It was best part of an hour before the throaty tones of the Hymer announced Mum’s arrival at the house. I shot up from my perch on one of the lounge sofas and nearly crashed into Mater as she ran into the building. After clamping onto her for a quick hug she directed us back into the lounge.
"Everyone okay? Tali?”
The replies were all non committal, okay is a bit subjective under the circumstances. Tali has spent most of the last hour sniffling in Gret’s arms.
"We’ve not heard anything since Mr Bond left,” Claire advised.
"Right, Gaby, kettle on, I need a cuppa even if no one else does, I'll see if I can get hold of your Dad.”
"I'll give you a hand,” Sal offered levering herself from her seat.
By the time we returned to the lounge bearing trays of hot beverages Mum was ending her call.
"So?” Mand eagerly asked.
She grabbed a mug of tea and took a sip before offering a reply.
"Well the good news is that no ones seriously hurt...”
"Phew!” Claire interrupted.
“...but,” Mum went on, which damped the rise in the rooms mood, "But they want to keep a couple of them in overnight as a precaution, the walking wounded should be back here shortly with Mike?”
"The mechanic,” I filled in.
"That makes sense,” Mum agreed, "Caro and Angela will come back with Dave once they’re settled.”
"So who are they keeping in?” Gret asked.
"He didn’t say, guess we find out when the others get here.”
I suppose another few minutes won’t make much difference.
"I bet they’ll be starving by now,” Laura suggested.
"Dinner’ll be cold by now,” Mand noted.
"You think,” I opined, "Come on Sal, you can give me a hand, you want something Mum?”
"Sandwich wouldn’t go amiss.”
"What’re we doing?” Sal asked as she followed me towards the dining room.
"Feeding the bent and battered.”
There are some things that on a subconscious level you just know or recognise, a smell, a feel or in this case a sound. there’s something about the noise of cycling cleats on hard floors that marks it apart from say someone wearing stilettos or football boots. Whatever it is, the sound of multiple wearers of cycling shoes in the entrance area was enough to alert the house that the ‘walking wounded’ were back from the Klinik.
I arrived in time to see Tali almost take out Josh.
"Easy up Hen.”
A quick head count revealed the missing to be Cav and Jamie although Darren was nursing a sling and clearly Josh and Geth were sporting dressings on what looked like a fair bit of road rash.
"I've done some food,” I offered.
"Great, I'm starving,” Daz cheerfully stated nearly taking another tumble as his shoes skated on the hard floor.
"Careful,” Mike warned, "Don’t want any more broken bones.”
"Broken bones?” Claire queried.
"Aye,” Josh advised, "Sling boys broke his shoulder.”
"Shouldn’t it be in plaster?” Sal suggested.
"Its only cracked,” Daz retorted.
By now everyone was in the dining room and a barrage of questions were being fired about.
“QUIET!”
The effect was immediate, like flipping a switch, once a teacher, always a teacher I guess.
"Right,” Mum went on, "Girls, lounge, that includes you Tali, Josh won’t disappear.”
“Mum?” I queried.
"Sort the food then leave them alone.”
“’Kay.”
The other adults arrived before the food was consumed and so we missed the story telling as Mum insisted we head home. So we all climbed into the A, they’ll sort out bikes and the camper tomorrow, and with Mum at the wheel set off home.
"So?” Mum asked as we joined the main road.
"They were lucky,” Dad started with a sigh, “van with a trailer pulled out on them over in Heimbach, they didn’t stand a chance of stopping.”
"Why are they keeping Jamie and Mark in?” Mand enquired.
"Jamie took a knock on the head, not much left of his helmet, Mark apparently did an impressive somersault, he’ll have some impressive bruises.”
"Been there,” I mentioned.”
"But nothing broken?” Mum suggested.
"Young Darren’s got a hairline in his scapula but apart from some ‘rash we got off very lightly.”
"What happened to you?” Mand dug.
"Car did the same to her in a club ten,” Mum supplied before I could reply, "She had to wear skirts for a couple of weeks.”
"So?” Mand pushed on.
"I thought I was a boy?”
"Oh right,” she allowed, "I can’t imagine you as a boy.”
"I was a boy at Manchester last year.”
"Only in your dreams, we’d all got you sussed.”
"You did? Why didn’t anyone say anything?”
"Not our business, it was fun watching the lads getting their bums kicked.”
Mum snorted from the front and Dad suddenly needed to blow his nose.
"So they still racing the weekend?”
"Well Darren’s out for a week, its not bad, just needs some rest, Mark might be a bit sore to ride but the others should be okay,” Dad suggested.
"Guess the bikes are trashed,” I suggested.
"Few bent wheels, Mark’s forks are trashed but its mostly paint by what Mike’s seen, looks like a busy day tomorrow.”
With Mum’s lead foot and an empty autobahn we were already dropping down into Ahrweiler barely thirty minutes after leaving Niederbieber. Even so it was after eleven so I headed straight for my eyrie when we got indoors – I have got work in the morning!
"You look crap,” Con announced.
"I love you too.”
"So what kept you up?” Nen asked.
"Its a long story.”
"We’re not exactly busy this morning,” Con pointed out.
And so I started in on a very much abridged version of last evenings events.
"That your Handy Gabs?”
I paused from scrapping the hot plate, sure enough it was the familiar ‘brring’ sounding from my bag.
"Who’s ringing at this time?” I mused aloud as I wiped hands.
"Well its not Max,” Nen offered, "He’s just arrived.”
I fished my Handy from its nest, "Bond?”
"Gaby? Its Doctor Martin, can you talk?”
I glanced at the others, "Hang on, I'll just go outside.”
I slipped out of the door and headed over to the low wall at the river bank, "Sorry, curious ears.”
"Connie Thesing,” my doctor surmised.
"Yeah,” I agreed.
"We’ve got your results back, you aren’t pregnant.”
I let out the longest of sighs.
"You alright?”
"Er yeah, just relieved I guess.”
"I wasn’t looking forward to facing your mother either.”
"You weren’t! I'd rather walk on hot coals!”
"I got them to do some other tests at the same time Gaby,” the Doc went on.
"Oh?”
"Well no point in wasting your red stuff, so you aren’t expecting but there are some anomalies which I think we need to check out.”
"Anomalies?”
"Its probably nothing, your white cell count is a little low, lots of things could cause it.”
"Is it serious?”
"Hopefully not, we can treat it at least but its best if we find out why, how are you fixed on Monday, I've an opening at five?”
"Er, should be okay, no wait, I have to lock up the kiosk at five.”
"Half past?”
I quickly calculated the journey time, if I ride up I can just about make that, "Er okay.”
"Right then, I'll see you Monday, bye.”
"Er tschuss.”
I broke the connection and stood staring at the rushing waters below, what now.
"Gab! You coming back?” Connie’s voice brought me back to the present.
"Er sure,” I agreed.
"Everything alright?”
"Just the surgery, women’s stuff.”
"You’re not pregnant are you?”
"Be daft! it’d have to be like the virgin birth,” I hurriedly joked.
"Yeah?”
"Yes, now come on, we haven’t got time to stand here gossiping.”
"You alright?” Max enquired as we sat down for lunch, "Nena said there was an accident last night?”
"Yeah, a truck pulled out on the lads.”
"They okay?”
"Few bumps and bruises.”
"Well that's good, so why do you look like a wet Sunday?”
"Just stuff.”
"Oh mein gott, you’re pregnant and its not mine!” he was struggling to hold a straight face.
"That is not even half way to being funny!” I mentioned giving him a firm prod in the arm.
"Ow!”
"I hardly touched you.”
"You don’t know you’re own strength,” he suggested rubbing his bicep.
"I do know you aren’t eating all those Frites.”
"I'm not?”
"Correct answer,” I grinned nicking several sticks of deep fried potato and popping them in my mouth.
"Hey!”
My mood was lifted, the only question now is how did both Max and Con land on pregnancy as a cause of my mood?
Maddy Bell © 04.07.17
"Hold iiiiiiiiiit aaaaand end!” Hannah instructed.
There was a collective sigh as a dozen young women relaxed after going through the Garde routine for the fourth time this evening. Cycling is very aerobic, cheering combines that and tunes your co-ordination but Garde is all about control, muscle and breathing.
"You look happy,” Han observed as I went through a few tension relieving stretches.
"Do I?”
"Hot date tonight?”
"As if!” I retorted.
"So what is it then?” she probed.
"Nothing.”
"Oh come on Gaby, I've known you long enough to spot a diversion.”
I sighed in resignation, "I had some good news earlier from my doctor.”
"Nothing serious I hope?”
Serious? Well depends how you look at it, pregnant isn’t a disease but it does sort of cramp your style somewhat!
"No, just checking the er lady bits.”
Thankfully she didn’t press for more detail, "Always good, so what’ve you got lined up this weekend?”
"Crappy little race on Sunday and shopping with Mum tomorrow.”
"Some mother daughter time eh?”
"Yeah,” I sighed in agreement.
"Where are you going? you don’t sound too enthusiastic?”
"Not sure and if you’d ever been in a car with her you’d know why.”
"Bit timid?”
"I wish! she’s a flippin’ maniac! And she’s now on about getting a Porsche.”
"What’s she got now?”
"The A Klasse.”
"They’re pretty nippy,” she opined.
"Especially with Mum at the wheel,” I moaned.
"You coming Gab?” Pia called across the hall, "Dad’s here.”
"Best go or I'll be walking.”
"Enjoy the shopping.”
"Yeah,” I allowed with a roll of the eyes, "See you Monday.”
"Take care.”
"Tschussie!”
"We’ll make an early start tomorrow,” Mum proposed as I slumped onto the sofa with my hot chocolate.
"Where are we going?”
"Thought we’d check out Centro1“
"That place in last months Stern?”
"Dunno about that, I don’t read the gossip mags,” she slyly stated.
"Well I was flicking through Con’s at work,” I gabbled in my defence.
"Its a big shopping centre like Meadowhall, up at Oberhausen.”
“’Kay,” I allowed – where’s Oberhausen?
"Leave about eight?” Mater suggested.
"Bang goes my lie in,” I groaned.
"Well it is best bit of two hours away,” Dad stuck in.
I sighed, "Whatever.”
"And wear something decent and do something with that hair.”
"Yes Mum.”
We weren’t the only early risers Saturday morning, Dad had Mand up just as early to go to the track session.
"You gonna be okay in them all day?” Mum queried.
"You said dress up,” I countered as I checked out how my legs look in the hall mirror. Five denier hose, ten centimetre heels, smart sleeveless dress, yep I look ace!
"I didn’t mean you had to look like the dogs.”
"One has to keep up appearances.”
"Your sister sent me a picture from last weekend.”
"She did?”
What’d she do that for? I slumped a bit, that was supposed to be an adult free zone.
“Right, we’re off,” Dad called from the back door, "Don’t spend all your mothers money Gab.”
"I'll try to.”
"See you later love,” Mum added, "Bye.”
"Take care!” he called back.
"I suggest you young lady change your shoes.”
"But I'll need to change then.”
"Well at least bring some flats to change into.”
"Yes Mum,” I allowed.
Its mostly autobahn to our destination which is up past Duisburg, which is past Düsseldorf, which is above Kӧln, its actually the A3 all the way from there. I slipped my silly dark glasses on before we set off despite it being a bit overcast, the less I can see of Mum’s driving the better. Thankfully the traffic was light out to the five six five but old lead foot soon had the needle nudging one seventy once we were on the A-bahn.
"So erm, what picture did Jules send you?”
"You were on the stage apparently singing Bohemian Rhapsody?”
Bum. "Er right.”
"You’re not going to run off to be on the stage?”
"Singing a couple of songs badly is hardly a basis for a career.”
"Oh I don’t know, some of that stuff your sister listens to is, to be kind, awful.”
"Er yeah,” I allowed, you can’t really argue with that.”
"So you gonna do some more?”
"Doubt it, I got conned into that.”
"Your sister says you were very good.”
"Well she’s deaf as a post,” I suggested.
"Just don’t take on too much eh, I don’t want you burning the candle at both ends.”
"No Mum.”
"I mean it Gab, we’ve got no problem, in theory, if you want to explore your options that way but just remember your other commitments.”
"I'm not gonna join BlauHase and run off.”
"BlauHase? Is that the band’s name?”
"Er yeah.”
"I suppose its no worse than Spandau Ballet, so what’s your stage name?”
"Mu-um,”
"Oh come on, you must have one.”
"Erdbeere,” I mumbled, Gaby Erdbeere.”
"Unusual, where did that come from?”
"My hair?” I suggested.
"So you’ll be sticking with the pink then?”
"No!”
"I just thought...”
Especially using the bus or the camper I've got used to trundling along at perhaps a hundred K, by comparison this feels like being strapped to a bullet.
"Do we have to go so fast?”
"We’re hardly moving.”
"We’re doing a hundred miles an hour,” I pointed out.
“Really?” she checked the speedo, "Guess so.”
"Aren’t you going to slow down?”
"Why?” she moved into lane two and moments later a Stuttgart Skate flew past leaving us for dead, "Now that's going fast.”
"Organ donor,” I suggested.
"I never took you for a scaredy cat.”
"I'm not, I'd just like to see my next birthday, watch that truck!”
She floored it and we slipped behind a five series to pass the slow moving horsebox.
"Mum!”
"Okay, okay, slow it is.”
The remaining distance was covered somewhat slower, I was actually glad for the roadworks around Kӧln and the traffic around the A46 junction as both made sure the speed stayed more sensible. We started to pick up more traffic around Duisburg, by the time we left the motorway system we were part of a slow moving snake of traffic apparently all having the same final destination. Thankfully its not far from the motorway, maybe half a kilometre so we were parked just after ten forty.
"You sure you’re okay in those stilts?” Mum queried again.
"Yeah, yeah.”
"Your funeral, come on then, we’ll get coffee before we hit the shops, ready?”
"I guess,” I allowed as I straightened my dress out using the car window as a mirror.
"I dunno.”
"What?”
"Who stole the scruffy shorts wearing kid and replaced her with a supermodel?”
"I'm too short to be a model.”
"Well come on Miss Leboutin, best join the hoi poloi.”
I slipped my glasses back onto my face and strutted after Mum toward the shopping complex.
Its certainly a big place, Centro that is, but despite the number of people in the air conditioned interior we didn’t have any trouble getting a table at one of those Costa Bomb coffee shops. On the way in I picked up a site map which I studied while Mum fetched our overpriced and not particularly great cups of caffeine.
"So where are we going after this?” Mum enquired.
"Dunno, we looking for anything in particular?”
"Well your sister’s birthday is coming up,” she suggested,” and I thought I might just treat my other daughter too.”
"What for?”
"Does there need to be a reason?”
"Guess not.”
"So what are we looking for?”
Well in that case, "I did see some shoes in Stern.”
"I thought you didn’t read it?” Mum opined.
"Well not all of it,” I allowed, "I was looking to see if anyone I know was in.”
"My daughter the society darling,” Mum allowed with a chuckle.
"Am not!”
"Well it wasn’t me on the cover.”
"I thought you didn’t read it?” I mentioned.
"Erika takes it, you have to read something when we’re on the road.”
"Hmm, if you say so.”
"So what shall we get your sister?”
Maddy Bell © 06.07.17
"I'll catch you up.”
“’Kay,” the young woman agreed.
Jen watched her daughter sashay, yep that's the word, sashay along the crowded walkway. No barging or dodging for Gaby, it was if she had a repel field around her, other shoppers just moved aside, even apologising when they did delay her progress. Was this really the awkward but enthusiastic child she and Dave had nurtured for the last sixteen years.
The poise, the walk, where does a sixteen year old learn that stuff, heck I'm nearly forty and can’t pull that off. Oh she can look and act like any other teen girl but even that picture from the gig that Juliette sent me, its not a boy or even a girl, no its a woman, a beautiful and confident woman up on that stage.
More than that, it was most definitely a young woman, not the slightly effeminate boy they’d both thought they were nurturing. Both she and Dave had beaten themselves up over that, it was Jen’s Mum who was the sound of reason on that count. It wasn’t so much they’d enforced a macho upbringing on the child as much as they’d been fairly ambivalent to any girlishness.
Their child’s friends had probably done more on that score than her parents, even as the doctors started hinting at the truth they’d not taken a particularly positive stance. But despite all that, the young woman, most definitely a woman not girl, walking ahead has turned out pretty well. Jen still felt some guilt at not being there for her daughters, maybe things might’ve turned out differently if she’d not been gallivanting around the globe but you can’t live on what if’s, you have to use what you get.
"Mum, what are you up to?” the youngster called back.
"Er just sending your Dad a text.”
I waited for Mum to catch up, she doesn’t get a second look despite being a double World Champion which isn’t really very fair.
"Finally.”
"I'm sorry if I held you up your highness,” Mum stated.
"Huh, can’t get the staff these days,” I hammed.
"No your majesty.”
This little by play turned a passing head or two of course, attention I wasn’t particularly keen on cultivating.
"Lets have a look in here,” I suggested.
Mum looked at the frontage before shrugging, "Whatever.”
‘Here’ was one of the flagship stores, Peek & Cloppenburg, an up market version of C&A. To be honest its not a shop I get into very often, it’s hardly teen queen fashion, try Tally or even H&M, no this is ‘adult’ stuff (not that sort of adult!), proper suits, more classic designs and certainly higher end brands than most of the department stores stock.
"Good morning ladies,” they even have a greeter!
"Morning, we’re looking for lingerie?” Mum suggested.
"Lingerie,” the chap allowed with a slight bow, "If you take the escalator to level two, one of my colleagues will be available to assist you.”
"Thank you,” Mum replied before leading me towards the bank of escalators.
I smiled at the greeter as I passed, exchanging a smile for another dip of his head.
"You don’t get that in Marks & Sparks,” Mum opined as we rode the staircase upwards.
"Its a bit showy.”
"I think that’s the point,” Mater offered.
"I guess.”
We stepped off the escalator onto O2 and we were almost immediately met by another assistant.
"Good morning, I'm Janice, I'll be your sales executive today, if you’d like to come this way please ladies,” she smiled, a twenty something wearing a smart suit and her hair in a neat chignon.
Mum looked at me, I looked at Mum and with a slight shrug we followed our self appointed assistant towards the undies. I've got better at these places but I still feel a bit embarrassed amongst all the frills and lace and as for the more er decorative stuff. The girls seem to take great delight in dragging me into Ann Summers in Bonn – crotchless knickers? Really, doesn’t that defeat their purpose? No such dodgy stuff in here, no this stuff is for the more discerning customer.
I hope Jules appreciates the deprivations we had to go through to get her birthday present! I'm not sure who they thought we were but after all their efforts, including another girl modelling stuff for us, we sort of felt obliged to buy something or things. So apart from Jules silk pyjamas and wrap Mum ended up with a sexy teddy and Max might get to see the lacy set I bought like never! I can’t believe how much we spent.
"So where to now?” Mum enquired as we exchanged unspoken er greetings with the door greeter as we left the store.
"Lunch?” I suggested, its been a long time since brekkie.
"Could do with losing these bags first.”
"I'm sure they’ve got one of those left shopping places in here somewhere.”
"Not a help if its too far,” Mum mentioned.
"There’s a board over there,” I advised spotting some other shoppers checking out said plan.
Turns out we were almost directly above said facility so we deposited our bags and started the search for lunch.
"How’re your feet?”
"Okay,” well to be honest they’re a bit sore but I'm not gonna let Mum know that am I?
I would’ve been content to’ve hit the food court, you know, queue up forever for some dubious food served in a polystyrene box then search for the elusive free table for fifteen minutes. But Mum had other ideas so here we are in the calm interior of La Concha, an Italian place with an interior no real Italian restaurant would recognise. Think of just about any Italian cliché and the designers have incorporated it into the décor.
"Laydeez,” our server returned with our drinks, inadequate glasses of ‘home made’ lemonade, "Are you ready to order?”
Mum looked at me with the question on her face.
"Er sure,” I allowed, "I'll have the Macaroni Pollo al Forno with the three bean salad.”
"Si, madame?”
"The Risotto with a green salad,” Mum supplied.
"Any starters?”
He’s got to be kidding.
"No thank you,” Mum advised.
He collected our menu’s and departed.
"Enjoying yourself?”
"I guess,” I allowed.
"We can look for those shoes this afternoon.”
"You already got me those undies.”
"And?”
Well I guess I'm not going to argue with free stuff.
I shrugged, "Okay.”
I loaded more chicken and pasta onto my spoon, “do you ever think about stuff like Thursday?”
"The accident?”
"Yeah,” I confirmed before spooning my food into the receptacle.
"Sometimes,” she allowed, "You can’t dwell on it too much or you’d never ride, I take it you have?”
I finished my mouthful, "Well its not like I've not had my fair share of spills is it?”
"A few,” she agreed, "It’s a dangerous occupation, we know that, as parents me and your Dad know that, but crossing the road is dangerous, wet floors are dangerous, there’s only so much we can do to mitigate that element of bike riding.”
"I guess.”
"You thinking of hanging up your wheels?”
Am I? Give up on something that has been so much of my life since – well forever. there’s always been bikes at our house, Mum’s, mine, even Dad and the Dark One have had a dabble, we used to go to York every year when I was small and of course there was Mum’s and then my racing. And for why? On the chance that I'm involved in a thousands to one incident?
"Well no, nothing like that.”
"Gab love, we wouldn’t think anything less of you if you did, just because I've made it my life doesn’t mean you have to.”
"So you’re alright with me becoming a pole dancer?”
"I guess we’d be a bit disappointed but if its what you wanted to do we’d support your decision. Your pasta’s going cold.”
"Er right.”
"So where do we find these shoes of yours?” Mum enquired as we returned to the clamour of the CentrO walkways.
"Er not sure, they were in a magazine.”
"Not helpful, what are we talking? Runners, sandals?”
"Er they’re heels.”
“Kids,” Mum mumbled, "Come on, lets go find these wonder shoes.”
Well you know what its like, you have a set idea what you’re looking for, in this instance the footwear I'd taken a shine to was a pair of black patent heels with an open vamp and a thin T bar to an ankle strap – oh and pointy toes. So of course we found shoes with various combinations of the features, wrong colour, too low, round toe, too many straps, not enough straps. I'm pretty sure Mum was getting a bit fed up to put it mildly although we did divert briefly when she spotted a summer frock she fancied for herself.
"One more shop, please? I promise we can give up then.”
"One more,” Mum agreed, "Then I need coffee before we head home.”
"I'll buy,” I suggested.
"I said yes already.”
"Thanks!” I allowed giving her a quick hug.
"So where to Princess?”
“P&C?”
"They do shoes?”
"Think so.”
"Go on then.”
We knew what to expect this time, it was a bit disappointing that the footwear department didn’t employ models like in lingerie but I suppose its not quite as simple.
"And what would Madame be looking for?”
"My daughter is looking for a specific shoe,” Mum advised Angela our footwear person.
I reeled off what I was in general terms, looking for.
"What size please?”
"These,” I indicated my beige heels, "Are thirty fives.”
"I think we may have something Miss, if you’ll excuse me a moment.”
She departed and I eased my feet free from their torture.
"Sounds hopeful,” Mum proposed.
"Er yeah,” I agreed as I rubbed at my toes to get some life back in them.
"Sore?”
"Okay I admit it, they are a bit.”
"I thought you’d have cried off by lunchtime.”
"Yeah well.”
Angela returned bearing not just one box but about six.
"I've brought a size up and down as well as the thirty five and there are two heel heights, eight and twelve,” she advised as she started to unwrap the first shoe.
Why didn’t we look here before?
Maddy Bell © 07.07.17
"I can’t believe I just paid almost two hundred Euro on a pair of shoes,” Mum repeated again as she slumped into one of the coffee shop’s sofas.
"I said I'd put in,” I offered once more as I separated my purse from my Handtasche.
"I know you did but I said they were going to be my treat and that's an end to it.”
"Two slices of torte then?” I suggested.
"My arm could be twisted.”
"Cappuccino?”
"Please,” she agreed.
To be honest I was equally shocked at the price, oh I know designer brands are expensive, a top pair of cycling shoes can be the same price but I'd, and I'm sure Mum too, had been thinking maybe fifty euro. Oh they are gorgeous shoes, after some debate I decided on the higher heels, they make my legs look longer and there was something else, oh yeah, I'm a short arse! On the plus side they are gorgeous – oh I said that already.
Mum put her cake fork down, "Do not tell your father how much I've spent today.”
"As if.”
"Well I suppose we ought to make a move then.”
"We need to collect the other stuff,” I reminded her.
"I know, I might be your mother but I'm not senile.”
"I never said you were.”
"Come on then Princess, your carriage awaits.”
"This is worse than Meadow Hell,” I sighed an hour later.
"No kidding,” Mum agreed.
Oh we’d collected the rest of our shopping and found the car within fifteen minutes but then we joined half of the NRW in trying to depart the extensive CentrO parking. So we’ve progressed maybe half a kilometre, in fits and starts but of course all the time more people are joining those trying to leave.
"How’re the feet?”
"Tired,” I allowed as I rubbed at my ankles.
"You’ve proved your point kidda, you can take them off if you want.”
"Er maybe I will.”
"Kids,” Mum sighed.
I reached down and eased my heels off before peeling off my footsies – oo that's nice. Yeah the air blowing into the foot well was bliss.
"I take it you have some occasion you wanted the shoes for?”
"Well nothing specific,” I had to admit, "Jules wedding?”
"That’s not going to be anytime soon and I've a feeling you’ll be Maid of Honour.”
"I am not wearing a meringue.”
"If your sister wants ‘meringues’ you’ll wear it,” Mum dictated.
"She wouldn’t would she?”
