.
"I'm sure we can organise Torte supplies,” she chuckled.

 

We were of course making the whole return trip essentially in one go, well a toilet stop at Kassel and a longer break for coffee and some of Angela’s baking at Mettmann. The light was fading by the time we rejoined the autobahn system.

"Why didn’t you say anything about Roni?”
"It wasn’t time to,” Dad suggested.
"So how long...”
“Has it been planned? We’ve been talking about it since Christmas.”
"Christmas?” I almost shrieked.
"Would it have made any difference if you’d known?”
"I guess not,” I allowed.

It’s gonna be weird not going up to Mettmann, not having her backing me up in races and yes, not being privy to Angela’s culinary skills. The end of another era, first the Angels, school and now Apollinaris, where will it end?
 

Maddy Bell © 06.04.17

 

"Two coffee, one white one black,” I called back to Kris, "Three euros please.”

Its been mental today, not sure why but we’ve not stopped since mid morning. Coffee, sausages, Pommes – you name it they’ve been buying, in fact we’ve been cleaned out of our chicken pies, bang goes my lunch. I shouldn’t complain, its good to be busy right?

"This might explain things,” Con suggested returning from table clearing duties with a discarded newspaper.
"What?” I queried as I turned out another basket of deep fried potato.
"The Zeitung, here,” she thrust the rag at me.
“’Putting the Schnell back into Imbiss’,” I read out.
"Not a bad article,” Con opined as I scanned the words for myself.

To be fair there’s not a lot going on in the valley but even so the three photos and slightly rambling article was a most generous use of page space. We had a bit of extra custom after Gertie Schmidt’s piece but I guess that went out to the whole Mittel Rhein area while the Zeitung is much more local. Hmm, we should invite the paper guy along to the RTF, bit of free advertising.

"That the paper?” Kris queried, "I meant to mention we were in there.”
"When did it come out? we’ve not had one yet.”
"Saturday I think.”
"We always get it last,” Con mentioned.
"Lets hope this lot isn’t a one day wonder.”
"Yeah,” Con agreed, "You gonna get your lunch?”
"Can do,” I allowed, slightly mystified at Con’s sudden interest in me eating.

However the incessant putt, putt of a Mofa suggested she’d spotted who was riding it. I shovelled a good portion of Frites and a couple of Würst onto a plate, added a good dollop of mayo and grabbed some cutlery.

"Here,” Kris stuffed two bottles of pop under my arm with an amused grin.

 
"Hey Gabs,” the lummox offered as I headed to the only spare table left in ‘Gab’s Garden’.
"Here,” I offered him a fork and the bottle of cola.
"Er right,” he allowed.
"Well sit then, everyone’s watching,” I observed.
"Oh, right,” he managed taking the seat opposite, "So er how did it go yesterday?”
"Okay,” I supplied dipping my Bratwürst in the mayo.
"Really?” Max grimaced.
"You want me, you get my foibles too,” I suggested. Did I actually say that?
"Er right, so just okay?”
"Top step, Mand got third. Dig in, I'm not eating this lot on my own.”
“’Kay, top step?”
"Of the podium?” I clarified, "As in first place.”
"Cool,” his take on the use of mayo on his food is more traditional – a good load on his forkful of Pommes.
"So what’re you doing?”
"Eating my girlfriends lunch?”
"Dimwit, why are you here?”
"Can’t I just come to see you?”
"You came down from Kreuzberg,” I pointed out.
"Oh that.”

I speared a few more fries and started nibbling them.

"Just been up to the stables.”
I raised my eyebrows, "Didn’t know you rode.”
"I don’t, well I can of course, its Mum’s horse.”
"Didn’t know she rode either.”
"Ha,” he took a swig from his bottle of pop, "You might have the amber but there's still plenty you don’t know about us.”
"Apparently,” I allowed, "So this Pferde?”
"Oh yeah, needed shoeing, so I got volunteered to sort stuff.”
"You shoed the horse?” I gaped.
"Dur, not me, the Schmied of course, I had to get Marmaduke out of his box.”
"Er right, whatever that means.”
"I'll have to take you riding sometime.”
"When hell freezes, once was enough.”
"You’ve ridden?”
"With Sara and Soph at New Year, thought my bum would never recover.”

Max chuckled at that.

"Not funny!” I complained.
"The kiosk’s busy.”
"Yeah, there’s an article on the opening in this months Zeitung.”
"That’s cool, you need a ride home later?”
"Got my bike.”
He shrugged, "Another time.”
"Yeah,” I sort of agreed.

 
"Gab?”
"Hmm?”
"I said, see you later,” Kris offered.
"Er right, yeah.”
"Tschussie!”
"Tschuss.”
"We’re gonna have to ban Max,” Con suggested.
"Ban, what for?”
"You’ve been away with the fairies since he was here.”
"Have not.”
"If you say so,” she snorted.
"I haven’t have I?”
"Anyone would think you two are a couple.”
"We’re...”
"Not a couple, I know, I hear it every time his name’s mentioned,” she interrupted. "So what’s he got you mooning about this time?”
"Er nothing,” I hurriedly filled.

Well not actually nothing, I mean its every girls dream right, the white horse, shining armour and stuff, right? I guess his mofa doesn’t quite qualify as a caparisoned charger does it? Oh well.

