TG Universes & Series:
My Handy chirped from my handbag, “Mum?”
“Where are you?”
“Er,” I looked out of the window but couldn’t see anything past the reflection, “just coming to Remagen, why?”
“It’s chucking it down here, complete white out.”
“Great,” I sighed.
“You catching the Express back up?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Your dad’ll meet you at the station.”
“’Kay,” I agreed, there was no point in arguing that I do that same walk everyday.
“See you soon, kiddo, ciao!”
“Your dad?” Steff asked.
“Mum,” I corrected, “apparently it’s blowing a blizzard up the valley.”
“Great,” Nena, who has the longest walk from the train, moaned.
“Glad I borrowed Inge’s coat,” Pia mentioned.
“We’re here,” Brid stated as she reached for her own jacket.
The train was slowing but even so it takes a couple of minutes for it to pull to a halt, we were at the door by the time it jerked to a stop. The platform was wet, the snow swirling about but not settling under the canopy. The Express was on gleis four waiting with the doors open, we weren’t the only ones who hurried across to travel up the Ahrtal.
“Come on, girls, don’t hang about,” Myleen told us when we got to the Zug.
Well there was no danger of that, we were on and in our preferred seats in a trice, Myleen waved her stick thing, the doors closed and we were off.
“Been to the markets?”
“Bonn,” Con confirmed.
“Busy,” Steff advised.
“All the usual stuff, hats are big again,” Nena opined.
“I’ll have to go for a look,” Myleen told us.
“We’re doing a cabin in Ahrweiler next week, you should come and see us,” Pia promoted.
“You did it last year yes? I think Gaby was the Engel?” Myleen queried.
“Our Engel Gabrielle!” Brid chortled.
“We have Mittelalter costumes this year,” I put in.
“We are doing a coffee house,” Con told our audience.
“In that case I shall be sure to visit, I’d best check these other folks’ tickets.”
The train chugged its way up the line.
Mand tugged my sleeve, “Dernau.”
“This is us, catch you Monday,” I told the others.
“Take care,” Pia offered.
“And you guys,” Con replied.
“Be careful, girls,” Myleen suggested as the three of us stepped onto the platform.
“We will, nite!” I replied.
The platform was white over, about five centimetres of white stuff coating the surface with more falling in a determined fashion. I spotted Dad over by the bike park and prodded Mand in that direction.
“You didn’t have to come,” I advised.
“True but it’s what fathers do when their daughters are out, alright Connie?”
“Sure, Mr Bond.”
“Come on then, don’t want to catch a cold.”
The wind wasn’t strong but it was cold and even with the long skirt it got to places I thought insulated. By the time we’d walked to the road, waited for the snow plough to pass and crossed into the village one big draw back to not being a boy was making itself evident – yep, a need to empty my bladder! It might not’ve been useful for much but my thingy was convenient for emergency wee’s, I hope I can get home.
Dad of course had his full winter gear on including boots with those anti slip things on, we laughed when he bought them but he wasn’t the one slipping about in boots with a five centimetre heel. At one point all three of us were hanging onto him, okay maybe we were being a bit over dramatic but it was hardly a stroll in the park. There was a distinct lack of traffic; the only car that passed us was a Polizei 4X4 slowly making its way through the narrow streets.
“You round tomorrow, Gab?”
“We need to do the mince pies,” I noted.
“Come after lunch, Mand?”
“Think I’m supposed to be painting chairs,” she mentioned.
“Okay, thanks for walking us, Herr Bond.”
We trudged the remaining distance to Bond Acres, the flicker of Advent candles in several windows giving a surreal look to things. Short as our walk has been we were well covered by the white stuff, removal of which delayed our entry.
“Hang those coats up in the laundry,” Mum instructed.
“It’s pretty mucky out there,” Dad mentioned.
“I need a wee!” I announced as, barely pausing to remove my coat, I dived into the loo.
“I told Boris to stay over,” Mum advised as I returned to the kitchen to take off my borrowed footwear
Dad grunted at that, I’m pretty sure Jules is erm, sleeping with Boris but the rents don’t have to like it. They’re safe with me; there is just no way I’m doing anything like that with anyone, ever!
“You two eaten?” Mum enquired.
“We had stuff at the market,” Mand allowed returning from the laundry.
I gave Mand a look, “Something on toast?” I suggested.
“Ask Jules and Boris if they want anything.”
The lovebirds were in the lounge sharing one of the chairs.
“You guys want anything to eat?”
“Hi, Gabs,” Boris offered.
“Nice look, Sis.”
“Served a purpose, so you want food?”
“What is it?” Jules asked.
“Something on toast.”
“Please,” Boris requested.
“Yeah go on then,” Jules added.
By the time I returned to the kitchen Mum had the frying pan out and Mand was manning or is that girling the toaster.
“You’re in charge of drinks,” I was told.
“’Kay, where’s Dad?”
“Clearing the drive.”
“What for, it’s still snowing,” I pointed out.
“Er should I help, Frau Bond?” the Goth lover asked from behind me.
“You’re alright, Boris, no point in two of you getting cold and wet,” Mum opined, “you can take the eating irons through though.”
With impeccable timing Dad came back in just as Mum shovelled the eggs onto his plate.
“Smell’s good, I’ve got an appetite now.”
“We’re eating in the lounge, Wallander is on in five minutes.”
Great, I’m sure it’s fine in Swedish but badly dubbed into German…
The light wasn’t right when I woke up, bright but somehow muted. After doing the morning business I opened the Dormer and gave a very unladylike yelp as a cascade of white stuff dropped on me.
The muted light was the result of the coating of water crystals that coated everything outside, the sun was out but with the temperature distinctly the wrong side of 0°c the accumulation wasn’t going anywhere soon. The vineyards looked very – decorative with the sun glinting off the wintry covering, I could hear some kids playing but otherwise there was little beyond the cooing of the doves in next door’s dovecote. I carefully lowered the window so no more cold wet stuff dropped into the room – no bike ride this morning that’s for sure.
“What are you up to today?” Mum enquired when I made my way into the kitchen.
“Baking mince pies with Con,” I advised finding a plate to put my breakfast on.
“No, after lunch,” I speared a couple of slices of Bierwurst.
“Manda with you?”
“Painting chairs I think she said, no Dad?”
“Taking Boris down to Remagen for the train, they left just before you came down.”
“Never heard them.”
“Your dad took the car round to the square last thing last night.”
Well that answers that then.
“Turbo session?” she continued.
Well it is riding and if yesterday’s ride with Dad is anything to go by it will at least be less embarrassing than out on the road.
The noise in the garage was intense; Mum was on the rollers, Mand and I on the static trainers, there was no way to hold a conversation. We’d only been going for ten minutes but already I was quite warm and pulling my jersey off exposing my BH to the still cool air. So of course Mum was spinning away happily, Manda, by the tone of her set up, was doing a steady pace too – by comparison I was struggling to hold 25kph.
I had to give it best after forty minutes, my legs were like jelly and my breathing ragged – it’s going to be a long road back to full race fitness. As I sagged over my bars I vowed that I’d be back, better and stronger than before, yeah I might be a girl but I was a girl before wasn’t I?
Maddy Bell 09.02.16
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