"I can’t imagine so but I never thought you’d be a clothes horse either.”
"I'm not.”
"Well whose are the designer frocks in your wardrobe, the drawer full of Wolford hose and the cupboard full of shoes you’ve got up there.
"Its not full.”
"Not far off.”
"How’d you know anyway?”
"I did your washing the other day.”
"Er right,” bum, hope she didn’t spot her birthday present, I never thought about hiding it.
"Ah, finally!”
Finally we moved out onto the exit roadway, the traffic signals causing so much delay now in sight.
As there are more of us than the lads, Mike the Mechanic was coming to Wuppertal with the girls staying there in the bigger BC bus, Caro and the lads are using the Apollinaris bus and Dad, Mand and me are in the camper. Oh and Mum’s driving over to give Caro a hand in Bitburg.
"We at the botanical gardens again then?” I asked as we trundled along the A1 the following morning.
"No, its somewhere near Oberbarmen.”
"I thought it was Wuppertal?” Mand queried.
"It is,” I pronounced, "Wuppertal is like saying London, its made up of several towns.”
"Along the Wupper valley I guess?”
"Yeah,” I confirmed, maybe being good at geography is useful sometimes.
"So this Oberbarmen place is one of the towns?”
"The furthest east,” Dad put in.
"I don’t suppose this circuit is flat,” Mand mused.
"Doubt it,” I supplied remembering previous visits to the area.
"Didn’t think so, hey is that our bus?”
"Looks like it,” Dad agreed easing off the gas and putting us onto the shoulder.
"Puncture,” Pater advised a couple of minutes later, "The others are coming on here, Mike’ll wait for the tyre people and follow on.”
"Best make some space,” I suggested as Dad rang the rescue service.
It was really more a case of moving our bags, the others were climbing on board by the time we’d done.
"Morning!”
"Hiya!”
There was a general exchange of greetings as Dad completed his call.
"Get yourselves sat,” Dad instructed as Tali pulled the door shut.
"Clear,” she called forward.
We pulled out onto the roadway, giving Mike a pip of the horn as we passed.
Our junction wasn’t much further and it seemed barely moments before we exchanged autobahn for B roads as we headed into Oberbarmen. Dad seemed to know where he was going and barely fifteen minutes after leaving the minibus we were parking by the event HQ, a car park on the edge of the Barmenwald according to the sign.
"I thought it was a Kirmes?” Gret mentioned.
"I think the fair is through the woods somewhere,” Dad advised, "Right, go and get yourselves signed on, Mand, Gaby if you can help the English girls.”
“’Kay, everyone got their licences?”
"Ga-bee!”
"Barb, Fran here?”
"Yeah, somewhere, who are this lot?” Fran motioned towards the collection of young women behind me.
"The rest of Apollinaris and the ones in white are English, they’re here on a training camp.”
"No Roni?”
"She’s not with us now,” I advised.
"No?”
"She’s riding with the senior squad for now.”
"Cool.”
"Heya Gab,” Fran greeted joining us, "You brought reinforcements?”
"They’re from England,” Barb advised.
"Sugar, got no chance now.”
"Course you have,” I interjected, "You’re as good as them.”
Well maybe, I don’t want to put my friends down – any of them, English or German.
"You reckon?” Fran pushed.
"You’ve been riding some good events this year,” I opined.
"I guess, so anyhow, what is the National Champion doing riding this?”
"I'm not the champion,” I pointed out.
"Well you will be in a fortnight,” Barb suggested.
"How do you work that out?”
"You are riding at Munich?”
"Er no idea.”
"You can’t let von Stuygen waltz it again.”
"Who’s she?”
"You must know her, comes from Passau.”
"Doesn’t ring any bells.”
"Hey Gab, gis a hand,” Mand called over in English.
"Looks like I'm needed, see you later.”
"Laters,” Barb agreed.
It didn’t take much to sort out the English, they’ve got International licences after all. I guess the woman manning the sign-on table was a bit out of her depth, its not exactly usual to get seven of them in a fairly small local Kirmes. And of course the UK licences are different to the German ones so mostly I was just translating the licence for her.
"All sorted?” Dad enquired when we drifted back to the Hymer.
"No Mike?” I asked.
"He rang a few minutes ago, the tyre people have only just got there.”
Despite being on his own, the Old Man had got the shelter up and was busy with the compressor and tyres.
He broke off to address us, "Everyone happy?”
"Gab got everything sorted,” Sal offered.
"We can go on the circuit for the next hour,” Gret supplied.
"Right then, get yourselves ready, you can warm up on the circuit okay?”
Everyone seemed happy with that and headed into the camper, well except me.
"What’s up Spud?” Dad asked as he returned to the wheels.
"Just wondered how we’re riding this, Fran and Barb are concerned we’ll just close it all down.”
"Those girls from down the road?”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "There are seven of us, there’s only like twenty odd in the girls race.”
"Hmm, leave it with me, go get ready, I'll talk to everyone before you go out.”
"Bit weird riding against Gret and Mand,” Tal suggested as we dropped down the back of the circuit.
"Should be better than just blocking everything.”
"I guess,” she sort of shrugged.
Dad’s split us into three teams, the BC girls are in one, Gret and Mand are team two and me and Tali are the third. Thing is, Dad says we’re not allowed to work together only with our team mates if that makes sense. Well I suppose it’ll make it more interesting for us, not sure how it helps the rest of the race much.
For this sort of race its quite a long circuit, two and a half kilometres, lapping strategies are unlikely to have success but the twists and climbs should allow for some excitement. Twenty laps so fifty kilometres – not a long race but I'm betting we’ll be done in by the finish. Oh and the roads a bit greasy in places under the trees, I've already had a bit of a squiggle and we aren’t racing yet.
We managed three laps before the officials pulled us in advance of the under fourteens race. They only do ten laps so we hung about to watch while we waited our turn, Dad distributed fresh bidons while Mike did last minute adjustments to our bikes. The race seemed to take forever but Dad gained our attention.
“Okay girls, enjoy yourselves out there, I want to see a busy race, remember no laps out, we’ve got wheels but you’ll need to work as teams if you need service.”
Great, lets just hope it doesn’t rain and wash out the grit.
Maddy Bell © 10.07.17
Paaaarp!
And we’re off. With no neutral zone the first few metres were a bit messy as a couple of dozen girls played variations of ‘Flip the Pedal’. The roadway was immediately sloping – not steeply but enough to help you on your way, no one seemed keen on pushing the pace just yet, well we’ve got a way to go yet.
Girls racing is reliant on a fairly small pool of riders, indeed I'm on at least nodding terms with everyone here today. The arrival of five new riders to such a small puddle is quite something, today’s new arrivals however have a bit more experience of unfamiliar riders. Anyhow the net result was a cautious start to proceedings, it took the steeper slope towards the bottom of the circuit to prompt any sort of racing.
Claire led us down through the trees, a snake of riders following in her wake, all cautious of the unknown. It wasn’t something planned but that simple act sparked a reaction, a reaction from Barb who with Fran on her wheel took over point. Mand moved up to join the leaders but, tempting as it is, I held my place around sixth wheel.
The road bobbled along around the bends then we turned onto the fairly steep ramp back up to the start / finish area. It was oh so tempting to let fly but there’s nineteen more laps to go so I held myself back, even when Sal had a dig through the hairpins. There wasn’t exactly a reaction to her move just a general continuation of the pace rather than the usual easing off towards the summit.
Claire and Laura weren’t really positioned to do any blocking so whilst Sal led through the end of the lap we were breathing down her neck. And so a pattern was set, tentative attacks, well more feelers really as everyone got the measure of each other. We shed a few riders in the process, nothing new there, all of Team Apollinaris / BC were still present, lets face it, we are all internationals, few of the rest have even ridden outside of our region.
"How long we playing yoyo’s?” Tal queried leaning over to keep our conversation sort of private.
"You want a dig?”
"This is getting a bit boring.”
Well no arguing that and we are coming up to the mid point.
"You? Me?”
"Both of us?”
"Works for me, next time on the ramp.”
"Done.”
As we were already on the descent that meant our move would be in less than a kilometre so I stuffed half an energy bar in my mouth before taking a decent swig from a bidon. Then it was a case of trying to make my shoe check look idle as I allowed myself to slide backwards in the group.
Once again we turned onto the ramp but this time as everyone else changed down, I, and Tali stood on the pedals and accelerated. I was pretty much past the head of the peloton and approaching the first turn before there was a reaction. Between the rather un ladylike curses and crashed gear changes the bunch exploded.
Well I'm sort of committed now, I kept up the workload through the second bend only returning to the saddle as the grade eased off a tad. Tal came through to share the pace setting, as I went to swing onto her wheel I almost side swiped Claire. I allowed myself a quick look behind then, Fran was just a handful of metres behind with Gret and Laura in close attendance, hmm, six, a useful size for a breakaway.
Round through the end of the lap we were pretty much a group.
"Nice move,” Dad called out as he clapped us past, "One at fifty.”
"Go GB,” Mike added.
So we’ve got a chaser then.
Obviously five of us have trained and raced together, it was a no brainer for us to start working together – I know what Dad said but it’d be daft if we worked against each other. Oh we certainly didn’t exclude Fran who was clearly feeling a bit out of her comfort zone. For the first time we actually pushed on the descent, we might not have Josh to drag us along but Tali and Gret can do a fair job, remember the Ring a few weeks ago?
We eased a bit through the back of the circuit, I grabbed a bottle and took a slug before moving alongside Fran.
"Okay?”
"Yeah,” she panted.
"Said you were as good as these.”
"Don’t think so.”
"You’re here aren’t you?”
"Only just.”
"Get a drink before the hill,” I advised, seeing her lick dry lips.
“’Kay,” she agreed reaching for her own bidon.
We safely negotiated the twists and turns then we were on the climb again. It was a calmer ascent this time, not slow, just less frenetic. The first turn allowed a quick look back down the first ramp, is that two riders? I couldn’t say for sure but however many there are they were over two hundred behind us.
Our little group was threatening to self destruct after the second turn – not good this far out.
"Easy!” I called forward.
Tal dropped her pace a bit and you could almost feel the relief flowing from Fran and Sally. The slight loss of speed was enough to see us turn onto the finish straight pretty much all together, well I dangled a length off the back.
“Keep it steady!” Dad shouted.
I gave a finger wave in reply.
"We taking this to the finish?” Tal queried as she joined me off the back.
"Unless someone else has ideas, you wanting a bash?”
"Nah, Gret and the blonde look a bit itchy though.”
Indeed Sal is broadcasting her intentions quite loudly, will Laura try blocking? And Gret, hmm she’s potentially a loose cannon.
"Pull the sting?” I suggested as we started the descent for the thirteenth time.
“’Kay, no time like the present,” Tal agreed.
"I'll go,” I told her.
I slammed it into the twelve and stood for a quick blast before getting into an aero tuck. Despite my size, or perhaps because of it I'm pretty good at descending, I was quickly pedalled out and relying on position to maintain speed. A dab of the brakes skimmed enough speed off to get around the first right hander then pedal back up, wide for the sharp left and….
From the cool expert I became uncontrolled missile in a moment. It happened so fast I couldn’t say for sure what happened one second I'm heading into the bend, the next I was sliding towards the inner retaining wall.
"Ooof!” I allowed as I fetched up at the wall, my bike coming to rest a few metres further on.
Screeching brakes announced the chasers coming through, damn! A quick check revealed no serious damage so I scrambled to my feet, grabbed my steed and with a hop I was on my way. Well not quite, my chain was off, I reached down to hook it back by which time the chasers were on me.
"You okay?” Mand asked easing alongside.
"Yeah, came off on the bend.”
"Come on then, race to win and all that.”
The other rider turned out to be Barb and by the start of the climb we were working fairly well together.
Dad peered along the straight then checked his watch as we came along to him, "Thirty seconds!”
Well not too bad considering, question now is what’s happening up ahead?
You can’t win if you aren’t at the pointy end of things and you know me, I like to win. I pushed the pace on the descent again although I trimmed a bit more off for ‘that’ corner. Even so I had a little squiggle as my rear wheel caught some lubricant, must take a wider line through next time. The others shared the pace along to the climb, the leaders were just taking turn one as we hit the ramp, we’ve closed a bit but whether we can bridge the whole gap in six laps I couldn’t say.
We climbed steadily, my right shoulder complaining somewhat when I stood up around the turns, I guess the bruise is coming out. Barb and Mand were working well together, a little too well perhaps as I dropped off the back over the summit. Oh I was soon back on but I let Manda take the lead on the downhill, taking the opportunity to refuel.
I followed the others along the back of the circuit, no issues this time with grip and confidence restored I took over pace setting for the climb. Tal and co were no closer but there again we’d held station over the lap, it was less us not trying as them keeping up their effort. By the top it was Barb dangling off the back rather than me, I offered her the courtesy they gave last lap so we were all together with four to go.
The next two laps were much the same, no significant closing of the gap, I guess we aren’t gonna make it across.
"Twenty,” Dad advised as we started the penultimate circuit.
"Need a miracle,” Mand observed.
"There’s still a chance,” Barb suggested.
There’s always a chance I suppose.
When we reached the ramp it was to be greeted by the impossible, the leaders were only about a hundred metres in front.
"Looks like your Miracle Mand.”
"What’re they up to?” she returned.
"Dunno but lets not waste the opportunity.”
We all three dug deep on the climb, we gained a few extra metres but the summit effect meant we were still ten seconds back as we went through the bell. I took the lead on the drop, this time the others were in sight and providing quite the carrot. If they were aware of our pursuit they weren’t doing anything to avoid our joining them.
They were still clear through the back of the circuit, we hit the ramp still adrift by some fifty metres. I flicked my gear shift and with a deep breath hit the turbo.
It was only my arrival in their midst that provoked a response from the leaders, I'd like to say I shot past, left them for dead and won by a huge distance. But that wouldn’t be the truth, no, my effort to reach them severely hit my reserves and Laura was the only one who dropped back as they matched my speed. So that's the way of things then, we climbed as a group towards the summit, the two hundred banner hove into view and I quickly decided on a sprint tactic.
Mand coming past me threw me a little but it actually gave me an edge as the others reacted to her. I wanged it into top and started winding things up quickly overtaking Tal and closing the gap to the others. By a hundred to go we were pretty much five abreast, Mand going backwards, me forwards, the others seemingly equally matched.
The MC and the small crowd of supporters were yelling their support, not that I was paying any attention, my brain cells fixed on crossing the line first. I gave one last lunge forward and it was over, I hit the stoppers and once stopped, dropped to the grass. The blood was pounding around my head, I released my helmet and lay back, my eyes closed and let my breathing return to a more sensible level.
"Okay kiddo?” Dads voice asked from somewhere above me,
"Yeah, shoulder hurts a bit.”
"Gret said you came off, I wondered what happened.”
I pushed myself upright, wincing as pain lanced through my shoulder, "Oil or something, slid across the road and into a wall.”
"Looks like you’ve got some road rash,” he agreed.
"Who won?”
"Its a photo, lets let the medics check you out.”
“’Kay,” I agreed, letting him help me to my feet.
"It may be broken,” the paramedic suggested.
"Sugar,” I hissed.
"I'll strap it for now but you should get it x-rayed as soon as possible.”
"Okay, thanks,” Dad told her.
I emerged from the Johanniter tent with my arm in a sling and several dressings taped to arms, legs and somehow the back of my head.
"Geez, Gab,” Laura voiced the look on the others faces, "You all right?”
"I guess, couldn’t let the lads get all the attention, so who won?”
Maddy Bell © 11.07.17
"Gab!”
"Oh hi Fran,” I allowed heading to where she was stood with what I'm guessing is her family.
"How’s the shoulder?”
"Closed fracture, no riding or lifting this week,” I advised gingerly moving my be-slung arm.
"Bum and just before the championships too, oh sorry Gab, this is my Mum and Dad and this is Sebastian, my brother.”
There was an exchange of greetings before I could ask my own question.
"Er hi everyone, you seen any of my lot Fran?”
What’s going on, well its like this….
I hopped down from the stage, carefully of course.
"Right kiddo, Mike is taking the camper to this fair thing, we’ll meet there after we’ve got you sorted out.”
"Really?” I whined.
"Really, sooner we’ve got it checked out the sooner we can plan around the treatment.”
"I ‘spose, can I at least lose this soggy BH first?”
"Fran and Barb were on about the National Championships earlier.” I mentioned as we sat waiting in the casualty department of the Petrus Krankenhaus in Barmen fifteen minutes later.
"Uh huh.”
"I didn’t ride last year,” I noted.
"You were in Manchester.”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "I suppose it is quite a trip for one race.”
"It is,” he absently replied without looking up from the form he was filling in.
"So I guess we’re not going to England then?”
"England?”
"For the championships?” I hinted.
He finally looked away from the papers, "Course you’re riding the championships just not the British ones.”
"Eh?
"Caro’s taking the English back for the weekend to do them, they’re in Kent this year so its not too bad.”
"So what am I riding?”
"The German event of course.”
"How come?”
"Well you do race on a German licence and live here, it gets a bit complicated with residency and passports but you qualify to ride the German championships, you could ride for Germany instead of GB.”
"I could?”
"If you wanted to.”
"What about Mum?”
"Probably the same, never asked.”
"So we’re going to Munich?”
"Well its not Munich, its some place called Steingaden almost on the Austrian border.”
"We’ll have to set off Friday,” I suggested.
"We’re flying.”
"Flying?”
"Bondt!” a nurse called out cutting short our discourse.
And so here we are at the actual Lichtenplatz Kirmes only an hour and a half after departing for the hospital, yes its a broken clavicle but its not separated so there’s no surgery needed, just rest for a week or so, I need to get it checked next week. Anyhow, the others have been enjoying the fair while I've been getting treatment but I'm determined to score a würst before we head home.
"Quite a day,” Mand opined as we trundled back down the three after picking Angela up from Mettmann, she’s staying at ours tonight and going down to the house with Dad tomorrow.
"Yeah,” I sighed from my spot on one of the camper’s sofa’s.
We had our post race nosh at a pub restaurant near the Kirmes grounds so the others had gone straight from there back south while we looped around Wuppertal to pick up Angela.
"Nearly had you,” Mand went on.
"In your dreams!”
"Half a wheel,” she retorted.
Indeed she’s right about that, the photo was actually between her and Fran for second and third. It was close but I did have a broken shoulder at the time.
"Wonder how the lads got on?” she went on.
Bitburg, the Three Countries, I wouldn’t have a broken shoulder if I'd ridden that. Well maybe not.
"Suppose we’ll hear soon enough,” I allowed.
"What have you done now?” Mum queried when she saw my sling.
"Broken clav.”
"Go on, how did you manage that? Hi Angela.”
"Hi Jenny, I've brought cake.”
"I'll get the kettle on, you,” she pointed at me, "Go sit.”
"Yes Mum.”
Once I'd had my strawberry torte I headed up to the eyrie to actually get a shower before hitting the sack. Easier said than done of course but eventually I was ready for bed, hmm, best ring Con.
"Thought you’d ring earlier.”
"I er had a lot going on, so how’s business been?”
"Alright, busy today, now what’ve you been up to?”
"Where do I start?”
"Shopping?”
And so it started, a two hour phone call to someone less than four hundred metres away.
"How much?”
"You heard.”
"And she bought them for you?”
"I said.”
"You coulda got about six pairs for that in Deichmann's.”
"But not like these,” I pointed out.
"So how did the race go, I suppose you won?”
"Only just.”
"Wonder Woman nearly got beaten?”
"Well I did have a broken shoulder.”
"Excuses, excuses...hang on did you say broken shoulder?”
"Uh huh,” I agreed.
"I thought you knew how to ride? Go on, this I have to hear.”
So of course so far today I've repeated various versions of my weekend to Herr Thesing, Kris, Max and a number of our regular customers. I suppose there will be more later at cheer and I'm sure Doc. Martin will want the tale in a few minutes. Not having enough time to go home first – and not wanting Mum and Dad to get wind of things, I carefully pulled off my work shirt and replaced it with a vest style dress I stuffed in my bag earlier, before returning my arm to the sling.
"Bond for Doctor Martin,” I told the receptionist.
"Take a seat Gaby.”
"Thanks.”
I hadn’t got to a seat before I was accosted.
"Thought I heard you,” Fritzi stated, “mein Gott, what’ve you been up to now?”
"Came off the bike yesterday,” I told her, "Broken clavicle.”
"You’re like a trouble magnet girl.”
“Don’t I know it,” I agreed.
"Bond, room two,” the receptionist called out.
"See you later,” Fritzi offered.
"Yeah, laters.”
"Ah Gaby,” the Doc greeted as I entered the consulting room.
"Er hi, before you ask I came off my bike yesterday.”
"What’ve you done then?”
So I spent a couple of minutes going over my time at the Petrus Krankenhaus before we got to the actual purpose of my visit.
"So young lady, we know you aren’t pregnant but as I told you last week your white count is a bit low.”
"Uh huh,” I got out, this is gonna be bad news, I just know it is.
"Now there are quite a few possibilities of cause, the most common is some sort of virus, once its cleared up things go back to normal.”
"But you don’t think that's the cause do you?”
"Are you sure you don’t want your parents to be here, I can reschedule?”
Sugar, this really is serious but I'm a big girl aren’t I?
"No, I'll be okay.”
The Doc paused, clearly she wasn’t comfortable either.
"Please?”
"Okay Gab, there’s no easy way to put this, you have some family history of Ovarian cancer, there’s a possibility that this low white cell count is caused by a cancer.”
"Cancer, but I've only just got my ovaries before Weihnachts.”
"You’ve had them since you were born Gaby, its not certain that there’s cancer but we should check it out right?”
Cancer? But kids don’t get it do they? Mum was in her thirties.
The Doctor went on, "If there is cancer there’s a good chance we can treat it, especially if we get it early. I'd like to take more blood and schedule you for a biopsy.”
"When?”
"In the next few days, its your choice but I really think you should tell your parents.”
"You alright Gab’s?” Mand asked.
"Er sure,” I allowed.
Alright, well apart from a broken shoulder and cancer, yeah bright as a daisy.
"I guess you’ll be sitting it out tonight,” Hannah suggested joining us.
"Er yeah.”
"She fell off yesterday and still won,” Mand supplied.
"I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Han chortled, "Come on Gab, you are allowed to smile.”
About what precisely? I forced a smile onto my face, "Satisfied?”
"Well its a start, come on lets get this lot started.”
She opened the door and led the way inside.
"Are you really okay?” Mand pushed.
"I've had better days,” I allowed with a shrug. Question is, how many more days do I have? Oh I know what the Doc said but reading between the lines, well perhaps I should tell the rents so it doesn’t come as a surprise, yeah I'll tell them when I get home tonight.
Maddy Bell © 11.07.17
“Mum?"
"What's up?"
"Erm, can we talk?"
"I thought we were."
"A serious talk," I pressed, "in private?"
"Now?" she queried before pushing the last of her pizza into her mouth.
I guess something in my expression answered that.
"Let me just wash my hands, patio okay?"
I shrugged, "I guess."
Well Dad is in the office and Mand is watching some drivel on the TV in the lounge. The kitchen is hardly private so it doesn't leave many more options at Chez Bond.
"It's kinda important," I repeated.
Mum went to wash up and I headed out to our al fresco dining area. The sun is over the yard arm of course which means that we are in shadow now, just as well I snagged my cardi on the way out. I found a spot away from the house to sit and waited for Mum to arrive.
She arrived several minutes later bearing a couple of coffee cups.
"There you go."
"Erm thanks."
"So what's so serious, you're not expecting are you?"
Why does everyone assume i'm pregnant?
"No!"
"Sorry kiddo, had to ask, so what is it then, Max trouble?"
"it's nothing to do with Max," well not directly, i've been thinking all evening exactly what to say. Do I tell her the whole baby alert saga or just cut to the chase. I delayed things by taking a sip of coffee.
Mum just waited, sipping her own beverage.
"The Doc thinks I might have cancer," I blurted.
Mum didn't say anything.
"I said I've got cancer," I repeated.
"I think you'd best start at the beginning," she suggested before pulling me into a Mum hug. She was annoyingly calm which is something i'm not.
"Well you remember the other weekend when me and Max went to Bonn?"
And so I started the tale of my pregnancy panic and the ensuing visits to the Doctor's surgery.
"I don't want to die Mum,"I sniffed when i'd concluded my tale.
"Who said anything about you dying? We don't even know if you have the big C yet."
"But she said..."
Mum cut me off, "she said they want to do more tests not that you definitely have it."
"But the biop thingy..."
"It's so they can check things out more thoroughly, been there got the T-shirt remember?"
"Course I do, that's why they did extra tests."
"So when is this biopsy and where?"
"She's gonna ring and tell me."
"You're not alone in this kiddo, we're all gonna be here for you. Talking of which, can I tell your father?"
"He's got a lot on his plate at the moment," I hedged.
"He should know, he shouldn't be left out."
"I guess," I allowed.
"I'll tell him later," she stated before changing the tack of the conversation, "so how's the shoulder?"
I wiped another tear from my face, "bit sore."
"Like my wrist."
"I thought it was okay, you've been riding," I pointed out.
"Doesn't stop it aching," she mentioned waving her strapped arm.
"Can you get to the Damen Klinik tomorrow morning?" Doc Martin enquired when she called next morning.
"I guess so."
"Have you told your parents?"
"Yeah," I told her, "last night."
"Good, it's good to have a hand to hold. So if you can be at the Klinik for ten, Dr Jancisdottir will be expecting you."
"How long will it take?" I asked, mindful that i'm supposed to be working.
"It's not a long procedure, I should think in and out in a couple of hours."