"Did you know the von Strechau’s keep horses?”
"Doesn’t surprise me, twenty one.”
"You ever been riding?”
"Went a few times when I was about eight, fell off and broke my arm.”
"Maybe I should learn,” I mused.
"You fall off your bike more times than enough, you’d kill yourself.”
"Yeah.”

 
"So if you do the fall thing again Susan.”

Susan gave her fellow cheerleaders a dirty look, they managed to drop her last time we did it.

"They will hold you this time,” I suggested pointedly, "So from the top.”

Whilst the next cheer competition isn’t for a few weeks, we still need to practice and work on new moves.

 
"You alright Gab?” P asked.
"She’s been like this all afternoon according to Kris,” Mand supplied, “pizza!”

I ignored them of course.

"See?”
"She hit her head or something?” Pia suggested.
"Might be something to do with a certain lanky aristo.”
"We are not a couple.”
"I think you’re right,” Pia noted.

 
The door flew open.

"My lady.”
"Sir Strechau, how cometh thee?” I asked as I draped myself on his arm.
"My charger Beowulf brought me with all haste when news reached me my love.”
"What of my father?”
"He awaits your safe return at the Schloss. Come we must make haste before Ogidir awakes.”

With that he swept me into his arms, I barely had time to gather my skirts before he set off out of the tower. In moments I was sat side saddle ahead of him on Beowulf, he snapped the reigns and after an impressive Pesade , we took off across the countryside at a gallop. Across the meadows, through the forest into farmland we seemed to be almost flying.

The Schloss of my father came into sight at last but as we crossed a last field a menacing shadow overtook us.

"Sir Strechau, its Ogidir,” I quailed.
"I will protect you my lady.”

 
"Gaby!”
I awoke with a start, “um?”
"Its half past seven,” Dad advised with more than a hint of exasperation.
I snapped more fully into consciousness, "Sugar!”
"I'll give you a lift up,” Pater sighed.
"Er thanks,” I allowed, waiting for him to retreat before throwing the covers back – well I've only got a vest and knickers on, it was a bit warm last night alright.

 
"Alright?” Dad asked as we waited to join the main road having collected the kiosks supply of bread, pies and cake.
"Er yeah, sure, why?”
"You’ve been wool gathering all morning.”
"Er sorry.”
"What’s got into you kiddo?”
"Nothing,” I defended.
"If I didn’t know better I'd say its a boy, Max maybe?” he hinted.
"No!” I denied, "As if!”
"If you say so.”
"I was just wondering whether we’ll be as busy today.”
"Lets hope so eh?”
"Er yeah.”

 
I wonder if he’ll come up today, I hope so, I'll keep a couple of pies to one side in case. Hope he likes chicken. he’s a lad, he’ll eat anything! Wonder if we can sneak a quick snog today, we can hide in the bin shed – not sexy but it is private – ish.

 
"Get the door Gab.”
"Er yeah,” I shook myself back into the present and opened the door for Kris.
“’bout time, I was knocking on the shutter for ages,” she advised.
"Er sorry, I was in the back,” I suggested.

Come on Gab, you need to snap out of this, this malaise.

 
Maddy Bell © 07.04.17

 

Maximilian von flippin’ Strechau didn’t come to the kiosk, not at twelve, not at five past, not at one even so I reluctantly ate my pie on my own. Not that I was that bothered, why would I be? although a quick snog would be – well quite acceptable. I guess I'll live.

"So what’re you wearing Saturday?” Con enquired in a quiet spell – yeah it’s been another busy day.
"Saturday?”
“Kӧln, AniCon?” she hinted.
"Sugar, I forgot all about it,” I admitted.
"You need to get a grip, Gabs.”
"I have,” I pouted.
"Really? So you haven’t been mooning over a certain lad all day then?”
"I've not, Kris; I've not have I?”
"Er.”
"I arrest my case!” Con stated.
"Huh! So what’re you wearing?”
"Generic schoolgirl, I've got that short plaid skirt and the red jacket.”
"Thought we were doing Loli?”
"I look a right narna in cutesie stuff.”
I mentally went through her wardrobe, we’re BF’s after all, and put the outfit together, "Over knee socks,” I suggested.
"Nah, too warm, I've got some black knee highs.”
"That’ll work too.”
"You two are weird,” Kris opined.

 
"Gab, what are you up to?” Mand called up.
"Stuff.”
"We are supposed to be going training.”
"Yeah, yeah.”
A minute later she appeared in the doorway, "What on earth are you doing?”
"Looking for a costume for Saturday,” I advised inspecting the next thing on the pile of clothing.
"Can’t it wait?”
"I need to sort it.”
"What’s happening to you, Gab? First you start going gaga over a boy and now looking for a frock is more important than going training, that’s not the Gabrielle Bond I know.”
"Okay, okay, I'm coming,” I huffed.

 
"What do you reckon to this training camp thing?” Mand asked as we made our way along to Adenau – we’re doing the Ring loop this afternoon.
"Won’t really affect us will it?”
"Course it will, won’t be just the two of us training will it?”
"How do you work that?”
"Well we’ll be riding with Tali and that.”
"You might be, I've got a job if you remember.”
"I'm sure your dad’s thought of that.”
"Hmmph, might of,” I allowed.
"There’ll be more bods in the races too.”
“More competition too,” I observed, yeah I need to be racing against Cav every week like a hole in the head.
"Competition is good,” Mand stated.