"Right," I allowed with an inward sigh.
"Don't worry Gaby, its just a precaution okay."
"But what if they find something, er cancery?"
"Then we'll know we were right to check and we can do something about it. Didn't that American chap come back after his cancer diagnosis?"
"Lance, yeah but that was his, you know, boy bits."
"And your mother?"
"Yeah," I agreed.
"Look Gaby, there's a good chance the results will be benign but, and it's a fair sized but, if my colleagues find something we'll cross that bridge when we need to."
"Yeah," I agreed.
"Look Gaby, i've never been in your position but I do know that dwelling on things is never a good thing. You're young and fit, i'm sure things will turn out okay."
"I should get back to work."
"Aren't you supposed to be resting that shoulder?"
"I can still work the till and the hotplate, i'm not lifting stuff, honest."
"Hmm, well Klinik in the morning, once i've got the results back i'll call okay?"
"Okay," I agreed, "thanks Doc."
"You can thank me by getting well, take care Gaby Bond, tschuss."
"Tschuss."
"I take it you want me to take you?" Mum proposed when I rang her.
"Er please."
"I'll talk with Dad, he might want to come too."
"We won't know anything tomorrow."
"Hmm."
"What's that mean? What aren't you telling me?"
"Well," Mum started, "if they do find anything they'll probably operate there and then, that's why they put you under."
"Really?"
"If there's cancer it's better out than in."
I couldn't see her shrug her shoulders but I sensed the movement. So I go in all all woman and might come out some sort of female eunoch.
Unlike Mum's wrist which is just strapped up my shoulder in a sling really does rule out on road riding but there's no escaping the bike.
"Your Dad's set your bike up on the turbo, you're supposed to do an hour steady." Mum announced when I got home from the cabin.
It has been a weird day, the doctor's call and indeed Mum's afterwards coloured the rest of the day. I got through in an almost zombie like state - I can't even remember talking to Max although I do know he dropped by for lunch. And I don't even get a day off training.
"Whatever."
"You've got a big race coming up young lady."
"I know, are you riding?"
"The British," she advised sliding a dish of Lasagne into the oven, "should be done when you finish training."
"So how come i'm doing the German?"
"Your father thought that it would be good PR and you qualify through residency."
"So why aren't you doing the Germans?"
"I've always been a GB girl, you on the other hand are perceived as being German."
"Really?"
"Well you ride in a German team, go to school here, speak better German than English so it's the old duck thing."
"But I'm English."
"It's not where you're born that matters but where you make a life. Your Dad was telling me that BC have at least one Belgian born rider on the books so why not the other way round?"
"But I've already ridden for GB," I pointed out.
"Makes no difference, you won't be riding for anyone if you don't get on that bike!"
"Gott, you're worse than Dad."
Dad and the Croydon one arrived back from the training house suspiciously close to Lasagne time.
"You two eaten?" Mum enquired.
"Hours ago," Mand suggested.
I bet, mind you that rabbit food Angela is dishing up might be good for you but it's hardly filling.
"In the oven," Mum advised with a nod in that general direction.
"How's Daz?" I asked.
"Bout the same as you kiddo, sore and riding the turbo."
"Slave driver!"
"There salad left?" Mand enquired as she ravaged the remaining pasta dish.
"Fridge."
"Cool, Mr B." she allowed as she passed Dad a plate.
"How are you kiddo?" Dad enquired.
"Okay I guess, considering."
"Am I missing something?" Ears de Vreen suggested as she joined the rest of us at the table.
Mum jumped in before I could, "Gabs has got some more plumbing issues, we're off to the Frauen Klinik in the morning."
"You never said Gab."
"Nothing to tell really, hopefully sorted tomorrow."
"As long as you can still sit on your saddle eh?" she chortled.
Look I'll tell people the truth if I need to, when I need to.
"Er yeah," I agreed.
"Great Lasagne."
Yeah, best not upset people if I don't need to.
"Alright kinda?" Dad asked when we arrived at the Klinik.
"I guess, you didn't have to come Dad."
"What and commit you to your mother's driving?"
"There is that," I allowed.
"Hey I am here," Mum pointed out.
"Look Gab, you're my child, if your sick I am going to be here for you."
"Thanks Dad."
"Less of this fluffy stuff, you'll have me snivelling in a minute, let's get you inside,". Mum suggested.
"Ready kiddo?"
"As I'll ever be."
I extricated myself from the A, waited for Dad to lock it up then with Mum holding my good hand we headed into the Klinik.
Maddy Bell © 12.07.17
“Mum?”
My head was decidedly woozy, I had to blink several times before my eyes would actually focus.
"Right here kiddo,” she supplied grabbing hold of my hand.
"Did they...?”
"Nothing to worry about.”
"So they found something?”
"Doctor Jancisdottir will explain things,” she fudged.
Sounds like not good to me.
Dad came into the room trailing the doctor and a nurse.
"Ah we are awake, that is good.”
"It is?”
"Of course,”the doc grinned, "I can now get your unterschrift1!”
"Eh?”
"For my sister, she is a fan of the Bond racers, what did you think?”
I was having a little trouble understanding her heavily accented German and it took me a moment to decipher her reply.
"Erm so what did you find?” I cautiously requested.
"Well,” she perched herself on the edge of the bed, "The good news is the biopsy hasn't revealed any abnormal cells.”
"So there isn't any cancer?” I interrupted.
"Let the Doctor finish kiddo,” Dad advised.
"Er sorry Doctor.”
"Its alright Gaby, so yes there were no cancerous cells in the sample.”
"There's a but isn't there?”
"A 'but'?”
"She means something else Doctor,” Mum supplied.
"Ah, yes, something else. We found you had some polyps on your tubes.”
“Polyps?”
"They are not uncommon.”
"So these polyps, what's the treatment?”
"Nothing further,” she replied with a wide smile, "It was a simple matter to remove them whilst we had you open, a few snips and a quick burning, all done.”
"What about the white cell thingy?”
"We'll keep an eye on that through Doctor Martin, sometimes we have a blip in the results, sometimes its something nasty others not so. With your mothers history it was best to explore every avenue.”
"Sorry kiddo,” Mum snuck in.
"So I can go home?”
"The nurse will just check your wound then once you have a clear head, yes you can go.”
"Thanks Doctor,” Dad mentioned.
"Er yeah thanks,” I added.
"I'll be back for the signature before you go,” she smiled.”
"Sure,” I agreed.
"Well that's a weight off,” Dad noted once the nurse departed.
"Sugar, what time is it? I need to get to work.”
"No you don't,” Mum stated,” I rang Therese earlier, you're excused today.”
"Does she know why? I haven't said anything to Con.”
"I had to tell her love but I'm pretty sure she'll keep it to herself.”
"What about later, I'm supposed to be working at the Sebenschuh's.”
"What about your shoulder?” Dad queried.
"Its only waiting tables.”
"Hmm,” he allowed.
"I'm sure she'll be sensible,” Mum interjected.
"Course,” I agreed, "It feels a lot better anyway.”
"We don't want to set your recovery back.”
"Someone looks happier today,” Pia opined.
"Looking forward to this,” I suggested.
"Sometimes I can almost believe you.”
"I'm hurt!”
"So how's the shoulder?”
"Still a bit sore, Mum had to help me get this on.”
"I'm sure you could've worn something else for one dinner.”
"And ruin the visitors experience.”
"Ah Gaby, girls” Sebenschuh senior greeted.
"Hi Herr S.”
“Pia told me about your arm Gaby, you okay doing the getranke this evening?”
"I guess,” I allowed.
"You'd come out clean from a pig sty,” Mand suggested.
"Even her wind doesn't smell,” Con added with a smirk.
I was about to refute that but stopped myself just in time.
"I'd like to get some pictures this evening,” P's dad put in before we started yammering again, "So perhaps a bit more makeup?”
"What are you saying papa?” P crowed, "You want me to wear makeup?”
He took a deep breath, "Yes daughter, but please you are representing the business.”
"Guys,” Pia stated, “bedroom.”
"Ow!” I complained, "That hurt.”
"Soz, but you did move,” Mand observed.
"Sorry for breathing!”
"Oh get a life Gab.”
She finished tugging at my hair, instead of my original twin braids my locks are now redesigned into a much more complex do.
"Hmmph!”
"Girls!” Ingrid called through, “bus is here.”
Usually of course Helmut greets the coach passengers on his own but this evening he had 'the staff' lined up outside, smiles plastered on painted faces as Inge manned the camera. Talk about a faff, Con had to run around through the cave to collect coats as we were sort of stuck behind our visitors. In fact we only managed to get back inside once our employer started his spiel about the evenings programme.
"You are looking very er, German tonight,” Julia, the Global host suggested.
"For the photos,” I allowed with a roll of my eyes.
"You certainly all look very nice.”
"Good job Chris isn't here,” her driver observed, "He'd want you all painted up every time.”
"Who's Chris?” I queried as I distributed their drinks.
"The er tour manager,” Julia offered.
"I thought that was Nena, the German girl?”
There was a quick unspoken exchange, "They work together,” Julia stated.
I'm sure there was something unsaid going on but hey, its none of my business is it?
"So how is your kiosk going?”
"What're you doing here?”
"Huh, nice to see you too,” Max huffed.
"I rang him earlier,” Con advised.
I might've been on light duties this evening but I'm still quite tired.
"Seeing as you're here,” I started, "Here catch.”
He grabbed my handtasche as it flew towards him.
"Hey!”
"Cut him some slack Gabs,” Mand suggested.
"I am, I was going to get him to carry your bags too.”
"Urgh!” de Vreen m managed.
"I don't mind,” Max stated as we started the walk back to Dernau.
"See?” I prompted.
"Ooow,” Con noted, "You two really have got it bad.”
"Got what?” Max asked my BF.
"Duh!”
"So you feeling better?” Max asked when Con and Mand finally left us alone.
"Yeah, look Max we need to talk.”
He stiffened a little, "Thought there was something up.”
"You did?”
"You have sort of been avoiding me since Bonn.”
"I haven't.”
"Its coz I got drunk isn't it?”
"You got drunk, we all got a bit out of shape.”
"I bet its that singer bloke,” he mumbled on.
“Max, what are you on about?”
"You're dumping me for Stefan right?”
"Stefan? Don't be so wet, he's like ancient!”
"Who then?”
"I'm not dumping anyone,” I rolled my eyes, “boys!”
"Well if you aren't dumping me what are we talking about?”
"Are you two coming in?” Mum called from the kitchen door.
"Coming,” I yelled back before addressing von Strechau again, "Look, Mum knows about Bonn, you know, you, me, in bed and stuff.”
"She does? Like I'm sorry about that Gab I was so out of it.”
"So was I,” I allowed.
"How'd she find out?”
"I er told her,” I admitted.
"Whatever for?”
"I've had some er plumbing issues, its sort of came out that we had sex.”
"We did?”
"You really don't remember?”
"I'm sure I'd remember something like that.”
for the first time since Bonn I had a moment of doubt, did we do the deed? We definitely spent the night in the same bed but I suppose it is a bit circumstantial, its not like with my plumbing anyone could tell. No it must've happened, it had to have.
"I thought I might be, you know, looking for a baby carriage.”
"Your dad's gonna kill me isn't he?”
"I doubt it, come on or Mum just might.”
"I will get a decent burial won't I?”
"Give over you great lump,” I reached up and pulled his head down to a more accessible level.
"Your mum?”
"She can wait a couple of minutes,” I opined before landing a limpet on his lips.
Maddy Bell © 14.07.17
"You guys spoken to Anna this week?” Bridg asked.
"Not for weeks,” I admitted.
"Same,” Con agreed.
"She said she'd ring everyone when I saw her,” Bridget mentioned.
"Another girls night?” Nen queried.
"Not quite.”
"Well don't keep us in suspense,” I prompted.
"Okay, so how do you guys feel about tents?”
"Tents?” Nena confirmed, “like camping?”
"What else?”
"What do you mean, feel?” I asked.
"Well like staying in one.”
"In a tent?” Con mentioned with some incredulity.
Nena followed with “like actually camp?”
"Of course 'actually camp'.” Bridg stated with a roll of her seeing things.
"Why'd we want to do that?”
"Because Princess, we've been invited to go on summer camp with Anna and her college friends.”
"We have?” I enquired.
"No I just made it up,” B huffed, "Two weeks time, no parents, hot boys, swimming.”
"And just where is this nirvana?” Nena asked.
"Bad Durckheim.”
"Where?” Nen, Con and me chorused.
"Its in the Pfalz, I think she said we get a train from Mainz?”
She didn't sound a hundred percent sure of that but its pretty irrelevant anyhow.
"We can't take time off,” Con sighed, "This place.”
I let things run through my head, next week is Bavaria, then I don't have any major racing until we go to Spain. Maybe not the whole fortnight but a few days away, no bikes, no rents would be pretty cool, I might be able to swing the rents if we can cover the kiosk.
"We could ask,” I proposed.
"You want to spend time in a tent?” Nen quested.
I shrugged, "Not had a better offer.”
"I guess,” she admitted.
"What are you all plotting?” Max asked joining us around the kiosk window.
"Just talking about holidays,” Con advised my boy friend.
"So where are you off to?”
"Nowhere,” Nen sighed.
"The Pfalz,” Bridg put in.
"Nice, I think we're going to Rechsville again,” Max sighed.
"Ah, poor Maxxie,” I told him, “come here so I can kiss you better.”
"Get a room you two!” Con suggested as I moved in for a quick smooch.
"We wouldn't be on our own,” I told my mother over dinner, Dad and Mand being down with BC again.
"And what happens with the kiosk? You can't just abandon it, the Thesings and indeed your father have all invested a lot into it.”
"I know, I've sort of got that covered.”
“Hmm”
"So what do you think?”
"And this is on a proper campsite?”
"Yeah, 'course. Its got a restaurant and a lake and...”
”And you don't have to sell it to me.”
“really?”
"I'll speak to your father,” she advised.
"I am sixteen.”
"And don't we know it!”
Now we just need to sort the kiosk.
"Well?” I pressed Con as soon as she arrived at the kiosk Friday morning.
"Yes!” she beamed before we started a jiggly hug fest.
"There must be a but?” I asked once she'd calmed down.
"Well,” she started before hopping onto the side, "Only fora week, they'll fill in with the girls at the bakery.”
"Best get Max on board,” I mentioned.
"What about you?”
"I've got races the first weekend and last weekends but I can go anytime between.”
"I reckon we could go Monday to Monday then,” Con proposed.
"We'd miss the busy trains that way.”
"That's settled then, you sort out Max and I'll square it with Papa.”
"I'll let the others know.”
"So,” I mentioned twirling a few locks of hair, “how's the schnitzel?”
Max finished chewing what was in his maw before replying, "Pretty good, you make the Jagger sauce?”
"Might have,” I allowed. So okay, its reheated from a batch I made at home a few weeks ago.
“'s pretty good.”
"You're just saying that,” I teased.
"Straight up, its better than dad's.”
now I know he's fibbing, I've had Wilhelm's sauce and its superb, mine's adequate but not brilliant.
"So how do you fancy doing me, us a big favour?”
"It doesn't involve wearing hose does it? I mean it was bad enough for the wedding but it was damn cold at the market.”
"Now you know what we have to put up with.”
"But at least they look good on you,” he countered.
Actually Max, you looked pretty hot in that whole getup – especially those legs!
"No hose this time – well unless you really want to wear it.”
"Don't think so, so what's this favour?”
“He go for it?” Con asked after I finished buttering up the focus of my lust and he'd departed to tend Gloria's nag.
"Think so, it'll no doubt cost but it'll be worth it.”
"Neat, I rang dad, they're okay with Monday to Monday.”
"This is so cool!”
"Our own Demosthenes,” Con allowed.
We did a slow left wheel, my shoulder aching a bit from being held at er shoulder height for several minutes. Tonight we're all in full Garde uniform, peruke, the lot except the make up ready for Sunday's appearance at the Adenau family festival. I'm not in the cheer squad so as a couple of the others are in both Garde and cheer Han sort of twisted my arm into making up the numbers of toy soldiers.
"Aaand,” Han waited a moment, "Double spin to finish.”
We spun our wooden 'guns' and completed the routine.
"Urgh, tell me again why I'm doing this?”
"Because Pia, Kris and Lise are in your cheerleading squad,” Hannah advised passing me a towel.
"Oh yeah,” I allowed.
"You're looking happier today.”
“had a lot on my mind Monday.”
"I could tell.”
"But me and the girls are going camping in a couple of weeks.”
"Ah, the camping trip,” Hans expression changed to one of mellow remembrance.
"You've done it?”
"Several times, the sun, the boys, the beach. So where are you going?”
"Not quite sure,” I admitted, "Some place in the Pfälz, Bad something, where did you go?”
"The last time all the way up to the coast, but we were all at university then with cars and motorrad, we spent a whole month there.”
"We're only going for a week,” I sighed, a month, now that's quite a trip.
"Week, month, its all the same with less sunburn.”
"Don't, I burn quite easily.”
"Best stock up on sun cream,” Han chuckled, "A week in a bikini, you'll be like a traffic light otherwise!”
Maybe I should do some pre trip tanning?
"When can you ride again?” Lor asked as I slotted a couple of bidons into her holders.
"I've been using the turbo all week, back on the road Monday hopefully.”
"No rest eh?”
"Well it is the champs next weekend.”
"Mand said you're doing the German one.”
"Yeah, Dad thinks it'll be easier than the British.”
"Don't let Greta or Thalia hear you say that,” she replied with a chuckle.
"Seriously though, next year I qualify to ride for Germany internationally and I have a German licence already so it sort of makes sense.”
“Even though you're English?”
"So Dad says.”
"Gab, can you give these to Josh,” Dad called over.
"Duty calls, have a good ride.”
“Cheers Gab.”
Yeah, here I am, team goffer at the Frankfurt Junge Grand Prix, the last of the front season League events. Its a bummer not being able to ride today but I've got enough points in the pot that missing this still leaves me as series leader, I think Josh and Innerthausen are tied for second but like twenty points adrift of me. Unlike the Three Countries last week the League are quite happy for girls to go head to head with the lads.
"You alright spud?” Dad asked as we waited for the race to start.
"Prefer to be riding.”
"Think of it as a rest before the Nationals.”
"I guess.”
"Its only one race kiddo, you'll come out firing on all cylinders next week in Bavaria.”
"Are Tal and Gret riding?”
"Of course, we want to fill the podium, we only got the bottom step last year.”
Paaaarrrp!
We turned back to the course and cheered the race away for its first loop out towards Homberg.
"There you are,” Mum observed joining us.
If you remember from last time they have a women's event as well as the junior one here.
“Heya.”
"All ready love?” Dad queried.
"Yeah, bit nervous,” she waved her strapped wrist.
"Just be careful eh?” Dad posited.
"Go for it Mum,” I added.
"Guess I should go warm up.”
Maddy Bell © 16.07.17
There's a weird thing when you're deeply involved in sport, especially if you actual compete, you don't really get a lot of spectator time. Lets face it, if you are taking things seriously your life pretty much revolves around competing, training and looking after kit – with cycling more so than say running or kick ball. Oh sure you might catch a bit of the Tour on telly but even at multi race meets you don't get to see the other events as you're concentrating on warming up, warming down, changing and so on.
I have to say that I'm not a great spectator, oh I'll cheer my team mates and friends but it can be a bit boring. Yep, I said it, cycling can be boring. But I suppose anything that lasts more than a minute can have that thrown at it right?
"Come on kiddo, you can help with the feed.”
"Joy.”
"You didn't have to come,” he pointed out.
That was true enough, but with the rest of the household coming and a chance to catch up with Roni, well I suppose I can cope with sorting out a few bottles.
“Looks like they're on their way,” Dad suggested.
"Where?”
"The lead car's just come past those trees,” he pointed across the fields.
I spotted the distant riders in a gap between the greenery, “looks like Josh on the front.”
"Bit early to be expending energy,” Dad noted.
By now the other helpers in the feed zone were moving roadside, not to hand up food but to cheer their riders through. We slid down the bank and joined them, it was another couple of minutes before the flashing lights of the lead car hove into view and a short distance behind the race leaders were visible. And then they were on us, Josh and Innerthausen dictating the pace from the front, a phalanx of familiar jerseys in their wake.
"Steady Waugh,”Dad called out as he clapped.
I looked out for the girls, "Go 'Pollinaris! Allez English!”
The whole race was pretty much together, well they have only done about twenty K's, just a few riders were adrift but not by much. The rest of the race convoy followed through, commisaires, neutral service and the half dozen team cars. Mike tooted from the wheel of the BC bus, along with Caro and Daz he's servicing both our squads – well no point having two cars and no feed right?
"How long for Mums race?”
“Maybe twenty five minutes.”
"I shoulda brought a book,” I sighed.
Dad snorted, "You, read?”
"I am capable you know.”
"I know, I just thought you were more into painting nails and dark music, there might be a Bryson in the glove box.”
"BlauHase are not dark,” I huffed, "Bit Deutsche rock maybe.”
"If you say so.”
"I'm gonna catch some rays.”
"You got sun screen?”
"I'm not a little kid,” I told him.
“And you're not an adult yet either young lady,” he stated with a bit of edge to his voice.
"Er do you want a drink fetching?”
I could actually see the senior race much better from my vantage point up on the bank.
“Looks like one of ours is away,” I called down to Dad.
"Can you see who?”
“Ut uh, they've gone behind the trees.”
The women weren't riding a much different pace to the juniors so it was almost exactly the thirty minutes they started behind that the second belighted car approached our spot.
“Looks like Tina!”
The lone rider heading towards us was the smallest girl on the squad, I think she and I are both the same one five eight centimetres but she makes me look fat!
"Dig, dig!”
"Go Teen!”
She swept through, a determined look on her face as she span her gears easily over the smooth tarmac. Dad was on auto pilot, his stopwatch was out and running. It seemed like ages before the main bunch came into sight, a lump of cream leading the way with Mum's Weltmeisterin stripes sat comfortably ahead of the motley jerseys of the other teams.
"Go on Roni!”
"Twenty seconds!”
"Allez Bond!”
Because of the hope that the ladies would race faster than the juniors it was actually only ten minutes later that the latter returned for a second time. The feed is next time around but with it being a warm day a lot of helpers were waiting with fresh bidons. Its always a danger area and the addition of errant water bottles doesn't decrease that.
As we were looking after ten riders it was a hectic couple of minutes, first handing bidons out then collecting the dropped empties.
"I'll fill these,” I volunteered.
“Okay,” Dad agreed, "You might want more sun screen.”
I glanced at my shoulders, perhaps they are getting a bit pink – oh mein gott, tan lines! Now in the macho world of bike racing tan lines are hard fought for things, the pasty torso and well toasted limb look gets plenty of kudos. But I'm a girl, a girl going on a sort of beach holiday in two weeks, I so do not want tan lines, bike or bra.
I refilled the bottles from the tank in the back of the bus, then using the cover of the rear doors slipped the straps of my vest top and BH off to slather myself with more factor thirty. There were already faint outlines over my shoulders so I tucked the straps out of the way leaving my shoulders bare. By the time I'd done I almost missed Tina coming through again, no longer alone but with one of the Boels girls sharing the workload.
"Go Porsche!” I yelled.
"Thirty five!” Dad added having timed their approach across the fields.
In return, Teen waggled her fingers in acknowledgement.
The bunch was less Apollinaris dominated this time, more fragmented even if it looked like all of ours were still there.
“Right,” Dad started, heading for the bus, “musettes.”
The bags were of course already packed, not a ton of stuff today, a fresh bidon, a couple of sandwiches, energy bars and of course banana. Even so, an armful of bags weighs a fair bit. With so many riders to cover once back at the zone I crossed the road, we'd already agreed that Dad would do BC and I'd do 'Pollinaris so I only actually had four bags.
Over the last twenty kilometres there had been some action in the peloton, it was a small group that came at us, German Paul, Gethin and Cav followed a few seconds later by Josh and another lad I didn't recognise. I held out a bag, Josh adjusted his line to intercept it, snatching it easily from my grip without dropping any momentum. Three left, I spotted the chasers and there were my girls.
Gret detached herself from the sea of bodies, shouting “all!” as she approached.
I barely had time to transfer all the straps to one hand before she grabbed them, a bit less elegant than Josh but securely nonetheless. Perhaps the worst scenario is to grab your musette and drop it, no food and a good chance of causing a pile up. Dad is pretty keen on us practising the skill but you can't account for less skilful members of the race.
Across the road Dad still had a bag to deliver even as the tail of the bunch cleared the pick up zone. I saw Mike pause briefly by Dad then the bus was off again. The race caravan was past before a lone figure came up the road which revealed itself as Jamie.
"Go Jame!” I shouted over.
"Hang in lad!” Dad told him as he took his grub.
And then the road was clear.
"What happened to Jamie?” I asked crossing back to Dad.
"Puncture.”
"Bummer, the others coulda done with him about now.”
"It happens,” Dad noted, "I'll go fetch the empties, haven't you got a hat?”
"In the bus.”
"Well put it on, I don't want you getting heatstroke, there's some cola in the cooler, should be some sandwiches too.”
Now food and drink I can do!
The seniors seemed much closer this time, Dad wasn't back from the drop zone even when Tina and her companion were cheered through. I waited expectantly for the bunch but it was a lone rider, one wearing white who appeared first.
"Go on Mum!” I yelled.
I'm sure she smiled back as I bounced in excitement.
Okay, note to self, don't jump about without your bra being secure, not only did the girls attract some momentum they broke loose leaving my chest er, uncovered. Oops. Not sure if anyone noticed, I just about got things covered and under control by the time the bunch rushed past.
When the youth event got back to us they had just over a lap to go, the leaders were all together, five of them, three of which are ours. Bottles were handed up for the last time and then we waited for the bunch. And waited, and waited.
It was almost five minutes later that the peloton, a depleted one at that, arrived. Mand, Sal, Jamie, Tal, Laura – where are the others? This time when the caravan passed there were no more riders following.
"Where are the others?”
"Dunno,” Dad allowed.
"Hope they're alright.”
"Well lets get to the finish.”
"We not watching Mum through?”
"We'll see her at the finish area, your nose looks burnt.”
"Sugar!” yeah I always forget to get the sun screen on my schnoz.
Of course we weren't the only ones wanting to get to the finish zone, there was a bit of a traffic jam when someone stalled a car in their haste and back at the HQ area it was a case of dump the transport as close as possible. We jogged through and reached the barriers just as Mum, a tired Tina and the Boels woman went through together. There was no clothing malfunction this time as I cheered them through, that was so embarrassing!
“Looking good.”
"Yeah,” Dad agreed, “lets see if we can find out what's happened to Gret and Claire.”
That was easier said than done, with the finish now just minutes away anyone official was a bit tied up.
"You looking for your girls?” a chap I remember seeing at other races enquired.
"Er hi Michael,” Dad greeted the other, "Yeah, we've lost a couple.”
"There was a pile up at the far end of the circuit apparently, a couple have come back in down the course.”
Before the discussion could go further the PA spluttered into life and our attention was diverted to the finale.
'They'll be with us screech inutes, the lead group are st screech nd should be an exciting finale.'
"See you later Michael,” Dad shook the man's hand.
"Sure Dave, glück in the final!”
"Cheers.”
We made our way back to the barriers in time to see the lead car go through and then the chap on the PA started going barmy. Dad headed along to the pick up area whilst I strained over the barrier to see down the road. To be honest I didn't know who to cheer for, Josh? Cav? Paul even, instead I joined the communal barrier slapping as first Geth then the other lad sat up.
In the end it was no contest, Cav catapulted forward leaving Josh and Paul to fight for the lower steps. They'd had a big lead last time through, if anything it was bigger now but eventually the rest of the race arrived for a messy sprint which Mand took – yay the girls!
Maddy Bell ©22.07.17
The result of the senior race was going to be less predictable, most of the women were together when they hove into view. The distinctive Apollinaris jersey's dominated the pack, I couldn't pick out Mum in the meleé but I'm sure she's there. I joined in the yelling and slapping again as they hurtled towards us, Mum broke through but she wasn't the only one making an effort.
I wasn't on the line so it was difficult to tell who got it although I think it was that Vos woman who punched the air. Of course it was a bit of a scramble of riders, fans and helpers around the finish area but before I could get anywhere near I was hailed.
“Gab!”
I span round, well you do don't you?
“Claire, what happened to you? Gret with you? Dad's been looking for you.”
“Gret's in the first aid tent, I just bent my bike little bit.”
"So what happened?” I queried again as I reached her.
"Who knows? One minute we're setting up the corner next we're skating across the road, someone took out my front wheel, it was a total mess.”
“You hurt?”
"I'll have some bruises, Gret's lost some skin though.”
“Dad'll be pleased,” I sighed.
“How'd your Mum do?”
“Dunno, they all came in together.”
"Ah, there you are,” Dad noted joining us, “you okay Claire?”
“Better than the bike, Gret's in first aid.”
“Yeah,” Dad allowed, “just come from there, lets get the rest of you sorted out, where's your bike?”
"At the bus.”
“Come on then, Gab?”
"I'm just gonna find Mum?”
“Okay.”
I eventually found the Weltmeisterin back at the seniors team bus already receiving Petra's ministrations on the massage table.
“Heya kiddo, how's the spectating go?”
“Okay I guess,” I allowed with a shrug, "Take it you didn't win?”
“Fourth, I'm getting a bit old for all this sprinting stuff,” she offered
“Yeah, I bet Gran could beat you, so who won?”
“Cheeky madam!”
“Can you pass that bottle of oil Gabs?” Petra interrupted.
“Er sure.”
"Its gone to a photo, Vos and Tina, who got the juniors?”
“Cav by a mile, Mand got the bunch though.”
“Good on her, so what are you guys up to now?”
“Once we collect the wounded Dad was on about going to that restaurant we used before.”
"Wounded?”
“Gret's lost some skin, big pile up.”
“Hope she's okay, you kids are going down like nine pins.”
“Not just us,” I pointed out looking at her still strapped wrist.
“Maybe we should all retire eh?”
“Like that's gonna happen.”
“You should get back to your Dad, I'll see you at home later.”
“Yeah, best not miss the bus, see you Pet.”
“Bye Gab.”
“Later Princess,” Mum added.
Ooooo!
“Really?” Mand giggled.
Oh what a difference a day makes.
“Ha de har,” I replied with a scowl.
“You look like a right twonk.”
“No need to rub it in, come on Sebenschuh where are you?”
Yep today its the family day up at Adenau and my All Star Cheer are doing a couple of spots which is why Mand is wearing her cheer uniform. However, if you recall I've been drafted into the Ahr Alles Stern Garde so I'm wearing the ridiculous bright pink toy soldier outfit which Mand hasn't actually seen me wearing before. Its also why we're stood outside Bond Acres waiting for Inge to pick us up instead of riding up with the rest of the gang as usual.
I think it must be a rule or something that all the Sebenschuh’s vehicles have to sound like asthmatic mopeds but they do.
“'bout time,” I muttered as the car spluttered around the corner.
“You'll have to sit in the middle Gab, you're smallest,” Pia told me, like I don't already know that, duh!
“Very er military,” Kat chuckled which earnt her a poked tongue.
“Everyone in?” Ingrid queried.
“Just about,” Mand supplied elbowing me in the girls as she pulled her seat belt into place.”
“Ow!”
“Give over Bond,” P, dressed similarly to me in eye watering pink, suggested.
Did I mention before that Inge hasn't long passed her test? Well we didn't have the smoothest departure from Dernau but we eventually stopped the kangaroo impersonations and started our thirty minute journey up to Adenau.
"See you guys later,” Ingrid suggested after we got parked in the field next to the sports field where the day's entertainments will be taking place.
“Yeah, wouldn't miss the Garde for anything,” Kat chortled.
She might be my oldest German friend but sometimes Kat Pinger can be a right what not!
"Whatever,” I mumped as I slung my bag onto my shoulder.
"Where're we s'posed to meet Han?” Mand queried.
“Outside the changing block,” Pia supplied.
We got a few odd looks as two pink toy soldiers and a cheerleader joined the trail of burghers heading to the sports ground. I guess it could be worse, like if I was wearing just my knickers, it'd be a close thing though. It was easy enough to find our dance colleagues, Lisse was demonstrating some cheer moves to Solde and Franny with an audience of Kris, Margot, Susan and Maria while our leader was wrestling with the boxes of poms, hats and 'guns'.
“Heya,” I allowed.
Han looked up from her boxes, "Ah good you're here.”
"Where else would we be?” P queried.
"What are you wearing?”
“Garde,” Pia supplied with a glance down.
“You're supposed to be in your cheer stuff,” Han threw her arms in the air, "Why me?”
"I am?”
“Come to think P that's why I'm doing Garde today,” I mentioned.
She palmed herself in the face, "I knew there was something about today.”
It took a couple of phone calls, a swapping of arena slots and a dose of Mum's driving to sort out Pia's ditzy error but sort it out we did. Just in time for Mum to catch her youngest daughter, that's me, looking a right prawn in front of the assembled citizenry. Its a good job the makeup is plastered on, I reckon my face was brighter than the stupid uniform.
But the sun was out, the watchers seemed appreciative, the only slightly disconcerting thing was the breeze which seemed intent on lifting skirts and exposing our underwear. It wasn't a competition of course but that probably helped us relax and perform our high steps, wheels and slow marching better than usual. We finished and almost skipped off the field.
"Well done girls,” Han enthused.
"So this is what you do Friday nights Gab,” Mum opined.
“Mum, I'm over here, that's Solde,” I sighed.
"I knew that.”
Solde chuckled, "Its alright Frau Bond, the whole idea is we're identical.”
"Argh! Ten Gaby's, I don't think I can stand it!”
“Muu-um,” I groaned as the others giggled.
“Just kidding Princess.”
"And less of the Princess.” I can live with a lot, pink hair, being a girl, even having a boyfriend but I draw the line at being called Princess! “don't you have somewhere to be?”
“Maria's not expecting us until three.”
Great, she'll hang around here until ten to.
It wasn't so bad I suppose, Mum hung around to watch the All Star's performance then actually went off to look around by herself. We on the other hand have a second performance of the Cheer team to look forward to, by mutual consent the Garde all hung about to offer support.
"There she is!”
“Heya guys,” I allowed as Steff and Con arrived with Max in tow. “how'd you know I was me?”
“Duh,” Steff noted, “unless the rest have got pink hair?”
I felt at my head, oh yeah, I took off my hat and perucke a few minutes ago.
"Where's P?” Con asked.
“Not sure, she was talking to Mand a minute ago.”
"We saw your mum,” Max advised.
“Yeah, she was here too, so what are you doing with this pair of miscreants von Strechau?”
"We found him eyeing the crepe stall,” Steff put in.
My stomach chose that second to rumble.
"Sounds like someone else fancies crepes,” Con suggested.
“You look kinda sexy in that lot,” Max told us.
“And you're weird Strechau,” Steff opined.
“Don't get any ideas,” I added.
"What about your cheer costume?”
“Don't push your luck boyo!”
“Just kidding,” he grinned, "I prefer the running kit.”
“Running kit?” Steff and Con echoed.
“Long story you don't need to know.”
“But I tell you everything,” Con pouted.
So of course I found myself explaining the whole running track thing while we waited for the second cheer team display.
"That dog's a nightmare,” Steff observed.
"Tell me about it,” I affirmed, “he goes for my ankles all the time.”
“Can he reach down there?” Steff snorted.
“You can go off people.”
"Its a wonder Frau Holdorf hasn't spread it all around town,” Con noted.
"The look on her face Gab,” Max smirked.
"It was quite funny,” I agreed.
"So why were you guys in the vineyard again?”
"Steff!”
"I wasn't concentrating,” she suggested in her defence.
Maddy Bell © 03.08.17
"That's better,” I announced to anyone within earshot.
The pan stick makeup we use for Garde is a nightmare to clean off but there's no way I was gonna spend the rest of the afternoon walking around looking like some freakish alien. So here I am, half a pack of make up wipes and nearly half an hour after going inside emerging into the afternoon sunshine.
“'bout time,” Mand opined.
"That stuffs like flippin' cement.” I mentioned as I readjusted the girls.
"Gab!”
"What?”
"Boys?” Steff hinted with a nod towards the fast approaching von Strechau heir.
"Oops,” I hastily pulled my hand out of my vest top.
"Can we eat now?” Max whined as he joined us.
Him and his stomach.
"I've got my nose ring?” I hinted. Yeah I know its a bit weird but it costs nothing and is a good incentive for the boy.
“Really?”
"Gab you are such a slapper!” Con suggested.
"Am not!”
"Food?” Max hinted again.
Eva and Chris were doing a steady trade with the crepe trailer, I felt a bit guilty to not be helping out today but they seem to have coerced one of Christina's cousins to help out anyhow.
"Hi girls, how goes things?” Eva greeted.
"Busy,” I suggested.
"Welcome to the world of small business! So what are you after?”
"Five Nutella® please,” Mand requested.
"Six,” I corrected.
"Coming up.”
"Six?” Steff queried.
"Thought Mart would appreciate one,” I offered, "He's been doing that football thing all day.”
"Bum,” Max sighed, "Thought I was getting extra.”
"Nose ring,” Con and Mand chorused with a giggle.
He shrugged, "I guess.”
There was a round of eyeball rolling.
"Who's paying?” Steff asked.
"I'll get them,” I sighed pulling my purse from my handtasche, well mini ruck, you know the one I mean.
“Just ten Gaby,” Eva requested.
"I thought they were two each?”
"Call it staff discount.”
"Cheers Eva,” I grinned pulling a ten note free.
"Come and get 'em!” Chris advised.
"Mmmm,” Steff managed as she collected an ooze of choccy spread from her chin.
"Maybe we should do these at the kiosk,” Con suggested as we slowly drifted towards the football club's little coral.
Max put his two bobs worth in, "You really should.”
"You could do them with ice cream,” Steff added licking her fingers.
“Jubilee pancakes!” Mand and I crowed.
“Jubilee?” Con queried.
Well if you haven't been to a Little Chuff you will be out of the loop, essentially its their signature dessert, a hot crepe with cherry filling served with vanilla ice cream.
“Later Con,” I suggested, "Hey Mart!”
Of course my call couldn't have been timed worse, distracted Mart turned as the punter struck the ball which of course thwacked him on the side of the head before ricocheting into the goal.
"Ooh!” Mand allowed.
"Sorry,” I squeaked.
Mart shook his head, “'s alright, I think.”
"That had to hurt,” Max suggested.
"I'll live, thought you were playing at toy soldiers Gab?”
"How'd you know?”
"Saw Pia a while back, that make up is well spooky.”
"Which is why I'm not wearing it now, here you go.”
"What's this?”
"Present from Bern,” I suggested.
“Looks edible enough,” he allowed taking the crepe from me.
"So you doing this all day?” Steff asked the footballing farmer.
"Mmm, this is good,” Mart stated, "Off and on.”
"We're just getting some drinks if you fancy tagging,” Con offered.
"Give me a minute.”
"Sugar!”
"Wassup?” Mand asked as she readjusted her cardi to sit on.
"I've dropped it.”
"What?”
"My ring.”
“Ring?”
"Nose ring, how am I gonna find it in this lot?”
"I didn't think you liked it?”
"Well it sort of grown on me, g'is a hand.”
"What are you two up to?” Con enquired arriving with one of those sickly sweet chocolate kebab things, yuk and on top of the crepe too.
"She's lost her ring,” Mand supplied without offering any assistance.
I spotted the mislayed jewellery, "Yes!”
"Simple things,” Con observed as I retrieved it and gave it a quick wipe.
"So what is it with this nose ring then, I mean it looks cute on you but there has to be more,” Mand enquired.
I threaded it into place and clipped it closed before replying, "Its er personal and its note cute, its sophisticated.”
"Yeah whatever.”
"Ooo drinks!” I enthused as the others joined us.
"I only wanted a small one,” Con complained as Mart handed her a large cup of Krombacher.
"They only had one size,” Max explained.
"I'm sure one of the boys will finish what you don't want,” Mand opined.
"She'll drink the lot,” I prophesised before taking a sip out of my own beaker.
It was good to just hang out with friends for a bit, we chewed the cud, watched the dog trainers and some gymnastic display and, well actually relaxed. At some point I became snuggled into Max and found myself drifting off in the afternoon warmth.
"We're going back to the football,” Steff announced, "You two coming?”
"We'll catch up in a bit,” I suggested.
“Later,” she giggled.
"Thought they'd never go,” Max whispered as our friends departed.
"Yeah,” I agreed.
"Gabrielle Bond!”
I recognised the voice immediately and quickly disengaged from my limpet impersonations.
“Kat.”
"Amanda said you were over here, she didn't say you were sucking your boyfriends face off.”
"I wasn't...”
"This isn't the famous Max?”
"Er hi,” von Strechau allowed from above me.
"So what's up?”
"Inge wants to get off if you want a ride.”
"Its only three.” I proposed.
"Two hours ago.”
“Really?”
"She's right Gabs,” Max confirmed checking my wrist watch.
"Bum.”
Well unless I want a long walk it looks like my day out is over.
"Guess its time up then,” I sighed.
"You might want to re-dress before you get up,” Kat suggested.
Look its nothing like that, the straps of my top have moved, that's it, honest.
"Where'd you get to?” I asked Pia as we walked up to the car.
"Could ask the same of you?”
"We just kicked around the arena, so?” I pursued.
"Erm,” she hedged.
"Ooo, I smell a liaison,” Mand suggested.
"It was not!”
That got a snort from her sister.
"Who was he then?”
“Jorge,” she whispered.
“Jorge Stevens?” I queried.
"Yes Jorge Stevens,” she confirmed with a sigh.
"Who is Jorge?” Mand quested.
"He was in my class at Silverberg, bit of a hunk apparently.” I filled in.
"And you wouldn't know about that,” P mentioned, "Gaby von Strechau.”
"Give over P.”
"Am I missing something?” Kat enquired.
"Gabs marital status,” Mand put in.
"Mand!” I complained.
"Cheers Inge!” I called over as she completed turning the Sebenschuh car round in our drive.
"No prob guys, see you later Kat.”
"Tschuss!”
The Sebenschuh girls headed back up to Rech while I led the way up to Schloss Bond. Kat was going to go straight back home but with our parents kicking back at her place and Inge and P needing to be at the Stube, I volunteered food, we can sort out getting her home later.
"Phew, its cooler in here,” Mand stated once we were inside.
"It was getting a bit warm in that field,” Kat agreed.
"More in some places than others,” Mand smirked.
"I guess you don't want a cold drink then?” I proposed.
"Don't be such a, a...”
"Debutant?” Kat suggested, "So what's for tea?”
"Not you too?” I complained.
"What?”
I gave a deep sigh, "Salad?”
"Salad!” they both groaned.
"Well you want something with your lasagne don't you?”
"Why you!”
Maddy Bell © 04.08.17
After a, for me, relaxed weekend, Monday has brought not just a fine drizzle but a return to the real world. Yes its back to work, Cheer tonight and I need to do some English prep – hopefully we can score pizza tonight.
“I hate this weather.”
“I think everyone does,” Nen agreed as we stared out into the empty garden, the damp having frightened most of our customers away for the day.
"You fancy a slice of torte?”
“I could be convinced, coffee?” Nen allowed.
"Might as well.”
And so we were eating the profits when Mum rode into the garden.
"Well this is a fine welcome,” Mum opined.
"Quick Nen, get the band cranked up while I find my pinny.”
"Hi Frau Bond, you want coffee?”
"Please Nena.”
“I suppose you want to come inside,” I suggested.
"Thought you'd never ask daughter mine,” Mum grinned.
Talk about whippets, before I could get to the door she was waiting and in moments was dripping over our nice clean floor – I hope the hygiene people don't turn up.
"There's towels in the stock room.”
"Cheers,” Mum allowed as she divested herself of mitts and helmet.
"Hmm, that's better.”
"What are you out in this for?” I had to ask.
"Bit of acclimatisation for the weekend, forecast is wet in Kent.”
"Shoulda ridden in Bavaria with me, they reckon its gonna be in the thirties down there.”
"You get your stripes and I'll get mine,” she grinned.
"So what time did you get back last night?”
"Late young lady,” she told me with one of those 'don't be so nosey' looks.
"Was only asking, you want food while you're here?”
“its Herr Thesing's Gulasch pies today,” Nena advised.
"Gulasch?” Mum queried peering into the warmer.
"He's been experimenting, putting a Germanic twist on things.”
"Go on then.”
"Pommes?”
“I shouldn't but I guess I can get in full English mode,” she smirked.
"Park your bum then.”
Max was about due so I put plenty of Frites on just to be ready, pretty sure he'll have the pie too.
Von Strechau arrived just as the chips were finished but also at the precise moment that the drizzle was replaced by the sudden change to the much heavier precipitation of a thunderstorm.
"You timed that well,” Nena almost shouted at him above the noise of the wet.
"Get in here you lummox,” I suggested.
A moment later he was inside.
"Oh hi Frau Bond.”
"Hi Max.”
Yeah, there's not gonna be any lip locking with Mum here but what can you do?
"Here,” I presented him with a towel and a coffee.
"Thanks.”
"So you off to the stables then?” Mum queried.
"Yeah,” Max agreed as he wiped himself down, "Mum rides the thing, I do the maintenance.”
"Wish it worked like that with bikes.”
“Isn't that what Dad does?” I suggested.
Mum turned on me, "No its not young lady, he is not your lackey.”
“I never said...”
"Your father works very hard so you and the girls can race.”
“I know.”
Nena and Max wisely kept quiet during Mum's outburst, Nen busying herself plating up the food while Max sipped at his coffee.
"Well it was different,” Mum noted as she placed her cutlery on the cleared plate.
"Out of ten?”
"Eight?” she suggested, "Max?”
"Hmm? Oh the pie, yeah eight or eight and a half.”
"Maybe some Hendo's1 would lift it a bit,” Mum added.
"Like I can pop to Penny and get a bottle,” I pointed out.
"Just saying, anyhow now my daughter has fed me I'd best get on, I need to pack for the weekend.”
"What was that all about?” Nena queried after Mum departed.
"No idea,” I admitted.
“I'd best get off too,” Max told us.
"Not without this,” I pulled his head down and did my limpet impersonation.
"Get a room!” Nen complained.
“Urgh,” I managed pulling free, "Your sopping and you taste of goulash!”
"You fed it to me,” Max offered in his defence while Nena stifled a laugh.
"At least the rains eased off,” my friend advised.
“I suppose I should get off,” Max sighed.
The rest of the day was just as much of a washout, lets face it, no one in their right mind would be out in this weather unless they had to be. Whilst I had ridden up this morning, I joined Nena on the Express to get back to Dernau. As a result I was actually a few minutes later than usual getting home.
"Where've you been?” Mand asked when I reached the kitchen.
"Dur, work?”
“I know that but you're late.”
“it is raining and I caught the Rug down, so what's all the rush?”
"Your Dad wants to drop us off early.”
“Urgh! What for?”
She shrugged, "Dunno.”
I sighed deeply, “I'd best get changed then, what time?”
"Quarter past.”
"Bum.”
Today of all days, we've not done much but I'm well tired, I was looking forward to a relaxing shower. Instead I've got like twenty minutes to shower and change, time enough but not to relax. I headed to my eyrie all of a mumble.
"So what's so urgent?” I enquired once inside the A Klasse.
"You want to ride this weekend?”
"Er yeah,” where is this going?
"How are we getting there?” Dad asked.
"Flying?”
"And what do we need for your bike to fly?”
"A bag thing.
"Precisely, I'm borrowing one from your friend Hen which I need to collect this evening.”
"But we've already got a bag,” I pointed out.
"Yes kiddo but you need two bikes unless you don't want to do the time trial?”
"You have to do both Gab,” Mand advised.
"What about Tal and Gret?”
"What about them?”
"Well won't they need two bikes too?”
"They're only doing the road, they didn't qualify for the Test.”
"Qualify? I've not done that have I?”
“I think being the world champion qualifies you kiddo.”
"Joint,” I pointed out.
"Makes no odds, you got a by on qualifying everyone else has had to get in qualifying performances and we've not exactly been chasing them.”
"Guess not,” I agreed.
"One advantage of being on the BC squad, we all get automatic slots,” Mand advised.
"Tal and Gret are on the German squad though,” I pointed out.
Dad gave a tiny shrug, "The Federation run things differently, anyhow I'll pick you up later.”
I glanced beyond the rain streaked glass, we were already at the Tanzklub and that looks like Hannah's car.
"You're early.”
"Yeah,” I agreed, "Transport.”
"No Pia?” Hannah enquired.
Sugar!
"Like I said, transport,” I managed before searching for my Handy.
As it happens things turned out okay, Inge dropped P off on her way to Ahrbrück visiting her boyfriend – the Stube is closed on Mondays.
"What's up with you?” P asked.
"Well tired.”
"Busy day huh?”
"Hardly, it was so quiet we resorted to doing the Kreuzworträsel2 in Cons Bild.”
"Such a hard life,” P chuckled.
"Hope its busier tomorrow,” I sighed, “I can't stand the boredom or crosswords.”
"Never thought I'd hear you complaining about not working Bond.”
"Yeah well.”
With no competition or other engagement imminent we spent the session just doing some fine tuning and practising the more complicated moves. Everyone was, despite the weather outside, in an upbeat mood, the session was really quite relaxed and although I had to stifle the odd yawn even I enjoyed it. Yeah it was still lagging it down when we finished, everyone sheltering in the doorway for their lifts.
Mum's car pulled into the car park and the three of us, trailing farewells, made a dash for its shelter.
"Good session?” Mum queried spinning the gravel as we set off.
"Yeah, thought Dad was picking us up?”
"He was on the phone with England.”
"We are still getting pizza?” Mand enquired.
"Dunno about that,” Mum teased.
“I haven't had any tea,” I mentioned.
"Oh I suppose we can stop then.”
There would've been a mutiny if she'd said no, we'd of had to get it delivered! We pulled up outside the shop far quicker than usual.
"Here,” Mum handed me a couple of twenty notes, “I'll have the Pollo al Forno.”
Maddy Bell © 08.08.17
The rain called it a day (or is that night) sometime during the night, instead of wet when we surfaced we were instead treated to heavy mist as the morning warmth warmed the valley. Out of all possible weather fog and mist is perhaps my least favourite, you can dress for wet, snow and heat, but fog, well you can't see a thing, no one else can see you, its just unpleasant all round. Just as well I got a lift up to Altenahr with the Brotchen as Dad's collecting me later to go training in Neuweid with the BC guys.
By mid morning the mist had pretty much disappeared and a steady trickle of tourists joined the locals in their search for snacks and drinks. I have to say that apart from being a bit, lets say abrasive, our Dutch visitors are quite conservative, not for them the delights of pastry wrapped around a delicious meat filling, nope even Frikadel are fairly safe, its the Würsten that they go for.
"Two more Currywürst and one with Pommes,” Kris requested.
"On the way.”
Yeah it was a tour group all on their huge trekking bikes, beige clothing and bad German. So bad in fact that even Kris was having to use some English, which they seem to understand quite well, to communicate.