Up to a point, I mused. Oh I'm sure I'll still be there for the girls’ prizes but repeats of Sunday’s podium are less likely, the BC lot won’t want to be racing for me, they’ll have their own targets. So a double edged sword for me.

"You losing interest?” Mand posed.
"In what?”
"Riding, you’ve been a bit distracted the last few weeks.”
"There’s been lots going on,” I supplied.
"You’ve never let it interfere before.”
"I've not missed any training.”
"But you’ve not been so enthusiastic, once upon a time you’d’ve been giving me a hard time all the way round.”
"You’ve got better.”
"Not that much, Gab.”

Have I really lost interest? Am I just freewheeling, using accumulated fitness and experience to get by? Maybe I do need to focus a bit more, I suppose I do have a fair bit on my plate what with one thing and another. Cheer, Garde, the kiosk oh and working at the Stube although that's only once a fortnight, racing’s still my main thing mind.

"Sign!”

I snapped my attention back to the now, Mand however was already lengths clear, with a sigh I just followed behind.

 
Well it ticked all the boxes, Loli, it fits, doesn’t need more than a quick iron and I've not worn it to a con here in Germany. It doesn’t stop it being saccharin sweet and something I'm not wearing on the train up to Kӧln. You might remember it, Mad made it for me to wear to that DonCon thing last summer, almost exactly a year ago in fact as it was just before the BC training camp in Manchester.

Of course I left it in Warsop but someone posted the whole kit and caboodle to Dernau while I was away. I never thought I'd wear it again – or the frilly bloomers and underskirt that go with it but never say never eh? Decision made I searched out suitable shoes – Mad hadn’t been that generous, before returning the pile of costumes to the back of my wardrobe.

Sorting the costume was just a temporary distraction, my thoughts quickly returned to a certain kissing partner and his absence from my presence today. Am I making too much of it, I've been quick in the past to mock others mooning over boys and here I am doing the self same thing. Maybe Max isn’t as enthused as me, after all I'm forever playing our ‘relationship’ down, denying in fact that there is one.

But here I am, bemoaning his absence on the strength of what? Three make out sessions last week. I turned the light off and lay back on the bed, the faint sounds of the TV the only thing breaking the silence. Should I ring Max? No get a grip, Gab, get a grip.

 
"So you sorted your costume,” Con asked as we unstacked the garden furniture.
"Yeah, a Loli outfit my cousin made me, Momo from some weird Manga , I won when I wore it before.”
"We aren’t competing Saturday are we?”
"Hadn’t thought about it, it’s not compulsory.”
"I guess not,” she allowed.
"So how are the figures this week?”
"Consistent last week, this week looks better so far.”
"Certainly seems busier,” I noted.

 
For Grockles, Wednesday is the pretty much the peak day, certainly for weekly visitors and so it proved today. The continuing good weather helps of course but it seems that we fulfil a need for the coach parties, an alternative to the more expensive restaurants nearby. Not sure if we’ve stolen customers or gained extra but whichever, it’s keeping us busy.

Last week at this time I was dressed to the nines at Sara’s wedding, a week later I'm back to short order cook, expertly frying Pommes and ladling Curry sauce over Bockwürst. Not much different eh?

“Frik with Pommes, Gab,” Con requested.

Yeah, not in the same room, let alone league.

 
"That smells good,” Dad suggested retrieving a beer from the crate by the back door.
"Thought I'd do Lasagne,” I replied stirring the stock into the pan of mince and ‘shrooms.
"I'd best clear the table then,” he opened his bottle of Krombacher and took a mouthful.
"It’ll be about half an hour,” I mentioned.
"Okay.”

He was replaced by de Vreen.

"Anything I can do?”
"Garlic bread,” I suggested, "There’s a couple of batons in the bread bin.”
“’Kay,” she allowed, "About yesterday, I didn’t mean to have a go at you.”
"Didn’t realise you had,” I fibbed.
"Look, Gab, it’s none of my business.”
Too right.
"But you’ve changed the last few weeks, this stuff with Max, well to be honest I'm a bit jealous.”
"Eh?”

I wasn’t expecting that.

"Well it all just happens for you, job – here run this for us, racing – just sit in we’ll do all the work, boyfriend – of course your highness. Er that supposed to be smoking?”
"Sugar,” a quick stir and a bit more stock rescued the situation.
"I don’t mean to be bitter or anything, it’s just, well this training camp is quite a big thing and like you were sort of putting it down.”
"I didn’t mean to.”
"Er where do you want this?”
“Just on the side there,” I waved my wooden spoon vaguely towards the worktop.
"Anyhow,” Mand pressed on, "I just wanted to clear the air and, well I won’t go on about Max any more. Friends?”
"Never weren’t,” I replied joining her in a hug, "Ooo.”
"Soz, your shoulder?”
"It’s still quite sore,” I admitted, "Best get this finished.”

 
In the end we had dinner on the back – well what could be finer than pasta served al fresco – Dad even broke out a bottle of the Sebenschuh’s finest. Jules made an appearance – she never seems to be at home much these days – not that I am either. Just sitting there on the patio, relaxing to the power of ten – and I don’t have to do the washing up!