"You should take the orders, you have good English Gab.”
"Ha, if only, even Con got a higher grade than me,” I admitted.
"But you're English.”
Am I? Drew was English but me, the now me, Gaby, well I was born here, the Ahr valley. Drew would be heading to England this weekend but Gaby is going to Bavaria, accepted by one and all as German despite my birth place and parentage. Did I plan this? Do I want it?
"Its where I was born Kris, doesn't make me expert on the language.”
"Didn't you get some prize in German?”
"Erm,” trust her to remember that, "Two Currywürst.”
The conversation was still playing through my head when Max put putted into the kiosks yard. I plated up his schnitzel and fries and met him at our usual table.
"No sauce?”
"You want sauce?”
"No, no its fine,” he backtracked, "Busier today.”
"Yeah,” I agreed as I idly nicked a chip and chewed on it.
"Don't you get fed up of Pommes?”
"What are you saying, that I'm fat? I don't have many.”
"Whoa girl, I never said anything like that, I just meant you spend all day cooking them so you might be fed up of them.”
"Hmmph,” I allowed, "I guess it would be nice to have proper chips sometimes.”
"Like your English chips? The big ones?”
"Yeah,” I allowed with a sigh, big soggy chips like Hygenic Fisheries back in Church Warsop.
"So why don't you do them then?”
"It's not my decision.”
"You could do some when Thesing isn't here,” he suggested.
“Maybe, Max?”
"Hmm?” he replied around a mouthful of schnitzel and Pommes.
"What do you think I am?”
"A good cook? My girlfriend?”
"Fifty percent isn't bad I guess, no, do you think of me as German or English?”
"Never thought about it, German I guess.”
"You do?”
"Yeah, what is it your sister says, something about ducks?”
"If it looks, sounds and acts like a duck it probably is a duck?”
"That's the one, well you dress like a German, you sound like a German and you act like one so you must by default be one.”
“Really?”
"Now Mandy, she is definitely English, her German is horrible and even in the Kostüm she looks and acts foreign.”
"How can you act foreign?”
"I dunno, she just does, like she's trying to fit in.”
"She is and her German's improved a lot.”
"Yeah but she has to think about it, she thinks in English, you think in German.”
"I do? How can you tell?”
"Simple, you just talk, Manda has to translate all the time.”
"Hmm, never even thought about it.”
“My point exactly, you gonna leave me some of those?”
"Eh,” I looked at my hand, I've been munching chips all through our conversation, "Soz.”
"You can make it up to me in a bit.” he hinted.
"I'm going to Neuweid after work.”
"Training for Bavaria eh?”
"Yeah, we're going Thursday so its the last proper sesh.”
"I really must get one of those,” Nen sighed.
"One of what?” I queried adding Max's plate to the dishwasher pile.
"Boyfriend.”
"Yeah,” Kris agreed.
"He's not...”
“Gab, he is most definitely your boyfriend,” Nen stated.
"I was gonna say he's not available.”
"She could hardly deny they're an item,” Kris opined.
"Haven't you two got stuff to do instead of discussing my love life?” I suggested as I felt the colour rising in places too personal to divulge and my face too.
"She has a love life!” Nen gleefully announced.
"And I'm on my lunch now you've done.”
I did a forehead slap before rolling my eyes, one day!
“Ready for Maidstone?” Jamie asked as we climbed up the Wiedtal out of Niederbieber.
“Maidstone?”
"The Champs Bond,” Cav chipped in from behind.
"I'm not going,” I advised.
"Not doing the Nationals?” Geth added, "Why not?”
"Er, I'm doing the German.”
"I thought you were English,” Jamie mentioned.
“Must be confusing me with someone else,” I joked.
"That Drew kid,” Cav opined.
"Who he?”
“Just some lad from last year, so where are the German champs then?” Cav pressed.
"Somewhere in Bavaria near Austria?”
"That's a long drive,” Geth suggested.
"We're flying,” I bragged.
"Alright for some,” Jamie sighed.
This evenings ride is supposed to be a 'Zone 3' effort what Caroline describes as fast conversation. That's actually quite a good description for a steady twenty, twenty five kph ride – too fast and you can't talk beyond short snatches but hard enough to need to keep up the effort. Instead of splitting us by gender, we're all out together for a change, its good to be able to chat to the lads, at least the conversation doesn't revolve around lipstick and boy bands.
"So when do you go to England?”
"Thursday, you?” Daz replied.
"Same.”
"How's the shoulder?”
"Okay I guess,” to be fair I'd pretty much forgotten about it, "Aches a bit from time to time. Yours?”
"Same really, bit sore if I swing it like this,” he mentioned as he demonstrated, "Ow!”
"Well don't do it then dummy,” Claire pitched in.
"Boys,” we both chorused.
"Have you seen the course for Sunday Gabs?” Tal enquired.
"Looks simple enough.”
"It goes over a Pass,” she bleated.
"It does?”
"Not much of one,” I pointed out.
"Yeah well, I hate hills.”
"I bet it won't be half as bad as the 'Ring the other week.”
"Easy for you to say Fräulein Bergenziege!”
"Baaa!”
"Never thought we'd be doing this when we were at Eastway man,” Josh noted.
"That was the last time I did the champs.”
"Aye, me too, well cept the hill climb like.”
"Beat you there too,” I mentioned.
"Ah've just got to lose Cav this time.”
"And that new Wogan kid.”
"Aye,” the big Toon mused.
"And I've just got some Bavarian Fran and Barb were on about that I've never heard of.”
"Who are Fran and Barb like?”
"From up Roni's way.”
"She riding in Bayern?”
"Dunno, probably.”
"Tell her hi if you see her.”
"Will do,” I agreed.
And so the conversations went on, we followed the river up and up into the Westerwald, indeed all the way to Altenkirchen before starting a loop back slightly more directly towards the Rhein. By the time we started the drop towards Neuweid we had close to a hundred kilometres in our legs and the sun was low on the horizon. Of course find any group of bike riders and there will be an element of competition at some point and this evening was to be no different.
The others seemed to know where the line would be, the speed ramped up and the non sprinters slipped off the back. That still left half a dozen of us charging for the line, I'm guessing the yellow name board some three hundred metres ahead. I slipped onto Cav's wheel, he's the one to watch right? How wrong can you be, Mand shot past, Geth on her wheel, by the time I realised Cav wasn't following it was too late.
"Thought you'd be going for it,” I suggested as we freewheeled back towards the house.
“Geth owes me ten euros,” he grinned.
"For what?”
"Holding you off.”
"But you could've won.”
"Everyone has their price, and I didn't feel up to it tonight.”
"Hmmph!”
"You should thank me.”
"For why?”
"You'll be fresher at the weekend.”
"As if, I've got the time trial on Friday.”
"You'll owe me forty euros if you don't win that.”
"How'd you work that out?”
"That's how much it'll cost me.”
"Eh?”
"There's a book on you.”
"You what?”
"I bet the others you'll win.”
"Hmmph! What about the road race then?”
"Not enough info but you're a cert against the clock.”
"You've more confidence than me,” I admitted.
Maddy Bell © 08.08.17
The food Angela had waiting for us this evening was a bit less rabbit although sadly lacking the red meat I found myself hoping for. No, instead it was some sort of fish mixed in with the pasta shells, sweetcorn and other unidentified salad stuff. I guess it wasn't so bad but its not food for a growing girl is it?
Without any dramas or race planning it was comparatively early when Dad indicated it was departure time.
“Good luck in England guys!” I called into the lounge.
"And you,” Claire offered in return.
"Forty euros,” Cav added.
"What about us?” Tal mumped.
"Well I'll be seeing you on Thursday.”
"Oh yeah,” she agreed.
I dunno, you just can't get the team mates these days!
"So what was that about with Mark?” Mand queried as we settled into the back seat.
Angela's up front as she's coming to Bavaria and needs to go home first, Dads running her up in the morning so she's staying at ours tonight.
"Apparently they're betting on me winning on Friday.”
"No pressure!”
"I guess I've got a reasonable chance.”
"Trust Cav to put money on it, what about the road race?”
"Apparently I'm less of a cert for that.”
"Au contrare, I'd put money on you.”
"Thanks for your confidence, there's that Bavarian though, don't think I've ever raced against her before.”
"Pah! If she was that good she'd be racing the Jungere League.”
"I guess,” I allowed.
"What are you two mumbling about?” Dad asked as we crossed old Father Rhein.
"Nothing,” I suggested.
"The mystery Bavarian,” Mand told him.
"Hardly a mystery,” he observed.
"Well how come we've never raced her then?”
"She lives in America,” Dad told us.
"America? And she comes back just to ride the championships?”
"Why doesn't she do the American ones?” Mand queried.
“Different rules over there I guess,” Pater suggested.
"Its a bit off,” I proposed.
"No more than if you'd gone to England,” Angela opined.
I suppose she has a point.
"I guess.”
In my head she looks like Heidi but I revised that to a female Lance, all teeth and hair – guess I get to see the real thing at the weekend.
"Make sure you're packed when I get home this evening,” Dad instructed.
"Really? We're not going until tomorrow,” I complained.
"We need to collect the others on the way to the airport so tonight please.”
"Yes Dad,” I sighed before heading down to collect my transport.
"Bye Gaby,” Angela offered.
"Yeah, laters!”
"Hello, anyone in?”
I jerked to attention, "Oh sorry Con, what?”
“Geez Gab, you're on a different planet today.”
"Sorry.”
"I asked if you wanted coffee?”
"Er yeah, please.”
"So what's the big distraction, can't be Max with that face.”
"Nah, its this weekend in Bayern, did I tell you the Brits are betting on me?”
“Like with the Defer?” she asked starting my beverage brewing.
"That sort of thing,” I agreed.
"Are they allowed to do that?”
"Oh its only between themselves but its like extra pressure.”
"You want my advice?”
"Why not,” I allowed with a sigh.
"Just do your best.”
"That it?”
She shrugged, "What more do you want, one of those game plan things? I'm not your coach.”
To be honest her input was about as sensible as anything anyone else has said this week. I mean its not that I don't want to win, I do its just all the other baggage that is being hung on my performance. Yeah maybe if I just treat it as another race instead of building it up to this monstrous achievement, it'll hardly be the end of the world not to win will it?
"So what are you doing tonight?” Max enquired around a mouthful of fried potato – boys!
“Dunno, washing my hair?”
"You don't fancy the vineyards then?”
"I have to pack for the weekend,” I moaned.
"Won't take all night will it?”
“Guess not,” I agreed.
"Meet you at seven thirty then?”
I quickly ran things through the timeline in my head, ride home, pack, cook dinner, "You could come for dinner?”
"Really?”
"The rents aren't stupid Max, we could eat then 'go for a walk'.”
"I guess.”
"I'm doing shepherds pie?”
“Go on then, what time?”
"We'll eat at seven so a bit before?” I suggested.
"Sounds cool.”
"I sense a nose ring session tonight,” Kris posited.
"Might be,” I allowed.
"You can't fool us,” Con grinned.
"Oh Maxxie, we can have a snog.” Kris started off in a squeaky voice before switching to a deeper tone, "Only if you wear the ring, anything for you Maxxie!”
"I do not sound like that! and I don't always wear the ring.”
"You will tonight,” Con surmised.
"Might do,” I allowed.
"Next she'll be dressing up for him,” the hired help suggested.
"Will not!”
"So what's he want you to wear?” Con chased.
"The Garde uniform?”
"O M G, that is so pervy!”
"Weird,” Con added.
"Well its not happening anyway, he gets me as I come.”
"But preferably with the nose ring,” Con smirked.
Once home I got the food sorted and in the oven before going up to pack for the weekend. Packing, yeah, not exactly my strong point. I pulled out my case and started to pull everything together for three days in deepest Bavaria.
I heaved the case downstairs to the sound of my parents and boyfriend entering the house.
"All packed kiddo?” Dad enquired.
"If its not in there its not going.”
"Bike shoes? Knickers?” Mum suggested.
Okay, I've forgotten both in the past.
"Inside,” I stated, “dress for dinner, spare sports BH, mitts, skin suit, bibs.”
"I'll check it after dinner,” Mater advised, "I don't trust your packing.”
"So when's dinner?” Dad asked.
I checked my watch, "Ten minutes? Its shepherds pie.”
"I'll set the table then.”
"Put the wine glasses out Dave, we'll have a bottle of red with it,” Mum told us.
Hmm, wine, nice!
"Anything I can do?” Max queried.
"Take the plates through and help Dad?”
It might be summer but that doesn't mean you eat salad all the time, well not in our house at any rate. I checked the pan before flash boiling the veggies, very trad peas, carrots and cauliflower. The dish was out of the oven, the veg decanted to dishes, something's missing – ah, gravy – kettle on then.
"Ready?” Mum enquired from the doorway.
"Just doing some gravy.”
"Smells good.”
"You could take some stuff through?”
"Yes boss.”
Well she could've cooked tonight, I seem to land the job most of the time these days, Jules is hardly here, Mand can burn water, Dad would do something on toast all the time and Mum's not home much either and tries to avoid the job.
"Mmm!” Max supplied, "That was brill Gabs.”
"A girl of many talents,” Mum opined.
"Its hardly rocket science,” I pointed out.
"Well I wouldn't know where to start,” Dad admitted.
"I guess you could make it on toast,” I chuckled.
"I can do more than toast,” Dad huffed.
"Beans?” I suggested.
"Huh!”
Max sniggered into his glass.
"So what's your speciality Max?” Mum enquired.
"Pasta?”
"Po, carbonnara, bolognese?”
"Er no, just the pasta, you know boil the water and put the pasta in?”
"As bad as you Dave,” Mum grinned, "You'll have to give him some lessons Gab or you'll be stuck in the kitchen.”
"Mu-um!” I complained.
"Just kidding Princess.”
"Mu-um!”
They'll have me married off and tied to the stove before the summers out at this rate.
"Any pud?” Dad queried.
I hadn't planned on it but there is some rice pud in the fridge, "Custard and rice?”
"Ooh, sign me up,” Mum gleefully stated.
"Custard and rice?” Max queried.
"Food of the goods,” Dad told him, "Pass your plate lad.”
Maddy Bell © 11.08.17
Okay, I guess Soße Anglais mit Pudding Reis is a bit, er, unusual, even in a land of food weirdness, Max was certainly a bit dubious, not helped by Dad insisting on adding strawberry jam to his. It was closer to eight than seven when we finished consuming.
“We're going for a walk,” I announced to anyone interested as Max stacked the dishes.
“Don't be too long,” Dad suggested, “long day tomorrow.”
“Yes Dad,” I allowed with a roll of the eyes.
“Where're we going?” Max asked as I dragged him out the door.
“Where do you think, Bonn Bahnhof?”
“Erm.”
“Come on dummy.”
It's not far to the entrance of the exercise route and we were soon climbing the trail towards our favoured hidey hole.
“Quick!” Max instructed pulling me off the path and into the rows of vines.
“What..”
A hand was slapped across my mouth, “shush, she'll hear.”
“Who?” I whispered once I'd removed Max's hand.
“Frau Busybody.”
“Frau Holdorf?”
“The same, she's just coming down the path.”
Its not Frau Holdorf that's the problem of course, its her dog, Fritzy seems to have a thing for me.
“Fritzy! Come back here this instant!”
I had to stifle a laugh.
“Shsshh,” Max instructed from behind a finger.
“Soz.”
The “wroof!” was far too close but the following padding of feet was away from us at least.
“What have you got there boy?” there was a few seconds of silence then, “a wallet? Probably one of those jogger types dropped it, best take it to Sergeant Meijke. Come on Fritz.”
We stayed amongst the vines maybe a little longer than strictly necessary, I could hardly contain my giggles.
“We should go back,” Max suggested sometime later.
I sat up onto his stomach and looked down at him,”worn out already?”
“No, but its nearly ten,” he pointed out.
“And?”
“And we'll both get it in the neck if we're too late getting you home.”
My Handy chirped for attention, I located it in the top of my knickers – well a girl has to be inventive when she hasn't got pockets! I opened the mail and sighed.
“That'll be your Dad then.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “guess we'd best call it a night.”
I climbed off him then tugged him upright as you do. I did a quick appearance check using the phones screen as a mirror.
“Ready?”
“Er,” Max managed as he did the stuff check, feeling into pockets to confirm original findings, you know like his mofa keys, “I'm sure I brought my wallet.”
“Its probably back at the house,” I suggested.
“Yeah,” he didn't sound convinced.
“Come on then, last one to the gate goes home naked!”
So okay I'm not the best of runners as you know but I did have a head start.
“Is there a good reason why my daughter is waving your shirt around her head?” Mum queried.
“Not really Frau Bond,” Max allowed snatching his shirt from my grip.
“He lost a bet,” I crowed.
“You cheated!” he accused, “you haven't found my wallet have you Frau Bond?”
So that started a search of Schloss Bond for the missing leather goods.
“Bum!” Max stated as we came up empty handed.
Then a thought hit me, “didn't Fritzy find a wallet?”
“Not her please!” Max over dramatised.
“Her?” Dad queried.
“Frau Holdorf, she was walking Fritz up in the vineyard earlier,” I supplied.
“Is it worth popping round?” Mum suggested.
“She was going to take it to the Polizei.”
“Why didn't you say anything then?” Dad asked.
“I didn't know I'd dropped it then,” Max supplied with a sigh.
“Come on lad, I'll run you round to the station,” Dad stated.
“Do I want to know about the shirt?” Mum asked after the men had departed.
“Probably not,” I admitted.
“Just remember girl, boys have feelings too.”
“I know,” I almost whined.
“Hmm, don't tease him too much eh, he's a nice lad.”
“Mu-um!”
“I checked your case, I've put you some socks in, you only had one pair.”
“Yes mum,” was that it? I must be improving.
“Wait for me,” I squeaked.
The others were thirty metres ahead chatting away while I struggled with my case and bike box – the borrowed one from Han is one of those hard plastic things which does at least have wheels.
“Come on slow coach,” Gret encouraged in her own unique way.
Of course being in the minibus we had to park miles from the terminal and even though Bonn/Köln is only fairly small as airports go it still left us with a fifteen minute walk to the internal check ins. We must look a right sight, Angela pushing a trolley of stuff and the rest of us towing cases and bikes through the terminal. Finally though we reached the Air Berlin desk and we started the job of checking in all of our luggage.
We eventually got through to the gate – it was less fuss than when we went to Japan, well we are only going one end of the country to the other I guess rather than halfway around the world. Gret and Tal were quite excited but I'm an old hand at this flying lark now, America, France, Japan, yeah a right jet setter aren't I. It wasn't a long wait and we were making our way down to the A319 that's gonna whisk us south.
The flight left the terminal a couple of minutes after the advertised eleven forty and we hardly seemed to be airborne for a couple of minutes before we were approaching Munich.
“Is that the Alps?” Gret excitedly asked which resulted in Tal and myself craning to look out of the tiny porthole.
“Must be,” I surmised, “there's even snow on some of them.”
“Cool!” Gret stated.
“I hope the race doesn't go up that high,” Tali opined.
“Don't be daft, its only on the very tops.”
“I thought Bayern was all mountains, it looks pretty flat down there to me.”
As the aircraft banked around more of the pancake like plain that sits to the north and east of Munich came into view. Its probably not as flat as it looks from up here but its certainly not mountains.
“How far?” I complained.
We've been landed fifteen minutes and we haven't even got to the luggage bands although we have had a short ride on a train thing.
“It can't be far now,” Dad suggested as we waited to board another escalator.
“At least we aren't carrying our bags all this way,” Angela offered as we followed the other passengers downwards again.
“I can see the bikes,” I told the group, the bags and boxes came into view stacked in an area adjacent to the luggage bands.
“Right,” Dad started, “I'll collect the bikes and I'll meet you at the luggage pickup.”
“On your own Dave?” Angela queried.
“They'll all fit on a trolley,” Dad stated.
“Band 12,” I advised spotting a board with the info on.
Once off the escalator we split up, our bags were already doing the circuit by the time we arrived – maybe the long journey to reclaim is so they can get the bags here before us? Anyhow Gret found a trolley and by the time Dad joined us with our stack of bikes we had the cases balanced on it. Now we just need to get to the car hire stations.
“How do we get all this lot in one car?”
“All sorted,” Dad advised.
“How?”
“You'll see.”
The five of us made our way outside into some sort of plaza then across to the Avis office where all of us bar Dad were surprised to find Dieter and Sonja, Gret's parents.
“Mum! Dad!” Gret ran the remaining distance to greet them.
“Everything okay?” Dad enquired.
“As clockwork,” Dieter advised, “you just need to go in and sign the paperwork Dave.”
“Best go and do it then.”
Dad disappeared inside, the rest of us settled on a bench to wait.
“So how's the Exhauster going Angela?” Sonja asked.
“Its certainly keeping me busy, you haven't driven down have you?”
“No, flew from Berlin, we got here what, two hours ago?”
“Ja,” Dieter confirmed.
“Why didn't you say?” Gret demanded.
“Thought we'd surprise you, Roni not with you?”
“The seniors drove down yesterday,” Angela supplied, “they're probably out training by now.”
“Think I'd rather fly,” Tal stated.
“That was quick,” Dieter suggested as Dad rejoined us.
“No one else in there, shall we get off then?”
“We gonna eat sometime?” I enquired.
“Let's get out of the airport first eh kiddo?”
“Yes Dad,” I sighed.
“I've got some of the 'flap jack' in the box if you can wait until we get to the bus,” Angela offered.
You've done the car hire thing right? After another mini hiking adventure we found our transport for the next few days a pair VW T5 buses. For speed we shoved the bikes and cases all into one and the human cargo all clambered aboard the other. Which meant I didn't get the flapjack as we were already on the autobahn heading towards the Münchener Ring by the time I remembered.
In fact it was over an hour before we pulled in to the Seeshaupt rest area by which time I wasn't the only one flagging, we haven't eaten since frühstück.
“I could eat a horse,” I suggested as we made our way into the restaurant.
“You aren't in Belgium you know,” Tal giggled.
“Har de har.”
“They don't do they?” Gret queried.
“It has been known,” I confirmed.
“That's like, like...” Gret spluttered.
“Like eating snails?” I giggled.
Maddy Bell © 14.08.17
I was all for a full on blow out but Dad restricted us to more of a snack – I managed to get a bowl of bean salad to go with my Gulaschsuppe. It did fill a hole and apparently we're booked in for a proper nosh at our accommodation later this evening.
“Come on guys, we've still got a way to go,” Dad chivvied.
“Really? I thought we flew to save all the driving?”
“Still have to do some kiddo.”
“Shoulda gone with the others to Kent, they'll be there now,” I grumbled.
“The ferry takes longer than our flight did,” he pointed out, “and I don't think Caro was expecting to get to Canterbury before six.”
“Hmm,” I allowed.
“Come on, it's only about an hour to Peißenberg.”
“Peißenberg? I thought we were going to this Steingaden place?”
“George did the booking, apparently its only a short drive to Steingaden from the hotel.”
Yeah, like two or three hours I bet.
We actually came off the autobahn at the next junction and after skirting one of Bavaria's lakes started traversing a hilly but unexceptional landscape of woodland and green meadows first to Weilheim where we picked up signs for our destination. But of course that wasn't where the hotel was, oh no we continued through Peißenberg and started climbing. I guess the clue's in the name, Haus Hohenpeißenberg, our accommodation turned out to be one of several large hotels more used to a winter sports clientele.
The clue to being the right place was the Apollinaris bus parked outside but Roni and Tina were the clinchers.
“Who am I with?”
Everyone else's accommodation arrangements were fairly obvious, Dad and Dieter, Sonja and Angela, Gret and Tal which left me.
“Sorry kiddo, thought I said,” Dad suggested.
“You're with me titch,” Ron advised.
“Titch! Why you....” I set off in pursuit of my room mate.
“Don't forget your bag!” Dad called after me.
It might be the National Championships which are supposed to not be a team event but here in the hotel at least we are, a team that is, which means dressing for dinner in the hated blue frocks.
“I didn't think I'd want to wear one of those again,” Ron noted.
“What's wrong with that then, looks better than this.”
“You kidding? Ever tried keeping a light dress clean, its a nightmare, can you do us up?”
“Never thought about it, this just goes in the washer,” I mentioned as I zipped her up.
“We don't get that luxury so we have to use the hotel services most of the time.”
“Bummer, even for your, you know BH and stuff?”
“Hand wash in the sink, welcome to the glamorous world of professional cycling.”
“Mum's never said anything.”
“Its hardly something to advertise is it, 'race bikes and become a laundress', cheers.”
“Guess not.”
“Thought you were hungry Gabs,” Tal opined.
“I was, am.”
“You guys chatting or eating,” Anja queried from the restaurant door.
“Coming, coming.”
The senior team are of course somewhat depleted here, Mum's contesting the UK event and Erika the Belgian so apart from Ron, Anja and Tina there's only Maria and Anita. They're all doing the road on Sunday but only Ron and Anja are doing tomorrows Test. In the dining room riders were sat around one table, support staff another couple – the only other diners looked like they were the owners of the couple of Goldwings parked outside.
“Looking forward to tomorrow?” Anita asked as we demolished the jar of breadsticks as we waited for the main course to arrive.
“I guess.”
“Looks like a stinker of a course.”
“'Nita!” Tina admonished, “don't listen to her Gaby, I guess you might call it sporty but its got a good surface.”
“You've been around?”
“Well we had to do something today,” Maria chuckled.
“No swanning around airports for us,” Ron chipped in.
“Pah!” Tal spat, “all we've done is walk and walk!”
Thankfully George is still 'old skool' enough to feed his riders properly, pork medallions, admittedly with rice and a selection of legumes and brassicas provided our main course followed by profiteroles and ice cream – none of BC's 'healthy' menu here! It was great to be part of this group, treated as an equal, at the BC table its, well its different, like I'm not really one of them somehow. The interaction of these women ranging from Roni to Maria who's old enough to be her mother, well they just seem to get on.
“Okay kiddo?” Dad asked as we hit the breakfast buffet.
“Bit nervous,” I admitted.
“You'll be fine.”
“But I haven't even seen the course,” I half whined as I ladled yoghurt over my fruit salad.
“You hadn't seen it in Denmark last year either if you recall.”
“But I did have some course notes.”
“And you do today, it should suit you well, its out and back with a sort of roundabout turn according to George.”
“Really?”
“Sounds a bit like the O2, generally downhill on the outward leg and a climb back, forty kilometres for you so ride it like a twenty five.”
“If I can remember.”
“I seem to recall you set a course record last summer.”
“You know about that?”
“Of course I know about it, your Gran told us how 'Gaby' and Amanda insisted on riding and then Caro mentioned it when we were in Italy.
“Oh.”
“Oh come on Gab, its not like a bad thing, you'll do fine later.”
“Yeah,” I replied without emotion.
I actually joined the rest of Team Apollinaris for the ride across to Steingaden, a steady ride which just about fulfilled the job of warm up. Of course I'll still have thirty minutes on the turbo before I start but after not riding yesterday my legs are at least looser now. I changed footwear and went with Ron and Anja to sign on.
“We're all in one event?”
Anja shrugged, “guess it makes sense, the men have their event we have ours.”
“Gives you someone to chase,” Ron suggested.
I looked at the start sheet again, the seeding was nothing the CTT would recognise, according to Anja its tradition for the defending champion to start last, my world title trumps the national one so that's me off last. Ahead of me are the other twenty five junior entrants and then its the seniors, under 23's like Ron randomly mixed in. we do at least start at minute intervals.
To be honest I didn't recognise most of the names, some will be time trial specialists of course but others like Miss America simply don't ride the Jungere League. Miss America, Elise von Stuygen originally from Passau now resident across the pond, last years road race champion starts three minutes before me. I've not seen her yet, not that I'm bothered, why would I be?
I might be Weltmeisterin but here I still have to wear my team strip rather than the stripes – I still get the rainbows around the sleeves though.
“Seems strange seeing you in Apollinaris colours,” Ron observed as we helped each other into our skinsuits.
They might be very 'aero' but they are a bit of a pain. I mean, you can't hide anything when they are so thin and tight, you can almost read the brand on my BH. But not just that, getting into them requires you to be a contortionist, the zips are never long enough to make it easy.
“It does happen,” I stated.
“Not often,” she scoffed.
“When we ride chippers?” I suggested.
“Okay, I'll give you that.”
“I miss those events,” Ron sighed.
“You do do crits though?”
“Yeah but they're hardly the same, its always some series or other, they're like eyeballs out from the off all the time.”
I guess that sucks a bit.
“Come on you two,” Angela prompted arriving in the changing room.
“Yes mum,” Ron allowed.
I watched last years winner, a girl from over Gret's way, start cautiously down the ramp. Yeah we get the full pro start today, something I'm less than keen on but its not like I get a choice.
“Ninety eight,” the starter intoned.
“Here,” I rolled forward to the gate and the holder grabbed my seat post.
I sat myself onto the saddle and went through my pre flight checks, helmet, glasses, cleats engaged, computer...started, deep breaths, focus, focus.
“Three, two, one, go!”
I was already out of the saddle and I hit the power, no time to worry about the ramp, I was down it and away in barely a second. As soon as I was over the gear I settled into the tri-bars and its game on. I was barely aware of the barriers ending as my heart banged away in my chest, the road ahead clear and smooth.
What they've done is close a length of fairly new road so we bypass all the villages, the road bends about a little, the grades are rideable on the tri-bars, its not a dual carriageway but it's like three lanes. We do have service, a flock of BMW motorbikes carrying our own supplied spares, anything more than a puncture though and we're on our own. The wind, what there is of it, feels like its gonna be behind on the way back, guess I can use a bit more gas for the outward leg.
The key thing in riding a good TT is pacing closely followed by concentration, either one is useless without the other. As I hit the top of the first downslope I forced myself to relax before snicking the gears into top, 52 x 11 – some pre production thing from Campy. The legs were going around like windmills and even into the wind the comp was showing over fifty K.
I had to lose the eleven around the next bend as the road levelled through a bit of a cutting, the wind channelled through the gap providing a substantial wall of invisible air. I was barely aware of riders going the other direction, they seemed to be going okay so no need to change my game plan.
A minute isn't a long time but on the road it can be quite a distance, at thirty kph its half a kilometre, at full on TT speeds we could be talking almost a full kilometre. But there ahead I could make out a rider, not sure who and maybe its the wind reducing the distance but a carrot's a carrot. Pedal Gabs, that's all that matters, pedal as hard as you can, five K down, only fifteen to the turn.
The wind might have closed the distance but it hadn't reduced the time to match, I did a time check against a tree, fifty seven seconds, a sneeze of advantage to me. The road drops towards Fussen in a series of lumps, my eleven sprocket received a couple of short visits but I was maintaining the same speed by spinning the fourteen with less power. Eventually the computer indicated we were approaching the turn and a long straight downhill let me see maybe five riders at various intervals down the road.
One of those inflatable arch things announced the turn zone, not actually a roundabout, more like a fairly wide U turn. On the way in I checked out those ahead of me, I was definitely up on some of them but others maybe not. Well its twenty kilometres uphill with a tailwind to Steingaden, its all or nothing and heck, I'm the Weltmeisterin, no one beats me in a time trial!
I went onto the brakes late, took a wide line and started the return leg. 'Ye ha!' yep, tailwind, I settled back into my tuck and lit the blue touch paper.
Maddy Bell © 15.08.2017
There are pluses and minuses to being small when it comes to bikes, I can lose out big time on anything gravity assisted but on the other hand its an advantage going up and into the wind. Apparently its the rider rather than the bike that make the biggest impact on aerodynamics, I get that, so being small is like getting free power. So anyhow as soon as I was back settled on the tri-bars I concentrated on being just a part of the bike, my legs the only things moving apart from the occasional flick of the gear changer.
Ahead of me the tarmac stretched away empty except for the tiny specks of my fellow competitors away ahead. I glanced at my comp, whoa, fifty three point four kph up hill! I pushed the gear shifter the last click and engaged the 11 sprocket, well might as well use it.The bumps hadn't seemed much going the other direction but as the road veered to the left it revealed a veritable mountain ahead, a mountain with lots of bikes on it. Keep it smooth girl, use the gears, its advantage Bond right? I did another rough time check, forty five, I'm gaining, well if that's my minute girl I'm gaining, can't read the number yet.
By the top of the climb however I could read the number, ninety six so not my minute man. Well, the race isn't over until I cross the line and that's still over fifteen kilometres away so come on Gab, buckle down. I'd been so engrossed in catching the rider directly in front I was surprised when I crested the climb to find a string of riders ahead, all within potential catching distance, oh yeah!
We've been given an overtaking protocol to follow, the slower rider has to move out of the racing line, so I found myself effectively undertaking ninety six as the road levelled off some, one down, lots to go! I started working back up the gears, my speed was still impressive for uphill but almost twenty K below that first wind assisted surge. Partly because of the weird seeding I quickly overtook another three slower riders as the road dragged upwards again but no sign of ninety seven or von Stuygen for that matter.
That changed on the next 'bump', I could see a couple of riders battling their way uphill pretty much alongside each other although their respective service cum judges bikes blocked my view for quite a while. By the time I got a clear view again the conflict was resolved and the slower rider was coming back towards me quite quickly. It seemed like mere seconds before motorbike horns were sounding and I was pulling past.
“F$#*k!”
Well there's no need for that sort of language! Hang on, that wasn't even German, thats flippin' von Stuygen! I concentrated on sitting still but I couldn't resist giving a little finger wave as I drew ahead.
“Urgh!”
I chuckled to myself, nothing like a bit of psychology to help the efforts of the body. Thing is, I've just caught her for four minutes but what's nearly as important is the effect that might have on her come Sunday. Yeah, as Granny Weatherwax might put it, headology goes a long way.
With three quarters of the distance covered one of my top rivals is out of the picture but there's still no sign of last years winner, my minute girl.
“Come on Gab!”
“Up, up, up!”
“Down ten!”
“Dig in Bond!”
“Go girl!”
It looked like most of Team Apollinaris were stood cheering me on as I crested the penultimate bump. I snicked up a sprocket as I passed them, well you have to don't you? Hmm, down ten, I'm guessing that's on the girl I'm chasing, well time to chuck everything that's left into the pot.
This is where pacing really comes in, go too hard now and you blow before the line, not hard enough and there's gas left. Neither is very good but its not an exact science, there's a lot of gut feeling and experience involved. Ahead the road bucked up a final time, from the top its two K downhill to the line, so for me I need to get as much on that climb as possible.
I dropped a cog to keep the revs up, I don't want to waste energy grinding the big gears uphill. I concentrated on riding round, its easy to find yourself stabbing at the pedals at this point but keeping things round and smooth is more effective. And then I was over the top, the inflatable arch at the finish preceded by another at one to go and several riders on the road ahead too.
Well this is it, one last big effort. Back through the gears, thirteen, twelve and eleven, faster, faster, keep the breathing going. I flew under the one kilo dirigible, the legs spinning like a top, the red fog starting to blur my view, not yet, not yet!
“And our Weltmeisterin crosses the line, its going to be close!”
I threw the bike forward and over the line before ceasing the effort and sitting up, my momentum taking me straight through the brake zone and out of the barriered zone. I spotted a patch of grass and pretty much fell off onto it, my feet still clipped in. my chest was heaving, I felt dizzy, urgh.
“Gab!” Dad yelled
“Ungh”
“You alright kiddo? Lets get you unclipped.”
“Breath,” I gasped as instead of unclipping my shoes Dad just removed them before handing my bike off to someone.
“Bloody good ride girl.”
“Minute,” I managed to get out as I closed my eyes and relaxed a bit more comfortably on my back.
“She alright?” I heard Angela ask.
“Think so, give her a minute.”
It was nearly an hour and a half later, after giving samples and watching Anja collect her bronze medal that it was time for the under eighteen prize presentation. I stood behind the stage with the other medallists as the MC droned on and on about sponsors and this and that. I sipped at my can of lemonade, get on with it man.
“In third place, last years winner, with a time of fifty six fifty nine, riding for Hertha Berlin, Paula Breitscheide!"
The tall, stringy girl to my right headed out to the stage, we could hear the cheering and applause as she took her place on the podium.
“Our silver medallist, in fifty six fifty seven, riding for SSC Regensburg, Jo-Anne Ostermann!”
Okay, so that's spoilt the suspense yes I've won.
“And our 2006 under eighteen champion, the current Weltmeisterin, with a time of fifty six twenty three, riding for Team Apollinaris Ahrweiler, Gaby Bond!”
I put down my tinny, straightened my fresh Apollinaris jersey, plastered a smile on my face and joined the others on the stage.
“So which one do you wear?” Tal enquired as I joined the others at the dinner table.
After all the usual stuff, interviews, photo's blah de blah, we eventually set off back to Hohenpeißenberg about seven, George beaming like a Loon, only Ron having a long face having missed a gong by about the same amount that I won by.
“Eh?”
“You can't wear both Gab,” Gret pointed out.
My brain engaged about then, “er I dunno, probably the rainbow?”
“Maybe they'll make you a special one with both,” Tina suggested.
“You gonna do the double on Sunday?” Anita asked along the table.
“Can't see that happening,” I shrugged.
“i don't know,” Maria started, “you could time trial away from them.”
“They're gonna let me do that,” I retorted.
“Well I won't,” Gret put in with a grin.
“Cheers friend,” I told her with a poke in the arm.
“You alright kiddo?” Dad asked finding me sat outside a bit later on.
“Yeah I guess.”
“That was a really mature ride out there today.”
I shrugged, “it was a bit close.”
“The Tour (de France) has been won by less after three weeks, you had forty kilometres and some stiff opposition.”
“I s'pose.”
“So what did Max have to say?”
“How'd you...”
“Phone in your hand and wistful look on your face.”
“Oh.”
“So?”
“You know, congrats and all that.”
“But not the leaping about joy you were expecting?”
“No,” I agreed.
“Its difficult for him and your other friends Gab, if you aren't intimately involved with the training, the preparation and aren't even there, well you can make the noises but it can come across as a bit off hand.”
“I guess.”
“I'm sure he's excited for you.”
“Didn't sound it.”
“Come on, I know just the remedy.”
“You do?”
“I'm told they do an excellent hot chocolate with cream, marsh mallows, the works.”
“Now that I could be interested in,” I allowed with a grin.
“You awake?”
“Hmm?”
“You ever had a boyfriend Ron?” I asked across the dark space of our room.
“Not really,” she mumbled.
“Never?”
“Well there was Joachim in kindergarten, he used to hold my hand.”
“Seriously Ron,” I inrejected.
“Like you and Max? Nope, 's'never happened, why?”
I shrugged, “just wondered, he seemed a bit cool earlier when I rang.”
“You probably disturbed him watching the football.”
“He's not a really a fan, Dad says its because he's not closely involved.”
There was a pause before she spoke again, “i can see that, dad can be a bit like that sometimes.”
“He can?”
“Yeah, he doesn't really get me racing, thinks I should be at university.”
“You could do both,” I suggested.
“Nah, I was never very academic unlike someone I could mention.”
“Just got a good memory for the exams.”
“She says.”
“You never wanted a boyfriend?” I ploughed in and returning to the original subject.
“Not really,” she replied matter of factly, “too much of a distraction.”
“I guess.”
“Well look at you now, you won a national title today and all your bothered about is what Max thinks, you should be enjoying the sensation of being champion, I know I would be.”
“You're probably right.”
“I know I am, can we sleep now?”
“Er yeah, soz.”
“Nite champ.”
“Nite Ron.”
I heard my room mate make herself comfortable and in a few minutes she was gently sawing away. But sleep wasn't coming to me, I lay staring at the grey expanse of the ceiling, my mind still pre occupied with Maximilian von flippin' Strechau. 'well done babe', babe, I'll give him babe!
Somewhere along the line I must have fallen asleep because I was awoken by the toilet light going on.
“'Time is it?”
“Two thirty,” Ron suggested.
“Urgh!”
“You seen outside?”
Why the heck would I? “no.”
“Best take a look, its what woke me.”
Maddy Bell © 17.08.2017
Well okay we're not strictly in the Alps just here, foothills maybe but the torrent outside probably doesn't care about geographical niceties. I clambered out of bed and padded over to the window where I swept the curtain back to reveal Armageddon. The room we're sharing certainly has views down to the mountains but not this morning. Okay, its still dark but that's not the issue, rather its the H²O that's not just slicing down but bouncing off any hard surface it hits, the dimly lit road already looks to be flooded.
“Shit.”
“I dunno how you were sleeping,” Ron mentioned as she joined my rain watching, “it woke me up about an hour ago.”
Oh yeah, the noise. It is absolutely hammering down, it sounds like a hoard of trolls are beating on the roof above us – I am really glad I'm not outside!
“I was tired, not gonna get to sleep again with this going on though.”
“No,” Ron agreed, “you want to see if we can get a drink?”
“Yeah, better than standing here watching it, let me get some clothes on.”
No I'm not naked, I'm just not dressed for public consumption. I quickly pulled my PJ bottoms on, dragged a t shirt over my cami and slid my feet into my trainers.
“Ready?”
“Yep, hang on, key.”
“Ahead of you,” Ron grinned waving the plastic card at me.
“Woke you too?” Anita suggested from a seat across the dimly lit lounge.
“Yeah, well it woke Ron first, there anything to drink?”
“Bars closed but there's a coffee machine behind you.”
“Got it,” Ron advised, “you still have it the same?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll bring it.”
I'd barely taken a sip of my frankly disgusting stewed coffee before pretty much the rest of the team joined us. I guess the rain woke everyone.
“Hmm.”
“Wake up Gab,” a voice suggested.
“Eh?” I cracked a window to the world and closed it again as what was there didn't make sense.
“Come on, we need to get back to our room so we can get showered and stuff before breakfast,” Ron's voice advised.
I tried looking outside my head again, moving slightly to make some sense of the view. It looked a bit like a sleepover except the bodies weren't the Angels and there was far too much in the line of leather furniture going on, where am I?
“Where are we?”
“Hotel lounge,” Ron supplied, “you got the key thing?”
Have I? I patted my self down, “here.”
She grabbed it from my hand, “I'll go up and get started.”
“I'm coming already,” I declared pushing myself upright.
“See you up there.”
Ron disappeared leaving me to find my trainers and a chance to take in the other bedroom refugees. Yep, there were bodies sprawled across most of the furniture, the Luchow's sharing an armchair, Maria laid out on a sofa, you get the picture. Not everyone was still here, I'm guessing Dad went back to his bedroom earlier, Tine was gone too.
Outside looked bright, certainly last nights crescendo was no longer in evidence. I found my second shoe and headed upstairs.
“Bit of a change of plan,” George advised.
Somehow all the late sleepers had made it to frühstück, mostly looking at least semi conscious.
“What's up boss man?” Maria enquired.
“Given last nights weather we're just going to push things back a bit, let the roads dry off a bit, especially those dirt roads through the forest.”
Dirt roads?
George went on, “the forecast is dry the rest of the day so we'll go down to Fussen this morning and ride out from there after lunch.”
“We have to wear our bike kit?” Anita asked.
“No, Dave is sorting out somewhere for lunch where you can change.”
“I am? Er yeah, just bring your stuff down to the buses.”
“So nine o'clock at the reception please ladies,” George concluded.
“Why are we going to this Fussen place?” I asked Dad as he helped supervise the loading of bags and bikes.
“Well it was supposed to be a bit of r & r after checking out tomorrows circuit.”
“'Kay, what's this about dirt roads though?”
“I'm sure I mentioned that.”
“I would've remembered.”
“There's a bit of unmade road on the circuit, should make it interesting eh?”
“Doesn't sound much fun,” I opined, “unless you ride cross.”
“You're quids in then eh kiddo?”
“Back here at half eleven, Dave's got us booked into some place just back up the road to eat and change.”
“Okay boss man, come on girls, I smell shops,” Maria enthused.
And so our motley group joined the other visitors heading into the town.
“Now I know why the name's familiar,” I told Ron a few minutes later as we paused outside a gift shop, “Neuschwanstein Castle.”
“Duh! Didn't you see the signs on the way in?”
“I was doing my nails.”
“Never thought you were so girly.”
“I can do girly,” I stated somewhat defensively.
“You know your mum calls you Princess?” she advised as we made our way through the displays of souvenirs.
“Tell me about it,” I moaned, “I should cut my hair and wear football gear all the time.”
“No good girl, you're too pretty to pull that off.”
At least Ron doesn't use the C word.
“You'd probably look quite cute.”
“Aargh!”
“What's up?”
“Nothing,” I sighed.
“Hey guys!” Gret called over the street, “come see this.”
“Where'd you guys get to?” Anita asked as we all waited to cross to the pickup up point.
“Here and there,” Tal suggested.
Fussen isn't the biggest town and is largely given over to being a tourist destination, and on a bright summer Saturday the place was pretty busy. Once the four of us had completed a sweep of the main street we ended up following signs for the Schloss in the hope of finding a quieter coffee shop than those in the shopping streets. We didn't find beverages but the castle is something else, the actually very utilitarian buildings decorated with ornate painting, the boards called it Trompe something. Anyway, the idea is that it looks flashier than it is, fancy windows and balconies, its quite convincing at first glance.
“Your dad'd like this,” Ron suggested.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “hang on, I'll take some pics for him.”
“You haven't got a camera,” Gret pointed out.
“Who says?” I returned flourishing my Handy.
“We'll meet you down at that shop, I'm sure I saw an Eis fridge in there,” Tal suggested.
George's 'just up the road' was actually best bit of fifteen minutes drive back towards Steingaden.
“We're not going up the cable car are we?” Tali asked.
We all craned to look out at the Tegelberg cable car just leaving the Talstation.
“Nope,” Dad advised as he pulled in beside the other team vehicles, “there's a restaurant up behind.”
I hopped out and joined my senior colleagues at the edge of the car park looking out at the view. And some view it is, of course you look into the distance first, lost as it is in the haze, I bet on a clear day you could see Munich, maybe Augsburg. Closer, nestling closer to the mountain we're stood on, several lakes glinted in the mid day sun, closer still, a bright white church drew the eye.
“That's where we turned yesterday,” Ron suggested, pointing away to our right.
“Really?”
“Looks like it,” Anja confirmed, “doesn't look half as hilly from here.”
“Come on you lot,” Dad chivvied, “we're booked in for twelve.”
Hmm, food, I know we had Eis in Fussen but its been four hours since breakfast.
It was hardly Cordon Bleu but the food was okay, Schweinfilet with rice and vegetables and the obligatory Bayerische bean salad. Our changing facilities amounted to an out of use room at the side of the restaurant, better than the ladies or the minibuses I guess. By the time we'd all used the facilities, the support team had our bikes unloaded ready for our sojourn into the Bavarian countryside.
“Right ladies, Dave, Mike and Petra will follow you as support, I'll see you back at the hotel.”
“Er where are we going?” I ventured.
“There's a map somewhere,” he paused.
“Here,” Maria waved a bit of paper.
“Dave? You okay with where the circuit is?”
“Think so, its fairly straight forward.”
“Okay, enjoy your ride.”
Thats easy for him to say, he's sat in a bus with air con, its quite warm already this afternoon.
Thirty minutes later we were on the circuit we'll be racing on tomorrow, by the tyre tracks out of the puddles still pocking the road, just the latest of many using today for reconnaissance. Todays ride isn't about fitness, killing ourselves to get around quickly, no its all about checking the surface out, looking for attack points, testing ourselves on the gradients.
“You've got to be kidding,” Gret muttered.
“Are you sure its this way Mar?” Tina queried.
“Hang on I'll check with Dave.”
The rest of us stood down and took the opportunity to refuel as Maria rode back to the bus.
“Its gonna be grim if there's much of this,” Ron opined.
“Even grimmer if it rains again,” I added looking down the lane. Lane, that's a laugh, the bit I could see wasn't much more than a wide dirt track without any attempt at a surface. “there's bike tracks.”
“Mountain bike,” Anja suggested as she chewed on an energy bar.
“Brought the wrong bikes then,” Anita put in.
“Its the right way,” Maria stated as she rode back up to us.
“How bad can it be?” I queried.
“Bad, very bad,” Tina intoned.
I pushed off and engaged my cleat before following Maria into the shade of the forest and the start of an interesting half an hour. Despite our misgivings it was all rideable with care, the surface varying from bare compressed earth through chippings to almost pure grass. Its gonna be interesting to say the least tomorrow.
We popped back out onto tarmac and breathed a collective sigh of relief, yeah apart from the usual hazards they've really thrown us a curve ball. By comparison the couple of short sharp climbs offer no challenge, no its gonna be a battle of attrition right enough, may the best women win.
Maddy Bell © 18.08.2017
“Lets hope it doesn't rain tonight.” Anja opined as we wearily made our way into the Haus Hohenpeißenberg.
“At the very least I want to sleep in my bed,” Ron mentioned.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
A night like the last one before the 'big' race won't exactly set us off on the right foot.
“Gut ride ladies?” George queried meeting us in the lobby.
“Its gonna be interesting tomorrow Boss man,” Maria advised.
“Gut, gut, so dinner at seven, Petra will start massages in thirty minutes, schedule on the door.”
Ah yes, a bonus to being with the senior team, a good post ride leg rub, not only that but I'm first on Pet's list which to be fair is in alphabetical order, poor Tali will be last this evening. I won't be anyone's friend though if I'm late so I hurried up stairs to get my shower.
“Ooo!”
“Tight?” Petra asked as she pushed and pulled at my pins.
“Bit,” I allowed.
“You've not pulled it at all?”
“Don't think so.”
“Lets see what we can do.”
“'Kay,” I agreed into the towel I'm leaning on.
The soporific effect of the muscle kneading and manipulation was interrupted several times with twinges of discomfort, have I pulled something then.
“So you still do the dancing stuff?”
“Garde, its not really dancing though.”
“I'm sure your Mutter said something about cheerleading.”
“Oh that, I'm the coach, I don't do the jumping around very much myself.”
“Anything this week?”
I had to think about that, “I did go through a new move with them on Monday.”
“Ah, that's probably it, you've got a small muscle tear here,” she lightly pressed on my inner thigh.
“Ow!”
“You need to be careful if you do that kicking stuff Gaby, good stretching and warm up first eh?”
“We do warm ups.”
“But maybe not enough eh? I'll check it out and maybe put something on it in the morning, right you're done.”
“Thanks.”
I slipped off the table then had to sit on the bed to redress, my legs a little too relaxed for safe one leg knickering! By the time I was ready for public consumption Ron was already on the table.
“Room key's in my shorts.”
“Oh right, cheers,” I rummaged in her shorts, extracting the key card before wobbling out, “see you in a bit.”
You'd think we'd escape team uniform for dinner tonight but George was insistent so I reluctantly went back to our room to dress. When I got inside I checked my Handy, well you do don't you, someone might've called after all, well shiver me timbers there were two missed calls, Mum and Max. dressing can wait, I made myself comfortable on the bed and hit the key to return Mums call.
“Bond.”
“Hi Mum, its Gab?”
“Heya kiddo, I hear congratulations are in order.”