 
"Still got the nose then,” Jules commented when I brought in the coffee stuff to add to the plates she was stacking in the dishwasher.
"Sorry?”
"Stud? Nose?”
"Oh,” I squinted down my nose, the tiny crystal sparkling back, "Er yeah.”
"Thought you’d’ve lost it by now.”
"Sort of forgot about it until you just said.”
"Yeah well I'm sorry, I should’ve asked before doing it.”
"Ancient history.”
"You ever tried a ring or something else in it?”
"Like I said, I forgot about it.”
"You should, it’d be so cute.”
"You do it then.”

I knew it was the wrong thing to say pretty much as soon as the words left my lips.

 
"It’s enormous.”
"No it’s not,” Jules insisted.
"Sure looks it to me.”

I looked along my nostril again, the ‘tiny’ gold hoop kept attracting my eye in a way the stud never has. Maybe it’s just that I'm more aware of it, I'm not convinced it’s really me mind. Mind you I thought the same about the stud when sister mine put it in.

 
Maddy Bell © 08.04.17

 

"What?”
"Nothing,” Con stated whilst giving me a weird, puzzled look.
"There’s something, have I got toothpaste in my hair or something?”
"Er no.”
"Well what are you looking at then?” I huffed.
"There’s something different about you today, can’t put a finger on it.”
"It’ll be the second head, just call me Zaphod .”
"Eh? Zafud?”
"Forget it,” I sighed, the reference to one of my favourite books completely lost on the Philistine.
“Kris,” Con called our assistant over, "What’s different with Gab today?”
"Apart from having showered?”
"Why you!” I mock threatened her with the slice.
"Just kidding, Boss Lady!”
"So?” Con pressed.
Kris looked me over, "Nothing ‘cept the nose ring.”
"She’s had it for months,” Con stated.
"Not the ring, looks cute by the way, Gab.”
"Oh yeah, I knew there was something,” Con agreed.
"Jules’ idea,” I sighed, "It’s huge isn’t it?”
"You kidding,” Kris opined, "It’s tiny, you can hardly see it.”
I focused on the curtain ring in my nose, "You sure? it looks huge from here.”
"Dur, it’s like a centimetre from your eye. Look in the mirror.”

I headed to where we’ve got a mirror fixed on the stock room wall and peered at my reflection. I guess it is pretty small, it’s certainly thin, more like a thick hair, a gold one mind, barely clearing my nostril. Okay, Jules, I'll let you off, it’s not huge and it does look, er pretty.

 

Put, put, put.

“Max alert!” Kris called out.

My heart gave a little flutter, calm down, Gabs.

"Hi, girls,” the Max one greeted.
"Bit early for lunch,” Con suggested.
Max shrugged, "Bottle of Coke®?”
I fetched the bottle and passed it to him, "You’ve not been by.”
"Dad’s had me whitewashing walls.”
"You can do mine anytime,” Kris flirted from my elbow.
“Kris!”
"Just saying.”
"Sorry about her,” I told the lummox.
"So,” he started, "I was wondering if you were doing anything later.”
"What had you got in mind?”
"Er, there’s a band on at the Goldene Rose, BlauHase I think. There’s food and stuff.”
"Wooo,” Con offered.
"Give over, you two,” I admonished.

A date. A band. Food. I'm sure snogging is in there too.

"Okay, what time?”
"Six?” he proposed.
"Half past,” I countered, well I've got to go training and get ready.
He shrugged, “’Kay.”
"Gab’s got a date,” Con crowed.
“Con,” I moaned.
"What sort of band, Max?” Kris queried.

I hadn’t even thought about that.

"Ralf reckons they’re a sort of rock metal crossover.”
“Very romantic,” Kris opined somewhat sarcastically.
"Well I'd best get off, Dad’ll wonder where I've got to.”
"Er later then.”
"Six thirty,” he confirmed before giving me a wink, slipping his cola bottle in a pocket and departing.
"Goldene Rose, eh?” Con mentioned with some eyebrow gymnastics.
"What about it?”
"Well you know what they say?”
"Er no,” I admitted.
"It’s a hotbed,” Kris filled in.
"Hotbed of what?”
"Well you know, stuff,” she added.

I rolled my eyes.

 

"Jules.”
"Wassup sprog?” she queried while mussing my hair.
"Geroff,” I ducked from her grasp, "Er you ever been to the Goldene Rose?”
"As in the bar up in Mayschoß?”
"Er yeah,” I agreed.
“Couple of times, why?”
"Er just curious what it’s like.”
"I wouldn’t tell Dad you’re going.”
"Who said I'm going?”
"Well duh. Why else would you want to know what it’s like? Date?”
"It’s not a date.”
"So who is it, oh let me guess, six foot, lives in a Schloss?”
“Might be,” I allowed.
"So who’s playing?”
"Blue Hare or something.”
"Hardcore!” my sister exclaimed.
"Is that good?”
"Pretty good music, I saw them with Boris up in Bonn as few weeks ago, just don’t get too near the stage, a bit of bier gets thrown about.”
"Great,” I sighed.
"Look, Sis, it’s a bit rough, drugs an’ that so be careful, eh?”
"Er yeah,” even more doubt creeping in.
"You want to borrow some stuff to go in?” she offered.
"Er sure,” I agreed.
"Ready!” Mand called out as she clattered down the stairs.
"I'll put it in your room,” Jules advised.
"Thanks.”

 

"What was that about?” Mand asked as we headed up to Esch.
"What?”
"Jules.”
"She’s lending me some stuff to wear tonight.”
"Tonight?”

Now who’s the parrot.

"I'm er going out to er see a band.”
"You coulda said, I'd have come.”
"Not alone, with Max.”
"Oh,” she sagged a bit.
"We can go another time, girls’ night out, eh?” I suggested.
"I guess, so where is wonder lips taking you?”

 

"Soz, training took a bit longer than I expected.”
"It’s okay, the band’s not on till half seven.”
"We’re off, Dad,” I called out.
"Don’t be too late.”
"We won’t, tschuss!”

I ushered my date out of the door and took a deep breath. As far as Dad knows we’re going to a party at one of Max’s friends and he hasn’t seen how I'm dressed. Just as well, it’s a bit, er, edgy.

"You look nice,” Max offered as we headed for his Mofa, parked a bit up the road.
"If you say so.”
"You do,” he insisted.

Let’s just say at this point that it’s not what I’d’ve picked. Torn whale net tights, pleated mini skirt with some net thing underneath, several oversize vest things, leather jacket, Doc Martens – all in black and more black make-up than I own. For his part, Max was in skinny jeans and t shirt.

The Mofa complained vociferously on the ride up to Mayschoß, it’s a good job it’s almost flat or we’d have never got there. And let me tell you, it’s not comfortable riding side saddle on the luggage rack – even with your boyfriend’s jumper under your bum. We parked a street over and headed towards the venue.

 

The Goldene Rose, despite its idyllic sounding name, is actually more like the old miners welfare places back around Warsop. A low brick building in the middle of a dirt car park, a couple of brewery signs on the wall and a backlit name board over the door. A few older hatchbacks in various states of modification and maybe a dozen motorbikes suggested we were by no means the first to arrive.

I felt less awkward when ahead of us a group of other gig goers arrived in a battered old VW Sharan, the girls – well I think they were all girls, dressed in variants of my own outfit.

“Come on,” I urged Max.
"What?”

We caught up to them at the door and followed them inside, into the noisy and smoky bar. A big, leather clad, heavily tattooed individual seemed to be acting as doorman cum bouncer, cover charges were paid, hands stamp, I tried to act nonchalant when Max led the way to the bar.

"What do you want to drink?”
A quick assessment concluded that a dry white wouldn’t be a good choice, "Alco free bier?”
"Okay.”
"I'll get a table.”

 

"Not seen you before, here for the band?” a very pierced, tattooed and partially shaven headed woman stood over me.
"Er yeah,” I agreed, “my sister recommended them.”
"Good taste your sister, on your own?”
"Boyfriend,” I pointed to the bar.
She nodded, "Stay tight,” she did that sort of wink and click thing before moving off.
"Who was that?”
"Er no idea.”

He passed me a bottle of bier, no niceties like glasses here. I took a sip, eurgh!

"Alright?”
"Er yeah,” well I could hardly say otherwise could I?
"I'm just gonna use the facilities.”
"Er okay.”

I felt less than comfortable sat there on my own.

"Gab?”
"Yeah?”
"Thought it was you, the hair, the makeup threw me a bit, he brought you then?” Ralf pointlessly asked, plonking his own beer on the table before seating himself.

I might not be his biggest fan but for once I was glad to see him.

"We’re here,” I pointed out.

 

Maddy Bell © 08.04.17

 

“Ralf!” Max greeted his friend, having to almost shout over the canned music filling the bar.
"Baron!”
"So when’s this extravaganza start?”
Ralf shrugged, "When they’re ready I guess. Was just saying to Gab, didn’t recognise her in that stuff.”
"My sister,” I advised.
"The Goth I see on the Express yeah?”
Apparently she’s more famous than she thinks - "Er yeah, possibly.”
"Looking good.”

As if I need his approval!

The Goldene Rose was filling up, a mixture of bikers, punks and I suppose goths, talking, drinking and smoking. Ralf and Max chatted away, I perched on my chair sipping slowly at my bier, disgusting as it is.

"Nuther?” Ralf offered waving his empty bottle.

Max gave a thumbs up and his buddy departed to the bar.

 
"You never said Ralf was coming,” I loudly mentioned into Max’s ear.
"Thought I did,”
"Nope, anything else you didn’t mention?”
"Only how good you look.”

I felt the heat rise in my face.

 
"Here you go” Ralf cheerfully announced plonking bottles on the table.
"Cheers!” Max offered taking his and raising it to chink with Ralf, I followed suit before taking a sip – well it’s expected right?

The tinny music ceased and the PA squealed into life.

‘Bit late folks, their van broke but here they are, BlauHase!’
"Come on, guys,” Ralf urged, "Bring your drinks!”

I tugged at Max’s arm.

He leant down to hear me as the crowd whooped and cheered, "Wassup?”
“Jules said not to get too close to the stage.”
"You won’t see anything back here.”

Which was true enough. I shrugged, if it gets messy we can always move I guess.

‘Thanks Jorge, we are BlauHase!’

To more cheering and jeering, the band went straight into the high octane first number and the gig was on.