"Only just.”
“It doesn't matter how big the margin is Princess.”
Ooooo! “Guess not, nothing for you?”
“They're younger than me.”
“But you've won the Worlds.”
“That was then Gab's, the girl who won only does time trials.”
“Yeah the other ones on the podium yesterday are specialists, I think they were pretty irked.”
“But I doubt they have your background, all those evenings on Cuckney have paid off eh, what was your course like? it was all lanes here.”
“Well apart from the lack of traffic it was like the O2, down to the turn and a climb back.”
“It was out and back?”
“Yeah.”
“I'm jealous, so your Dad tells me tomorrows course is interesting?”
“Could say that,” I sighed, “there's several K of dirt roads each lap.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“How did Mand get on?”
“Has your Dad not said? I guess not, she needs a new skinsuit.”
“She came off? Is she okay?”
“No she's fine, she won silly, fifteen seconds to your friend Kristen.”
“Excellent!”
“George'll be pleased, I hear Erica took her title too.”
“cool!”
“I need to go eat kiddo, good luck for tomorrow.”
“And you,” I returned.
“And be careful on those tracks.”
“I will, Tschuss”
“Tschuss Gab.”
I shut off my phone, one call down.
I headed to the bathroom for, you know, a wee, when I returned to the main room I could hear knocking on the door.
“You in there Bond?” Ron's muffled tones enquired.
“Hang on,” I requested crossing to let her in, “that was quick.”
“Not really, I was in almost fifteen minutes, what're you up to?”
“Returning a few calls, Mand and Erika both won too.”
“I knew about E, cool for Manda.”
“How'd you know about Erika?”
“She messaged everyone on the team last night.”
“No one said.”
“Probably thought everyone knew.”
I guess us juniors just aren't in the loop.
“Well I need to ring Max now.”
“You want me to get scarce?”
“Nah, I promise not to get too mushy.”
“This I have to see.”
“Heya Gab!”
“Wassup?”
“Eh?”
“you called a bit back?”
“Oh right, just glück for tomorrow really.”
“Er thanks, that it?”
“Well I wouldn't mind a snog.”
“I'm in Bavaria Max, how's that work?”
I could almost hear him shrug, “it was only a thought.”
Daft flippin' thought, “so what're you doing tonight?”
“Working, pity you aren't here, its one of dad's English nights, you?”
“Dinner then just hanging out I guess.”
“Sounds exciting.”
“It was last night, we had the mother of thunder storms, we all ended up sleeping in the lounge.”
“What for?”
“Duh, it was too noisy upstairs.”
“Oh right, hang on.” I could hear some exchange off phone then my man's voice returned, “soz, I need to go, Dad's after me.”
“'Kay,”
“So like good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“'MAX!'” even I heard that across the airwaves, “have to go, he's yelling now, bye.”
“Tschussie,” I offered in return adding a 'mwah!' before he closed the call.
“That sounded interesting and I only heard one side,” Roni opined.
“Not really, he's working tonight.”
“Doing what?”
“His dad's restaurant, working tables and stuff.”
“I thought his family were some sort of toffs?”
“I guess but they still need to make a living.”
“Suppose so,” she allowed, “damn, we'd best get ready.”
“Its only just turned six,” I noted after checking my timepiece.
“My point exactly.”
We weren't the first to the dining room and I was surprised to see what, if I'm not very much mistaken, white wine being consumed.
“What's with the wine?”
“Wine?” Tina queried.
“Its not wine Gab,” Anja being a bit quicker on the uptake advised.
“Looks like wine,” I observed.
“Elderflower presse, try it.”
“Petra makes it up for us,” Maria mentioned as I seated myself.
The presse was actually pretty good, sort of like a flowery cordial, it turned out to be the highlight of the meal. How do you muck up Tagliatelle al Pollo? Well it was eatable but the pasta was glutinous, the sauce watery and the chicken was doing a Pimpernel. The Strudel afterwards was better if a little over spiced for my taste not that anyone was complaining, we're not paying for it ourselves, a luxury most of our fellow competitors don't have.
“You speak to your mother?” Dad asked as we found seats in last nights sleeping quarters.
“Yeah.”
“She said she'd call on your mobile.”
“Had to call her back, I was with Pet when she rang.”
“Talking of which, she mentioned you've torn a muscle?”
“More of a pull,” I proposed.
“You need to be more careful kiddo.”
“I do try, she said something about putting something on it in the morning.”
“Hmm, okay.”
It was a strange atmosphere in the lounge, officially of course tomorrow is an individual race, every rider for themselves, no team orders. But of course there will be some team connivance going on, in the senior race more than the junior. It also puts George and especially Dad in an awkward position, they can't really insist on team riding but success on these Bavarian roads will go to the strongest team, not the best rider necessarily.
“So is there a plan?” I asked.
“Not as such, there's only three of you.”
“And?”
“And you can't control ninety odd others, Gret and Tali will do what they can, I expect you to do the same if one of them is in position.”
“'Kay,” I allowed, “that it?”
“That's it,” he confirmed.
Guess I'm on my own then.
Maddy Bell © 19.08.2017
I looked around me, the field for the Junior women's race was impressively big – well I guess Germany is a fair size. There were all shapes and sizes although at just 1.6m the vast majority tower over me but that hasn’t stopped me in the past. Of course I recognised a few faces – well jerseys really, me being in Apollinaris strip might throw some a bit as i’m usually seen in other colours.
Bit different to my last Nationals at Eastway, for a start, under 14’s race on a closed circuit, both sexes in the same event. Today i’m not just older and a girl but i’m even officially a National of a different country – weird eh?
“Reckon its gonna stay dry,” Tal opined from behind me.
“Yeah,” I agreed scanning the sky, it wasn’t a clear sky but the few bits of cloud were high and wispy.
“Forecast had some rain,” Gret put in.
“Hope not,” I allowed.
“Wish they’d get on with it,” Tal sighed.
“They have a timetable I guess.”
In fact, according to my computer we’re late starting, we had to wait another five minutes before the starters pistol sent us on our way.
With such a big field early positioning is important, a lot of nervous riders, unfamiliar roads – the chances of a race ending clash are quite high. Thank you but i’ve had enough offs already this season, if I can lessen that possibility I will. Clearly my tactic caught a lot out including the officials, I hit the go button as soon as the flag dropped.
It wasn’t intended as a serious attack – who’d go with best part of a hundred kilometres ahead of us? Clearly some of the field thought otherwise, Elise von Stuygen amongst them – maybe they race differently across the Pond? Whatever the thinking I suddenly found myself less than five kilometres into the race in an apparently serious move, the only plus being one of my biggest adversaries is here too.
I hadn’t intended to be in this position at all, I formulated a plan overnight and this has no part in it but here I am, I can’t just press the reset button.
“Didn’t work did it?” von Stuygen opined.
“Was?”
“Don’t come that one, I know you speak English.”
“Und Sie sprecken Deutsch,” I pointed out.
“I’m watching you,” she replied venomously in quite bad German.
“Do I care? like the nails?” I wiggled my hand at her.
“Urgh!”
Well okay maybe winding her up with my red, yellow and black painted nails wasn’t the grown up thing to do but it felt good as she moved away from me.
Looking around there were clearly three groups of riders in the break, real contenders, chancers and the ‘how did I get here’s’. eighteen of us, a look behind suggested we were best part of half a minute up already and we aren’t exactly organised. I wish Gret and Tal were up here but they’re not, i’m on my own with a lot of hostiles and a lot of kilometres to the chequered flag.
I didn’t get in the way of any organisation, nor did I do more than the minimum to advance things, I actually wanted a quick failure. Warning signs suggested we would soon be at the dirt road and our lead was sufficient to garner the neutral service. I guess I need to commit through the rough which means taking the lead like back at Roubaix earlier in the year.
Some careful riding had me well positioned by the time the tarmac gave out, von Stuygen on my tail surprise, surprise – well lets see how she copes with a bit of ‘cross. Dad suggested we run lower pressures than usual to lessen the puncture potential but it also takes out some of the vibration, i charged straight onto the dirt, keeping the same pace. There was some cursing in English, well American behind me, not very ladylike if you ask me, but the clattering suggested a reasonable number of others were with her on my tail.
Well I wasn’t trying to get away, just to stay out of trouble through the forest. I concentrated on my own line, the rest can take their chances. The puddles from Friday night are at least much reduced and for the most part it was a dry ride although a chunk of bar tape on one particularly loose corner suggested there had been an off in the ladies event ahead of us, it wasn’t Apollinaris cream so at least it wasn’t one of ours.
To be honest the group was less decimated by the rough than i’d expected, pretty much everyone emerged together, well as a bunch anyhow. I slacked off my effort and let some of my companions take over the lead, the main thing for me being getting through in one piece.
“Nice try pinky,” von Stuygen spat.
“I wasn’t trying anything.”
“Well its not going to work be-atch.”
There’s no need for that language.
“If you say so Auslander.”
Well she’s getting on my, well you know. She moved away again to be replaced by a lanky girl I kind of recognised.
“What’s her problem?”
“No idea.”
“Isolde by the way, everyone calls me Izzy though.”
“Gaby.”
“Oh we all know who you are Gaby Bond, most of us have crossed wheels with you at some time or other.”
“And you still talk to me?”
“Well you’re talking to me too and anyone who can pull off pink hair gets my vote.”
“The hair was an accident, what about von Stuygen?”
“The American? She has no friends here after last year.”
“Last year?”
“She only won after causing a pile up, she is not nice at all.”
“I’ll try not to do that then Iz.”
“Good, laters.”
“Laters,” I agreed.
We were best part of the way around the first lap before a small group of chasers joined the front of the race, amongst them both of my girls.
“Geez Gab, you coulda warned us,” Gret suggested before taking a tug at her bidon.
“I didn’t plan it.”
“Well whatever, it worked, there won’t be any more coming up.”
“Dang, I was so hoping for a sprint finish too.”
“Like we believe that,” Tali put in.
“I can sprint.”
“But not today, I’ve seen that look before.”
“Someone’s irked her,” Gret offered.
“Let me guess, the American,” Tal surmised.
“Izzy says no one likes her.”
“Izzy?”
“Over in the yellow and green,” I supplied.
“Well she did pull that stunt last year in Regensburg,” Gret confirmed.
“So boss lady, what’s the plan?”
With the additional riders we started lap two twenty five strong and with a lead of over three minutes. Whilst I felt quite confident I could take a sprint, with Miss Gob a lot out for me it probably wouldn’t be a good idea. No, i’ll stick to plan A, show Fraulein Mouthy how its really done and if i’m gonna do it we need to start the action now, time for a word with Izzy.
“Oh I like it.”
“You think the others will play along?”
“Reckon so,” Iz agreed, “anything to stop that braggart winning again.”
“Great, as we go into the rough then.”
Its a simple enough idea, launch an attack that von Stuygen has to cover, wear her out then launch a counter attack. However we’re gonna do it with a twist, Gret and Tali will be the bait, i’ll be the counter attack, all we need for success is for the American based girl to take that bait. There was a bit more than that to it but essentially that's the plan.
I kept myself close to the enemy after that, made sure she knew I was there, just the edge of her view. Meanwhile T & G hid at the back recovering from their chase as best they could, I was actually quite proud of them, there was no hesitation on eithers part in working for me when they could’ve said ‘sod yer’. No, we’re a team through and through and I’m lucky enough to be the leader, I’ll admit that I’m not always exactly a team player but I mean to be, honest.
Iz caught my eye, I gave a small nod in acknowledgement. And then we were there. Tali sprinted forward with Gret on her wheel, von Stuygen gave me a panicked look.
“Well I’m not chasing my team mates,” I told her.
That earnt some more less than lady like expletives before she set off in pursuit – so far so good.
“What now?” Izzy queried as we followed the escape into the woodland.
“The girls’ll go flat out through the forest, she’ll have to follow, one or the other will drop back then we’ll steam roller through next time.”
“Sounds simple,” she said cocking an eye.
“Its a bike race, its never that simple.”
I have to admit that its a bit of a gamble but its not me up the road wasting energy.
Of course a couple of others gave chase too, you can’t get everyone on board, can’t say as I blame them and if anything it adds to the authenticity of the move. Those remaining seemed happy to work together in a loose rotation that kept the leaders mostly in sight, perhaps twenty seconds ahead. We safely negotiated the tracks, I thought I’d blown it when I bottomed my front rim on a rock but my luck held out.
We got a bit more organised once we returned to the tarmac, I took my turn whilst still reserving my energies. It was Gret who sat up and dropped back.
“How goes?”
“She’s pretty committed, nice touch with the others going up.”
“What about you?”
She shrugged, “as long as I can rest a bit.”
“Cool, we’ll wait to the end of the lap.”
And so we are set, the enemy is dangling ahead committed to a move any idiot could see is doomed.
“Sky’s looking a bit ominous,” Iz mentioned as we headed into the bell.
“It was forecast,” I stated passing on Gret’s weather prediction.
“The forest will be a nightmare if it rains.”
“Certainly make some of it interesting,” I agreed.
“I think some of the others are nervous of this working.”
“As long as a few come it’ll work.”
“What about your friend?” she nodded towards Gret.
“She’ll be with us,” I confirmed.
To be honest I was less confident than I appeared, at the moment we’ve got a one in four chance with Tal up the road. If it doesn’t pan out the odds could go out somewhat but if it does – well I’m not counting chickens just yet. I looked at my fellow riders, there were a few pretty strong riders here but its the chancers I’m more concerned with, they won’t be afraid to chase me when I do make my move.
A roll of thunder suddenly brought back memories of last year in Denmark and ‘that’ thunderstorm. This could be worse if the tracks get wet but its not the end of the world, after all its the same for everyone. I dug into my pocket for an energy bar, take out the forest section and its quite an easy circuit, just one sort of decent climb between the tracks and the finish, if I don’t get gobby on one I’ll have her on the other.
There was a lot of cheering when we went through the line, amateur timekeepers offering anything from fifteen to forty seconds gap. Its probably between those two extremes, well I guess its time. I went through with a bit more determination this time, Gret followed and whilst not by particular design, shed a couple more of our number as the pace climbed.
Girls racing isn’t exactly known for its high speed but we picked up to something close to forty on the downhills – where’s Josh when you need him? There was no way that we’d keep that pace for long, oh I know I TT at higher speeds on my own but its not the same. We’d closed most of the gap by the time we approached the forest road, unfortunately the first drops of rain descended too, bum!
Well this is it, I dropped a gear and loosened my grip on the bars as we left the tarmac, powering ahead onto the rough surface. The trees kept some of the wet at bay but not enough to prevent the surface becoming somewhat slimy, a spray of wet flying off my front wheel. I certainly wasn’t alone, but at least I had a chance of seeing where I was going.
The leading group fought on ahead but the gap was reducing quickly, I’ll be on them on the next rise.
“WHOA!” I yelled out as I was confronted by a tangle of bodies and bikes.
I grabbed the brakes and added my squeals to those around me, however wet and muddy rims don’t give great braking and I found myself sliding towards the pileup with nowhere to go. Several girls went down adding to the carnage although I managed to stay on my feet.
“What happened?”
“That cow did it again,” someone in the pile angrily replied.
“Who?” I asked.
“The American, jammed her brakes on as we came over the top.”
“Right! No more games,” I announced quickly dismounting and stepping over the bodies, bike over my head.
“Go get her Gab,” Tal called out as I remounted.
“Don’t worry, she’s toast.”
Some things are acceptable to get an edge, I’ve used some myself in the past, but intentionally causing a crash is not one of them. I had to have a couple of goes to get my left pedal to re engage after my short but muddy walk but then I took off in pursuit of my quarry. The carnage she caused had given her a decent lead again, I spotted her on an open stretch and guessed at about a minute.
If it had been dry I would really have gone for it but the wet tempered my reaction through the rest of the woodland. I lost track of where I was until I popped out onto the real tarmac road again, the surface was treacherous with standing water but that I can cope with. In fact I purposely rode through one long stand to clean the muck off my wheels and brakes – hell i’m already wet and muddy and semi working brakes would be good.
Well nothing for it, I got into a low tuck and hit boost. I could see my quarry’s position by the flashing lights, she wasn’t riding that quickly, no doubt smug with her delaying action. On the other hand I’ve not got an escort of any sort, I’m pretty much invisible to someone looking back down the road.
I kept to the edge of the road, out of sight and on the climb I closed the gap quickly but rather than immediately join her I slowed to catch my breath first. It was actually the reaction of the officials that alerted her to my presence, my hand was effectively tipped for me.
“You!” she spat.
‘Oh yes, meet your nemesis von Stuygen, remember the name, Bond, Gaby Bond!’
Maddy Bell © 28.09.2017
I grinned back at her through the grime caking my face, “hi.”
“How’d you..?”
“I’m one of the Ahr Angels and being the Angel Gabrielle i’ve got wings, see?” I tipped my head to one side.
The silly moo only went for it! I only needed a split second and I got at least two in which I hit the afterburner. Out of the saddle, quick flick of the shift lever and while Danger Girl was still working things out I had the thick end of twenty metres on her. Its just as well its not been the hardest of races, i’ve got plenty in the tank still, with a bit of luck von Stuygen will be feeling the effects of a lap out front, she was certainly looking tired.
Of course i’m commited now, I can’t show any weakness that may give her hope so not even a quick glance behind. I quickly shook some wet off my glasses – not much better to be honest but as if by magic the rain stopped or rather I rode out of it onto dry tarmac, now we’re cooking! Into a tuck again I returned to time trial mode, the game is well and truly on.
I wanged a pothole that I failed to spot due to the crap on my shades, I do not want to do that again. So of course, off my face I then couldn’t find my pocket, calm down girl, right, decision made I flipped them towards the verge – maybe I can get them later but seeing clearly now is more important. A mouthful from my bottle and it was back to full concentration as the road jostled its way through the rolling countryside towards the Steingaden finish line.
I’d half expected von Stuygen to come back at me but instead it was a service motorbike that joined me with a little under five kilometres to go. A wipe at the computer suggested I was holding a steady thirty five to forty K, feeling quite fresh I kept the effort going. Of course it then seemed an age until I spotted the kilo arch at which point I risked a glance behind – nothing worse than getting caught on the line.
With no sign of even von Stuygen in view behind me I eased off some, well a klick or two. The final five hundred were barriered even if there weren’t many spectators that far out, my escort pulled off leaving me a lone figure on the wide straight. Another check behind, nothing, I sat up and straightened my slightly wet and grimy jersey, well the sponsors do pay for me to race so this is my return to them.
The crowd were being denied a sprinting spectacle, instead I grinned and waved at the cheering masses giving the sponsors plenty to smile about. With no need for speed the MC was milking things no end, a change in his tone suggested other riders were now in sight, I guess i’d best cement things and cross the line. So of course I managed to disengage a foot which threw me forward over the bars – somehow I kept control by twisting the other foot free.
“When did you practice that?” Dad enquired as he grabbed me just in time to prevent an embarrasing off.
“I didn’t,” I admitted.
“Whatever, well done kiddo, or should I say champ.”
“Your highness will do,” I suggested before I was engulfed by officials and the press.
I missed seeing the gallop of course, I was sat in a cubicle in the testing portacabin. Did von Stuygen get in before them? Guess i’ll find out soon enough, after i’ve been subjected to the joys of success and they say cycling isn’t glamorous.
‘...and our 2006 under eighteen champion of Germany, Superwoman herself, Gabrielle Bond!’
At least i’d managed a quick face wash, footwear swap and change to a dry – and clean jersey before todays presentation, i’m not sure what but whilst my victory wasn’t in doubt the judges took some time to confirm the lower placings. Anyhow, I stepped up onto the podium, exchanging quick hugs with Izzy who got third and amazingly Tal who just pipped her some fifty seconds after I crossed the line. For a second time I received a jersey, a gong, bouquet and mumbled along as Deutcheland über Alles was played.
“So what was all the delay about,” Angela asked as we waited for the senior race to conclude.
“Dunno,” I admitted, “Dad?”
“Nothing to do with the finish really, there were complaints about dangerous riding and they disqualified that von Stuygen girl.”
“Good!”
“That’s not very nice Gaby,” Angela opined.
“Well neither is she, I mean, she caused that crash in the forest.”
“Hmm,” Dad noted.
There was a more urgent note to the MC’s tone and we looked expectantly down the straight. Unlike my race, the seniors were having a full blown gallop for the titles on offer, maybe fifty women heading towards us. Of course picking any one individual out isn’t exactly easy, I settled for just banging the barriers and yelling ‘Apollinaris!’, Ang was shouting for Ron of course but with Tina and the others in the pot I decided to be less specific. In a whoosh they were past our spot and soon enough after it was all over.
Apollinaris scored more podiums, well another two actually. In the senior race Anja had to wait for the photo to claim her bronze gong but it was clearer in the U23’s, Ron was the only one to make the finale. Not a bad haul for the team, three titles, a second and a third here in Germany, Erica and Mand taking their respective TT titles too. George was cock a hoop!
“See you about some time Supergirl,” Izzy grinned.
I’m never gonna live that down am I? Apparently it looked like I was intentionally doing a Superman impression when I crossed the line rather than trying not to fall off.
“I look forward to it.”
“Gab! Come on, plane to catch,” Dad prompted from our hired transport.
“Later!”
“Tschuss!”
I tripped over to the bus where George was waiting by the open door.
“Safe flight everyone, i’ll see you all Tuesday,” he slammed the door closed and Dad edged us on our way.
“Tuesday?” I asked no one in particular.
“The party,” Tal supplied.
“Party?”
“George is organising a victory do,” Dad called back.
“That means i’ll have to get my dress cleaned,” I groaned.
“Sugar, me too,” Gret agreed.
“We’ll get that sorted, i’m sure Ron and the others will be just the same,” Angela suggested.
“What about Mand, will they be back? She shouldn’t miss it, she’s got a gong too,” I noted.
“Tll be back tomorrow kidda, don’t worry, she won’t miss out,” Dad advised.
Instead of retracing to Hohe Peißenberg and out to the autobahn we went straight up the B17 down the Lech valley to join the motorway at Landsberg. Its a fast road and with the autobahn going almost right into the airport we were unloading our transport in little more than an hour and a half.
“Glad we’ve only got hand luggage this direction,” Gret mentioned as we started the trek through the airport complex.
“Yeah, at least your rents could get off for their flight.”
“It would’ve been cutting things a bit close if they’d stayed,” she agreed.
“Talking of close, we gonna have time to eat Dad, i’m starved.”
“Should do, lets get checked in first eh?”
“Yeah,” I sighed almost having to run to keep up.
“Come,” the security woman ordered.
They didn’t like my shades being on my head at Köln on the way out, no issue with them this time and everything else is in my bags.
“Beeeep!”
What?
“Please,” she motioned me to the side. “wired BH?”
“Er no.”
She quickly waved her wand thingy around me and of course it made a confirming beep.
“You have something beneath?”
“Just my...oh bum,” my hand shot to my breast where I touched my gongs which I then pulled out of my top, “er sorry, I forgot I had these.”
“Please,” she requested my treasure which was whisked away to be scanned.
Well I thought it was the safest place to keep two gold medals, close to my heart, I shall probably sleep with them tonight.
“That yours?” Tali queried as a Handy trilled from a bag.
“Oh, er yeah.” I fished my telecommunication device from its hiding place and hit receive.
“Hello?”
“Gab?”
“It is my phone dumbo.”
“Er yeah, so um, how’d it go today?”
“You on your phone?”
“Yeah,” he replied cautiously.
“Hang on,” I instructed my boyfriend.
These new phones are cool, I quickly selected the camera, adjusted my gongs and took a selfie. In seconds the image was winging its way across the ether.
“You there? sent you a pic.”
There was a pause from the Ahrtal end, “two? how’d you manage that?”
“Ones from the other day dummy and I won today, Tal got second too.”
“Er cool, well done, you want me to tell the others?”
“If you want, we’re just waiting for our flight, well we’re in a restaurant at the minute our flight’s in about fifty minutes.”
“I’ll let Con know, so what time are you home?”
“Not till late, we’re dropping Angela and the others at Neuwied first.”
“Right, see you at the kiosk tomorrow then?”
“Maybe,” I replied coyly.
“Er love you, tschuss.”
“Tschussie.”
Did he just say what I thought he did?
“I guess that was Max,” Gret suggested.
“Um yeah,” I confirmed restowing my phone.
“You eating those Pommes,” Tal queried nicking one.
“Hey, keep your mitts off!”
“Wait here, i’ll bring the bus,” Dad instructed, “no point in us all getting wet.”
“We’ll sit inside Dave,” Angela told him.
“Okay, won’t be long.”
Yeah we’ve landed into the middle of a thunderstorm that’s currently battering the Rheinland.
“Glad it wasn’t like this for the race,” Gret opined.
“It was wet enough,” Tal observed.
“I hope that stuff washes out,” Angela added.
“Someone’ll be getting new strip anyhow,” Tali noted jogging my arm, “not more kissy kissy stuff?”
“Hmm, nah its from Con,” I told them waving my phone about, “she sent it while we were in the air, you heard from Josh?”
“Not looked,” she admitted.
Hmm, I wonder how they all got on today? I’d put money on Mark if it came to sprint in the lads race, dunno about the girls, Mand’s been polishing her sprint the last few weeks but I suppose others have too. I guess I should drop her a message, and Mum, wonder how she got on?
“Come on Gaby, your dads here,” Angela advised.
“Er right,” I pressed send and stuck the Handy in a pocket before grabbing my stuff and following the others out into the dank evening.
“Spoke to your Mum spud,” Dad told me as I climbed in.
“How she do?”
“Fifth, she said she’ll ring you in the morning.”