 
I'm not really into this sort of music, Jules has tried to ‘educate’ me from time to time but by the second number I was bouncing about like the rest of the audience – and the band. I've got no idea what the lyrics were about, the fact some of my fellow bouncers including Ralf, knew some of the words indicated some sort of following. They went from ‘song’ to ‘song’ with barely a pause, it seemed like just a few minutes had passed when the racket ceased.

‘Time for a break guys, fifteen minutes.’

The now dishevelled and sweaty crowd broke up, I needed a wee so made a beeline for the ladies where I joined the queue.

 
By the time I'd waited, weed and washed everyone was heading back to the stage for part two.

"Gab!”

I looked about and spotted Max.

"What took you?”

I just gave him a look.

“I got you a hot-dog,” he advised, thrusting said item toward me.
So this is the food, "Er thanks.”
I took a bite and followed him back to the expectant crowd, I found a spot off to one side where I could eat in relative peace.
‘Hope you’re all ready, let’s rock!’

The music cranked up and I discovered why my spot was empty – the adjacent speaker! I moved a bit which lessened the assault on my eardrums. I finished the sausage in a bun and found another bottle in my hand, oh well. The crowd were quite vocal by now and I swear I vaguely recognised some of the tunes.

Then I really did recognise one, it was a bit mucked about with but it was definitely old school Iron Maiden – Dad’s a bit of a closet rocker and he sometimes plays this stuff when he’s in the workshop. The lead singer was shaking his head in time to the beat and I found myself doing the same.

I knew these lyrics and I wasn’t the only one here tonight, I loudly, well to my ears, joined in bouncing to the rhythm. Through the opening stanzas then the band fell silent and the crowd screamed out the chorus,

‘Run to the hills, run for your lives
‘Run to the hills, run for your lives’
When BlauHase started up again I continued singing along enthusiastically,
‘Soldier blue in the barren wastes
Hunting and killing their game
Raping the women and wasting the men’

The familiar lyrics of Run to the Hills echoed soulfully around the room but by the final chorus’ it had gone strangely quiet with just the solid beat of the drums and screaming of the base filling the air.

‘Run to the hills, run for your lives
‘Run to the hills, run for your liiiivesssssssss’

I drew in a breath and the crowd started whooping and hollering.

‘Whoa, we have a new Nena Hagen here tonight, you want a job Erdbeere?’ the singer shouted towards me with a grin. Me?
"He means you,” Max shouted in my lug.
"Me?”
"You’ve done it again, Gabs.”

What have I done?

‘No,’ he shrugged, ‘just my luck, Berliner, Berliner!”

The bassist started a meandering solo and the crowd’s attention returned to the stage, I returned to my bottle.

 
"Eurgh!”
"You alright in there,” a female voice enquired.
"Eurgh!” I replied losing what must surely be the last of my stomach contents to the porcelain god.
"Gab, you okay?” Max asked from beyond the cubicle door.
"Urr,” I groaned.
"Out lover boy,” the female suggested.
“I'll be outside, Gab.”
"You can come out now.”

I scrabbled to my feet and flushed the lav before opening the door.

"Geez girl, how much did you have?”
"Er.”

It was a familiar face, one covered in piercings.

“Fritzi?”
"That’s me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

 
"You alright, Gab?” Max asked when I emerged from the ladies with Fritzi a few minutes later. I felt a bit better after a face wash even if that did mean having to repair my makeup.
“I think someone spiked her drink,” my saviour supplied.
"Spiked?”
"Sorry man, I didn’t know,” a clearly intoxicated Ralf stated.
"You did this?” Max spat at his friend.
"Thought it’d loosen her up for you,” he slurred.
"You got any more?” Fritzi demanded.
He pulled a bag from his jeans which Fritzi snatched from him, “I should call the Polizei.”
“I won’t do it again!” Ralf whined.
"Too right you won’t you flippin’ idiot,” Max shouted in his face, “I suggest you go.”

Ralf departed with a speed rarely seen in the inebriated.

 
"Everything alright?”

I looked up to see the BlauHase’ singer behind Fritzi.

"Er yeah, bit unwell,” I allowed.
“I'll leave you to it, if you’re still off in the morning come to the surgery, Gab,” Fritzi instructed.
"Yeah, okay.”
"You,” she poked Max’s chest, "Look after her.”
“I will, thanks.”
"So you in a band or something, Gaby?” Hase man asked, "Stefan by the way.”
"No?”
"You’ve got quite a voice.”
“I've told her before, she upstaged the choir at my cousin’s wedding last week,” Max supplied.
“Didn’t.” I tried to pout but failed.
“I can believe that,” Stefan mentioned, “I was serious earlier, if you ever fancy doing more singing come find us, can’t guarantee fame or fortune but we get regular gigs.”
“I'll er bear it in mind.”
"Here,” he passed me a card, “if you come see us again show this and tell them you’re my guest, right?”
"Er thanks.”
"No sweat, Erdbeere, best go, need to get the kit in the van.”

 
"Best get you home,” Max suggested.
“I guess.”

It’s a good job I wasn’t in heels, I was less than stable on my feet as Max guided me outside into the warm June evening. The sweet odour of weed clouded the entrance, even I know that smell, disgusting, I flapped my hands to clear the air.

Beep, beep!

"Oh sugar,” Max allowed.
"What?” I queried as I fumbled about getting my hair in an elastic.
"Your dad,” he sighed.
"Bum.” I agreed.

We crossed the car park to Mum’s A Klasse.

"Er hi, Dad.”
"Get in,” he ordered.
“I've got my bike,” Max mentioned.
“In,” Dad repeated,” you can fetch it tomorrow.”

Sensibly Max didn’t argue further instead following me into the back seat.

"Belts.”

I struggled to find the catch of course, my head still swimming some.

"How did you know we were here?”
"Your sister – she was a bit concerned about you coming to this place.”
"We’re adults,” I proposed.
"You’re sixteen and living in my house,” he pointed out engaging drive before setting us in motion.

 
Maddy Bell © 09.04.17

 

Max was dropped off at the Schloss, any ideas of tonsil hockey effectively stamped on by Dad’s appearance at the Goldene Rose. To be honest I was still feeling decidedly off, whether it was Ralf’s little ‘sweetener’ or the bier I couldn’t say, likely both but I was ready for up-chucking again by the time we got home. Dad had driven in silence, disapproval heavy in the air.
 

"Geez Gab, you look terrible,” my sister opined when I reached the kitchen.
"Thanks for dobbing us in.”
"I was worried about you sis, you look like you need coffee.”

I pulled out a chair and once sat buried my head in my arms.

"Sober her up please Jules, I'm going to bed,” Dad suggested.
"No lecture?” Jules asked.
"She won’t listen, you can try if you want. G’night.”
"Nite Dad.”

I groaned and waved a hand.

 
"So what happened? How much did you drink?” Jules requested plonking a mug of coffee in front of me.
I lifted my head, "Not the booze, Ralf put something in it.”
"The little shit!” my sister exploded.
"Felt off, threw up.”
"You sure it wasn’t the drink?”
"Fritzi there, checked me over, Ralf admitted doing it.”
"I'll rip his bits off, Max know about this?”
"Ut uh, look, don’t tell Dad, he’ll go ballistic.”
"You can’t let it go Gab, you coulda been raped or worse,” Jules fumed.
"Think Max’ll be looking after Ralf.”
"Hmmph? so how was the band?”
"Er, pretty good.”
"Bit on the metal side for me,” Jules advised.

I shrugged, I actually preferred that stuff.

"Look Gab, if you want to go to this stuff you can tag along with me an’ Bo,” she offered.
"Er thanks I guess.”
"You’ll have to get your own togs though, you need your own look.”
"I was thinking a few more piercings and a tattoo or two.”
"Dad really would go ballisto then.” she grinned.
"Yeah,” I agreed, managing a bit of a smile.

 
Dave checked the clock, ten past eleven, oh well, best get it out of the way. The phone rang half a dozen times before it was picked up.

“Hello?”
“Jen.”
“Dave, what’re you ringing at this time for?”
“Yeah sorry love but I needed someone to talk to.”
At the other end of the line his wife tensed, “what’s happened?”
“I’ve just picked Gaby up, from that pub up in Mayschoß.”
“She been drinking again?”
“That’s just it, i’m not sure she has, she looks well out of it.”
“You’re thinking drugs?” Jen filled in her husbands gaps. “she on her own?”
“She was with Max, he seemed pretty riled.”
“I bet, you need to talk to Wilhelm Dave.”
“What do we do about Gab?”
Jen drew a deep breath, “not sure love, give her some space I guess.”
“I’ve not had a rant you’ll be pleased to know.”
“Well that's something,” Jen allowed.
“I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Okay love, goodnight.”
“Nite.”

He returned the phone to the cradle and lay back on the bed. Is Gaby really experimenting with drugs? It doesn’t seem likely but the evidence is there. Have to pop round to see the Strechau’s tomorrow.

 
I didn’t sleep well, my head span and I broke out in a cold sweat, the bedclothes were soaked when my alarm finally roused me. A longer than usual shower brought me round some but I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror. Clearly Dad was no happier, we sat wordlessly over Frühstück – well I only managed half a cup of coffee.

He did give me a lift up to the kiosk but clearly I've got some bridge building to do. This softly softly approach of his is almost worse than previous groundings, at least you know the limits, but this. Its a good job he doesn’t know about the pills, I hate to think what he’d do.

 
"So?” Con queried.
"What?”
"Max, the hot date?” she pressed.
"It never got to the hot bit, Dad turned up to ‘rescue’ me.”
"Bum,” she allowed, "You look like, well not great.”
"Thanks friend!”
"Seriously Gab, your eyes are all bloodshot and you’ve got bags, how much did you drink?”
"Not much, honest.”
An eyebrow crept up her forehead, “really?”
"A couple of bottles of bier,” I didn’t want to admit to her I'd been drugged, maybe later but I still feel a) off and b) pretty stupid.
"You did see the band?”
"BlauHase?”
"Daft name,” my friend suggested.
"They were pretty cool, offered me a job,” I boasted.
"A job? What as, groupie?”
"Huh! If you must know as a singer,” I flicked a braid back over my shoulder.
"And just why would they do that?”
"I er sang along a bit?”
She rolled her eyes, "The Ahr Angel goes grunge, I hope you didn’t say yes?”
"Might’ve,” I teased, “’course I didn’t, I can’t sing for toffee.”
"Says she.”
"I don’t want to be a singer,” I protested.
"Well at least people know what you’re singing, I sound like a squawking goose!”
"You don’t.”
"Do, ot oh, here comes lover boy.”

I hadn’t heard his mofa.

 
"Where’s your bike?” I asked once we were out of the girls earshot.
"Just on my way to fetch it now, thought I'd check on you first.”
I went a bit squidgy inside before shrugging, "I'm okay, look sorry about Dad.”
“’S alright, its my fault for taking you there, Ralf said it was okay and I took his word.”
"That scumbag,” I spat, "How many other girls has he drugged?”
"I've er sort of dealt with him,” he mentioned, unconsciously rubbing his hand.
"What’ve you done? you’ve hit him haven’t you?” I accused.
"He gave you drugs, of course I hit him, maybe more than once,” he allowed.

I don’t agree with violence, I've always been a bit small to deal any and it rarely solves anything but sometimes…

"Come here you great lummox,” I ordered dragging him into a tight hug.

 
We were quite busy again – its tailed off a bit during the week but I reckon we’re doing quite well. Fritzi suggested I drink plenty, water not bier duh, to flush the drug from my system and by lunch I was certainly feeling better, my eyes less red, the bags less obvious. By lunch I was ravenous, I couldn’t face breakfast beyond coffee, I did myself a Schnitzel and a healthy pile of Pommes.

"Can I?” a familiar voice asked.

I looked up from my lunch to find Fritzi, in her work uniform sans metalwork, holding a cup of coffee.

"Um, sure.”

She settled herself on the chair opposite.

"About last night.”"Thanks for last night.” we both spoke at once.
"Sorry, you first,” Fritzi offered.
"I just wanted to say thanks for last night, I don’t know what i’d’ve done.”
"Your welcome.”
"How’d you know, you know the drug thing?”
"Unfortunately I've seen it happen before, when I saw your eyes I was pretty certain. You are lucky you aren’t good with alcohol, it could’ve been much worse if you hadn’t evacuated your stomach.”
"I thought it was just the booze,” I admitted, "Anyway thanks for looking out for me.”
"Wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t.”
"So what did you want to see me for?”
"Mostly to check you were okay, your ‘friend’ with the pills, well I spoke to a friend of mine in the Polizei, the bag of pills, there were several sorts not just the date rape but other nastier stuff too, he can expect a visit.”
"Nastier? One of my friends was drugged and raped for months by her boyfriend, she ended up pregnant in prison, how much nastier can you get?”
"In prison for being raped? is she okay now?” Fritzi asked with some concern.
"The prison was for trying to burn down the school, the whole thing has ruined her life. How much nastier than that?”
"As in dead, he could’ve easily killed you, oh not intentionally but unfortunately I've seen it happen...” she let that hang.

We sat in silence for a bit.

"I think Max beat him up this morning,” I allowed.
"Not the cleverest idea,” Fritzi noted, "But understandable.”
"What will the police do?”
"As I took the pills off him, unless he’s got more, just a verbal warning but he’ll be on their radar. You know him well?”
"Not really, just from school, he’s Max’s mate really, he suggested we go to the gig.”
"You sure Max wasn’t involved?”

Am I? To be honest it did cross my mind last night but no, he might be a dolt sometimes but potential rapist?

"Pretty sure.”
She finished her coffee, "Well I just wanted to check up on you, if you are at all unwell the next couple of days, ring 112 okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, "Thanks.”
She stood up, "Enjoy your lunch,” she leant over a nicked a chip, "Tschuss.”
"Er, tschuss.”

 
"That looked a bit intense,” Kris suggested when I returned to the cabin after clearing my food.
"I was a bit ill at the gig last night, she was just checking I was alright.”

I reckon she’s been taking lessons from Con as she did the eyebrow thing.

"I must change my doctor, I don’t get house calls.”
"She’s not the doctor,” I pointed out.
"Still.”

 
Hen dropped by late on to finalise stuff for the RTF in a fortnight, I'm kind of quite excited that we’re involved. by the time we finished with that, tidied and locked up, it was heading towards six, giving us ten minutes to get to the Bahnhof. Having been dropped off this morning sans bike its either a long walk or the train to get home.

"So you ready for tomorrow?” Con asked as we waited for the Express.
"Think so, Con, do you ever think about dying?”
"Dying? Not really, you’re morbid Gab, I suppose you do all the time?”
"No,” I replied a bit quickly, "Its just, well sometimes I do, you know with Claudia and stuff.”
"But she was ill for like years,” Con pointed out.
"It was still a shock.”
"I guess so,” she agreed.

But it wasn’t Claudia who’d set me off on this train of thought, horrible as it was to lose her like that. No, there was the thing the other week with the tractor – that really shook me up big style and then last night. Well not exactly last night but rather Fritzi’s words this afternoon, ‘as in dead, he could’ve easily killed you, oh not intentionally but unfortunately I've seen it happen...’

You see on the news reports of people dying, accidents, diseases and yes, drugs. But you don’t expect it to be you in that position, I didn’t go to the Goldene Rose expecting to take drugs – well maybe a bit of alcohol but you know what I mean. And then I've come within a smidge of being raped and or dying because someone else is an arsehole.

Angry? You bet I am, I hope Max hurt him and that the Polizei lock him up.

"Gab? Train?” Con mentioned.
"Er, oh right,” I returned my attention to the now and followed my BF onto the Zug.

 
Maddy Bell © 10.04.17