“Fifth?”
“She’ll tell you when she rings, she sent her congratulations by the way.”
“Um right.”
Fifth, but Mum always podiums, well maybe not always but she’s got a fair collection of National gongs as well as the worlds ones. But no new gongs for Mum this time, just as well I got a pair then!
“See you Tuesday Gab,” Gret mentioned as she clambered out at the BC house which Dad was already unlocking.
“Hmm, yeah,” I agreed with a stretch having dropped off on the drive down.
“Night Gab!”
“Er night!” I returned before clambering into the front over the seats – you don’t think i’m going out in that do you?
Dad sprinted back and clambered into his seat.
“Soon be home kiddo.”
“Yeah,” I replied automatically.
“You working tomorrow?”
“Said I would be, why?”
“Just so I know to get you up.”
“I do have an alarm clock you know.”
“Which you usually ignore.”
“I’m not a morning person.”
“Nor am I but needs must, I need to talk to Sintani about some new kit for certain riders.”
“Er right,” I started to colour up.
“Lets get you home to bed eh, I’m looking forward to mine too, I hardly slept in Bavaria what with one thing and another.”
And so we started the final leg of our journey back to Dernau after quite an eventful day. I stared out at the wet still hammering the German countryside, it hit me then, German – not only have I crossed the gender divide but it seems i’ve now crossed the national divide too. Yes i’m double National champion but German not British which I guess means that I won’t be riding for BC anymore, how did that happen?
Maddy Bell © 30.09.2017
“Dad?”
“Yes kiddo,” Pater replied around his toast.
I did get up with my alarm so there!
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Danger, danger,” he mocked.
“Da-ad,” I moaned.
“Go on.”
“Well you know I won the German championships?”
“Yes,” he allowed.
“So like where does that leave me with BC?”
“i was wondering when you’d ask that.”
“And?” I pressed.
“Its complicated kiddo and it affects Amanda and the others at the house too.”
“It does?”
“’fraid so, look, they’ll be back from Kent this afternoon, and you need to get to work, can you wait until later and i’ll explain things to both of you together?”
“i guess so,” I agreed.
“Finish your breakfast and i’ll run you up.”
Well I reckon I do deserve a day off the bike after this weekend’s exploits – and another Brötchen with Nutella®!
“Heya Gabs or should I say Wonder Woman.”
“Morning Nen, Boss’ll do for now.”
“Yes Boss, so lets see then?”
Well i’d be fibbing if I said I didn’t enjoy showing off my gongs to all and sundry so of course i’d brought them up to the kiosk today.
“Hang on, lets get set up first eh?”
The mundane tasks like checking the coffee machine certainly bring any flighty thoughts to earth with a clang. At least yesterdays rain has passed on so Nena put the tables and chairs out while I prepared the hotplate and stowed todays supply of baked goods and got the first batch of Würst going. One day your a superstar, the next a short order (very short!) cook, how does that work?
“You never!”
“I did.”
“And she went for it?”
“Yup,” I confirmed, “she actually looked for my wings.”
“You are so bad Gaby Bond!”
“Welcome to the dark side,” I supplied in my best deep voice that was, lets be honest not exactly deep or worrying.
“Gab’s!”
“Anyhow I just went for it then, it even stopped raining.”
“Sometimes you are just so jammy girl.”
“Strawberry?”
She ignored me instead changing the subject, “Max coming today?”
“Expect so, why?”
“Just looking at the time, he’s usually here about now that’s all.”
I looked at the clock myself, hell, where did the morning go to?
“Pie or schnitzel?”
“What was the pie again?”
To be honest I wasn’t sure about this weeks variety, I’m all for a bit of experimentation but I think Tomas may have overstepped the bounds of decency this time.
“Weisswürst with redcurrant jelly.”
“Yeuch! That needs a strong stomach, play safe girl, can’t go wrong with Wiener Schnitzel.”
“Think you’re right, I don’t know what Herr Thesing was thinking.”
“Ta da!” Max announced from somewhere behind the huge floral display now filling the kiosks serving window.
My assistant was reduced to a fit of giggles, fat lot of help she is.
“Max, what’s this in aid of? And get them out of the window.”
“Say it with flowers?” he suggested removing them to one of the garden tables.
“Say what exactly, that Izzy in the florists saw you waving fifty euros?”
“Don’t be so mean Gab, they’re very erm,” Nena hesitated as she fished for a description, “colourful?”
They were certainly colourful, a bit overboard but yep, a veritable rainbow of blooms. I’ve no idea what most of them are called, I’m not a botanist after all but I suppose they do look quite jolly.
“Mum said girls like flowers.”
Bit of a generalisation Gloria, I’m not the biggest fan to be honest, but I can hardly nay say the Baroness.
“Er we do but within reason, a few would’ve been enough, take these and go sit and i’ll bring your food over,” I handed him a couple of bottles of fizzy beverage.
“Good job you aren’t on the Fahrrad today,” Nen chuckled as I plated up the schnitzel.
“Er Gab.”
“Hmm,” I acknowledged, unwilling to break my suction on Max’s face.
“There’s an RTL1 van just pulled up over the road.”
“’ats ‘ice.”
“Um Gertie Schmidt’s just got out.”
“Don’t be daft,” I opined after finally breaking from my boyfriends face.
“I’m not, its her alright and they’re heading this way.”
“Shitza!” in a panic I stood up and hurried towards the kiosk.
“There she is,” Gertie’s voice drifted over, “Gaby!”
Bum, “Gertie, come for Pommes?”
Well of course it wasn’t my ability to cook perfect Frites that had drawn everyone's favourite TV reporter back to Altenahr, somehow she’d got wind of my weekend exploits down in Bavaria.
She did start her piece munching a plate of deep fried potato with a backdrop of Connie’s Cabin though.
“Hello once again from the wonderful town of Altenahr. If you remember, at the start of the summer we were here for the opening of an enterprise run by a couple of young entrepreneurs living here in the Ahrtal. I’m not here today to check on the continued quality of the Pommes, although they are very good,” she joked before putting the plate down and slowly walking over to where I was waiting. “no, its not the food that brings me here today although it is one of those astute young business women.”
I tried to contain my blush with little success.
“Hello again Gabrielle.”
“Gaby please, welcome back Gertie,” I replied trying not to smile too forcibly.
Gertie addressed the camera again, “you might recall that young Gabrielle is something of a sports woman of the bicycle racing ilk, so Gaby, you were in Bavaria last weekend?”
The whole idea was that it came over as a sort of casual chat in her usual style which meant, well not a script as such but some collusion over the conversation.
“It was the German championships at Steingaden Gertie, its a long way but the highlight of the domestic season.”
“And a little bird tells me you returned with some new medals,” she hinted.
“A couple,” I agreed.
“They both look to be gold to me, what’s this one for?” she lifted a gong from where it lay on my chest.
“The time trial on Friday.”
“Gaby is of course the reigning Weltmeisterin at this discipline, it was an easy victory then?”
“Far from it Gertie, I was behind at all the time checks but I guess my experience paid off, I finished with 34 seconds in hand over the local favourite.”
“Well done! So what is the other medal for?”
“The road race Gertie.”
“Like we see at the Tour de France?”
“Yes but without all the cars and spectators,” I supplied.
“And you won again?”
“Well it was a difficult race, part of the circuit was on forest roads and there was heavy rain during the race.”
“So you had to work hard?”
“Yes, there was a crash on the last lap, I managed to avoid it but I took my chance then and claimed this,” I waggled the gong while giving a cheesy grin – at least I’d had time to put on some makeup, TV can be so unflattering.
“Don’t you just love her? Talented and so modest too, what do you think young man?”
Max had been spectating along with a couple of other regulars and somehow Gertie homed in on him.
“Erm.”
“What do you think about having such a famous person serving you dinner?” Gert pressed.
He was like a rabbit in headlights, “er well I hadn’t really thought about it, I mean we went to school together, we do stuff with our friends.”
Don’t say anymore Max, that's already too much!
“So she really is a champion of the people?”
“I guess so,” he agreed.
“Well,” she turned to directly address the camera again, “there we are, the Palatinate’s newest champion, a young lady I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of in the future and a dab hand at cooking Pommes too. A-and cut.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding, “you guys want coffee?”
Gertie grinned back, “please, I doubt we’ll get much chance before we go to air.”
“This is going out tonight?”
“Strike while the iron’s hot and to tell you the truth its been a quiet weekend, everyone’s on holiday and if I have to do another Heimat broadcast...”
“I guess they can be a bit repetitive,” I allowed.
“That was a bit unexpected,” Max mentioned twenty minutes later after the RTL team finally took their leave.
“Embarrasing,” I suggested.
“Not much, she caught me on the hop there.”
“I did wonder what you were going to say.”
“So did I,” he chuckled.
“Well I think your TV debut deserves a reward.”
“It does?”
“Yeah, come here handsome!”
“Put him down Gab!” Nena called over as I gave his lips a thorough seeing to, she’s only jealous.
“So how many times will this be,” Nen queried as we grabbed our own lunches sometime later.
“Eh?”
“On the telly,” she stipulated.
“Er,” I had to do a mental head scratch, the Worlds, operning the running thing, the SPOTY thing, our grand opening here and today, “five?”
“Seems more, they’ll be giving you your own slot soon.”
“Don’t be daft!”
“You could do a cookery programme or travel or something, you’d be famous in no time.”
“I don’t really want to be famous.”
“She says!”
Maddy Bell © 05.10.2017
“Wasn’t sure you’d be here tonight,” Han proffered as we tidied up after cheer.
“Why not?”
“Didn’t you have some big race at the weekend?”
“Yeah?” I allowed, “the National championships, so?”
“So how did you get on? Did you win?”
“Might of,” I teased.
“You can be so frustrating Gaby Bond.”
“Wonder Woman won both her races,” Pia put in from behind me.
“P, your no fun,” I complained.
“Well you were gonna drag it out another five minutes,” she pointed out.
“You won two races?” Hannah queried for clarification.
“Uh huh.”
“Good job too, I won twenty euros in the pool,” Pia chuckled.
“You bet on me?”
“Well it’s hardly a gamble is it?”
“What if I hadn’t won?”
“Bridg would be twenty up,” she shrugged.
Han chuckled as I spluttered.
“So you wanting a lift or what Bond? Dad’s here,” my ‘friend’ enquired.
“Yeah,” I sighed, “see you Friday Han.”
“Nite girls.
I can’t believe they had a book on me, or that Bridg has so little confidence in me.
With the Sebenschuh taxi taking me down the valley it was gonna be a pizza free night and to be honest what I actually fancied was a mucky curry like we used to get in Warsop. You know the sort of thing, chunks of meat and onion in a glutinous green sauce, usually with egg fried rice. I’m sure its not good for you but sometimes, well I just fancy something bad – well badder than a plate of pommes.
“That you Gab?” Dad called out.
“Yeah,” I agreed as I kicked off my trainers in the hall, “ Mand back?”
“I’m here Champ,” de Vreen’s voice advised.
“Cool Champ,” I shot back as I entered the lounge, still pulling off my socks.
Mand jumped up and we shared a hug.
“Loose the socks Gab,” she suggested wafting the air in front of her face.
“Oh right, soz,” I launched the offending foot coverings back into the hallway out of smell reach.
“i hope you’re going to pick those up,” Dad intoned.
“Yeah,” I replied, “so what time did you get back Mand?”
“God, what a nightmare Gabs, flippin’ French fishermen blockaded Calais so we diverted to Dunkirk so then we had to queue to get unloaded which took forever and then...”
“There’s more?”
“Oh yeah, total nightmare, there was a big smash on the Brussels Ring so Caroline turned off to go round and we got lost in Brussels, I’m sure we went past the same church three times. So anyway we ended up on the wrong road, by the time we realised we were well on the way to Luxembourg so we ended up coming along the Mosel.”
“Best get Caro a satnav thing for Chrimbo eh Dad?” I suggested.
“Well the main thing is that you did get back even if it was late,” Dad noted.
“We were beginning to wonder at one point,” Mand admitted.
After we got settled with our hot chocolate it was time for the ‘chat’.
“So what’s going on Mr B, it was like them and us in Kent.”
“Typical BC,” Dad sighed, “both feet and all in one box.”
“Dad?”
“Okay girls, BC have, for reasons I’m not au fait with, decided to change the whole junior programme, they’re dumping the road programme altogether in favour of the track.”
“They can’t do that!” I cried out.
“Thats not fair,” Mand added.
Dad shrugged, “its been on the cards since the spring, we’ve been arguing with the board all year.”
“So its a done deal?” I asked.
“Pretty much,” he admitted.
“So what about us and the guys at Neuwied?” Mand was remarkably calm.
“Chris told me that they’d be offering everyone the chance to join this ‘podium’ scheme.”
“No one’s said anything to me,” Mand noted.
“Or me,” I added.
Dad’s silence at that point said a lot.
“They’re dumping me aren’t they? I’ll have to go home,” Mand suggested, a tear forming in her eye.
“Chris doesn’t think you’d fit into what they are setting up at Manchester Mand, his words not mine.”
“So I just get dumped?”
“Not if I can help it, BC might be changing focus but Apollinaris isn’t,” Dad told her.
“What about me? They can’t just drop their best riders can they?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Dad admitted, ”Gab there was a reason you raced in Bavaria this weekend, the German federation are keen to support you but on the condition you race for them.”
“I know we live here and stuff but I am English Dad,” I pointed out.
“You race on a German licence kiddo which is how we sorted this weekend.”
“You knew about this at New Years?” I accused.
“There were rumours,” he admitted, “so I covered all the bases.”
“But i’ve raced for BC this year, so how can I ride for Germany?”
“You change passports,” Mand proposed.
“Dad?”
“Mand’s right kiddo, we get you a ‘passport of convenience’, the FDF will sort most of that out.”
“So i’ll be German?”
“Gab, I hate to tell you,” Mand started, “if I didn’t know I’d think you were anyway.”
Dad just gave me a look.
“You could’ve at least asked me.”
“And you fancy moving to Manchester and spend all day, everyday going round the velodrome?”
“Well no,” I allowed.
“So your parents made the right decision?” he prompted.
“Probably, it would still have been nice to be in the conversation, I am sixteen you know.”
“We thought you had enough on your plate already.”
“So what happens now Mr B?” Mand asked.
“Your funding is secure lass so don’t go worrying yourself but apart from Gaby’s paperwork not a lot. The house is funded through to September so we should be on for Spain still. As far as the Worlds are concerned, Chris is funding a road team so I think you’ll be going Mand, after that Caroline and possibly Darren will be looking for work.”
“Bum,” I sighed.
“But Caroline’s a really good coach,” Mand opined.
“A coach without riders i’m afraid,” Dad stated.
“What are the others doing, Mark and Jamie and that?”
“I don’t know kiddo, I honestly don’t know.”
“Its not fair, things were starting to get good, we even won at the Worlds last year,” Mand sniffed.
“Look, there’s nothing we can do to change things, we’ll find a way through this.”
“What do you think’s gonna happen?” Mand asked from beside me.
We’d reconvened in her room after bidding Dad good night and changing into our PJ’s.
“Dunno, Dad must be gutted too, he’s put a lot of effort into the BC juniors.”
“But he’ll still have his job at Appolinaris?”
“I guess,” I agreed.
“Who do you think’ll go to Manchester?”
“Dunno, I guess if they want to ride for Team GB they’ll all have to.”
“Where’s that leave me, I won’t be on the squad or anything.”
“Guess you’ll just have to get some results they can’t ignore.”
“its alright for you, your Dad’s got you all sorted, my rents couldn’t care a monkey.”
What could I say? Yeah I’m all sorted by doing a Zola but Mand, well she hasn’t got that option, she’s become the victim of politics within BC.
“Gab?”
“Hmm?”
“is it all worth it? You know, racing and stuff?”
“Dunno, I always dreamt of riding the Tour, you know, all the crowds, the famous climbs, finishing on the Champs but I guess that's not gonna happen now.”
“But you’re still racing.”
“I guess I realised that it wasn’t all about that one race, I could still be a success even if I am a girl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a girl.” Mand pointed out.
“I know, but this time last year, well I wanted to be a boy, to have the Tour and stuff as possibilities. Anyhow, I’m still ticking the boxes, did I tell you Gertie Schmidt came and did a piece at the kiosk again?”
“No, when was this?”
“Today – bum missed it, she said it was going out tonight.”
“You’re on that programme nearly as much as she is.”
“Am not,” I countered, “what about you, why do you race?”
She thought a minute or so before answering, “it started out as something to get me out of the house I guess but getting on the squad, doing those races, well I realised it might be a career if I got good enough. Lets face it, I’ll be lucky to scrape C’s in my GCSE’s unlike someone I know so my options are somewhat limited that way, I’d probably end up in a shop or an office doing some drudgy job.”
“Someone has to do them.”
“Yeah but not yours truly, this is my chance to do something with my life, if they asked me I’d jump at Manchester.”
“You would?”
“Its not Croydon,” she stated.
“Its not Dernau either, its a pisser but I don’t think I could stick it.”
“But you were really good when we were there last year.”
“It was a bit of fun Mand, can you imagine doing that every day? It wouldn’t be like last year, I’d be bored to tears in no time – and it always rains in Manchester.”
“True,” my bedmate agreed, “I know your Dad said my funding was sorted for this year but what then?”
“Get a rich boyfriend?”
“You’ve got that market cornered too bitch.”
“He isn’t that rich.”
“Richer than me,” she sighed.
I turned over and pulled her into a hug, “it’ll work out Mand, we’ll make it.”
“I hope so Gab, I don’t think I could bear going back to mums.”
Maddy Bell © 07.10.2017
“And don’t forget you need to get straight back this afternoon to get ready,” Mum called after me as I headed to the garage.
“Yes Mum,” I sighed pausing for what would inevitably follow.
“What are you proposing to wear?”
“My white bikini?”
“Gabrielle Bond!”
Ot oh, full name, not good, “team frock?”
“Really? Its a private do, didn’t think you’d want to be in that.”
“I thought we had to?” a sudden realisation hit me, “i don’t think I could wear it anyway.”
“Oh?” Mum queried poking her head over the bannister to see me.
“I left it with Angela Sunday with all the other kit, she was gonna get it cleaned.”
“She’s not your servant.”
“I know but she offered and I was sort of preoccupied.”
“So I take it you haven’t got anything out?”
“No Mum,” I sighed, “look i’m gonna be late for work.”
“Hmm, call me before lunch and let me know what you’ve decided so I’ve got time to iron.”
“Everythings ready to go in my wardrobe.”
“I’ve seen your ready young lady, clean maybe but looking like a dish rag, ring.”
“Yes Mum,” I sighed in defeat, “see you later.”
“What’re you looking like a wet Sunday about?” Nen asked as I stared out across the kiosk’s garden.
“Bike stuff.”
“Which one to ride?”
“Nah, its complicated and the team’s having a party tonight and I need to decide on a dress.”
“Lucky you’ve got a choice.”
“It would be simpler if I didn’t,” I lamented.
“So is it like formal or a bitchin’ disco?”
“Eh?”
“You know, long frocks or disco diva?”
“Somewhere between?” I suggested.
“Well that gets rid of half your wardrobe then.”
“I guess.”
“So what’s everyone else wearing?”
I scrambled through my memories of previous Apollinaris do’s, to be honest I usually feel overdressed, “sort of girls night crossed with smart dinner?”
“Gott, you are useless Gabs.”
“Cheers friend.”
“How about that short black one with the lace,” she suggested.
I had to think, black with lace?
“Really Gab, you wore it for Steffi’s birthday?”
“That black dress,” I allowed, still none the wiser, “I guess it’d be okay, i’ll ring Mum and tell her, it probably wants pressing.”
“Must be nice having staff,” she deadpanned.
“She’s not, its just...”
Nen cracked up, “got you!”
“Mum?”
“Gaby.”
“Dress for tonight?”
“I thought I was gonna have to ring you.”
“We’ve been busy – ish,” I hedged.
“So you telling me or have I got to use ESP?”
“ESP? Oh right um yeah, i’ll wear that black dress, with the lace?”
“I’ll find it, you have got hose and undies I presume?”
“Course,” somewhere, I didn’t vocalise.
“Right, i’ll find the dress out and don’t go too far, we have to leave by seven.”
“Yes Mum,” I sighed, well as I’m on my own I wasn’t planning on a long ride anyhow.
“See you later then kiddo.”
“Yeah, tschussie.”
“I looked such an idiot,” Max lamented between chunks of Currywürst, todays lunch offering.
“Right,” I noted, “wonder if anyone recorded it?”
“You asked Con?” Max suggested around a fistful of Pommes.
“Why would she tape it?”
“Trust me, just ask her.”
“I will when I see her, I thought she’d come up today.”
“Probably sorting her Briefmark collection,” he chuckled.
“She doesn’t have one.”
“How’d you know?” he shot back.
“Well i’d just know and anyhow girls don’t collect stamps.”
“They don’t collect mini autos either,” he countered.
“A, er, yeah, well.”
“So maybe Con does collect stamps?”
I had to concede his point, “I guess she might.”
“So we meeting later?”
“I can’t, we’ve got some daft team dinner thing, you know to celebrate everyone's medals from the weekend?”
“Guess it’ll wait,” he sighed, “where you eating?”
“No idea, I just have to be ready, front and centre at seven.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“Working at the Stube.”
“i could walk you home?”
“With Con and Mand?”
He shrugged and shovelled more fried potato into his maw, “they can kiss if they want.”
“Max!” I swatted at his head.
“What?” he enquired deflecting my hand with his sticky fork.
I’m sure he was just joshing or does he know that Mand sort of swings towards the fairer sex? I’m sure Con doesn’t, no course not, I’d know, she is my BF after all.
“Have a good party Gab.”
“I’ll try,” I called back as I pushed off towards Ahrbrück under leaden skies – I could do without a drenching this afternoon.
It didn’t take long to get into a rhythm and to be lost in my thoughts. Riding seems to do that, polarise the stuff going on in your head that is, you can’t stay angry or upset for long once you get riding. Oh I know it doesn’t actually solve any issues as such but you can usually get your head straight, see things a bit clearer.
So of course my mind drifted to the backroom dealing and subterfuge regarding my cycling career by Dad caused by BC’s change in priorities. I suppose I can sort of see their end, out on the road there are so many variables to affect the result – lets face it, at best we are a second tier road nation, Britain that is, even Ireland has won the Tour, we’ve never even podiumed and don’t look likely to in a hurry. I guess we’ve got a bit more success in the bank on the boards, certainly there’s been more Worlds medals and stuff like Chris Boardman and that Obree chap with the Hour record.
Yeah I get that but to just dump the road programme, well its definitely a pisser and a kick in the, well you know, its not fair! I was riding on autopilot, barely taking note of anything beyond the ten metres of tarmac ahead of me. Seemingly too quickly I was changing down the gears as the climb through Staffel started to bite.
Staffel, the Preiser farm, will Bern really come out here to live in a few weeks? it’ll be a bit weird if she does, its weird enough as it is with her being a mother, out of everyone back in Warsop i’d have put her last in the likely motherhood stakes. but I guess life has its own tricks to play on all of us, this malarkey with BC being just the latest thrown my way.
“Heya Gab!”
The voice broke through my wool gathering.
“Hi Mart, what’re you up to?” I asked pulling in beside him.
“Got conned into trimming the grass before the Heimatfest, as if I don’t have enough to do,” he moaned, “so you training?”
“Supposedly,” I allowed.
“Congrats on the titles by the way, saw you on Rhein Abend last night, you’ll have your own show soon.”
“Not you too!”
“Eh?”
“Nen said the same.”
“Well you have been on the box a few times,” Mart observed.
“I guess,” I agreed as I glanced at my comp, “that the time?”
Mart looked at his watch, “five past six.”
“Sugar! I need to shoot, some party thing tonight, we’re leaving at seven,” I clicked a foot back in, “laters.”
“Yeah, take care,” he called to my departing back.
Dang! I concentrated on my riding rather than my thoughts, with a bit of luck i’ll have a few minutes to shower and change. Of course if I’d have thought I would’ve retraced down to Ahrbrück and saved time but instead I pushed on over the top to Ramersbach. I was in full race mode now, the seconds seemingly flowing away like water down the plughole, after a close squeeze with a horsebox I did reign things back a bit.
“What time do you call this?” Mum enquired as I raced through the hall en route to my eyrie.
“Sorree!”
“Your dress is hanging on your mirror!”
“Thanks!
I scrabbled up the stairs, half undressing on my way. I glanced at my frock as I completed my striptease – that black dress, have to wear a half cup with that. Into the shower, well I am not going out all slimy with sweat, no way even if it is a bit of a wet and run.
“How you doing?” Mand enquired from the doorway.
“Can you get my new shoes out of the wardrobe, they’re on the shelf on the left.”
“Didn’t think you were going far?”
“I didn’t, up or down?”
“Up.”
“Right, I only went up round Staffel but my mind wasn’t on it and then I saw Marty and stopped for a chat.”
“These?” Mand enquired waving ‘those’ shoes, you know, from CentrO.
“Cheers.”
“See you down stairs.”
I found a suitable BH and matching knicks, after checking the pins I decided to go bare legged which sort of works better with the shoes. Dress, bag, Gran’s earrings and the matched necklace – I can do my makeup in the car. I grabbed my shoes and almost ran back down to the ground floor.
“Yes!” I announced dropping my shoes ready to put the stilts on.
“Er Gab,” Dad hinted.
“Um?”
“You might want to put your bra on under your dress?”
Mum and de Vreen were almost in hysterics, Dad was failing to keep a straight face too. Ooooooo!
Maddy Bell © 09.10.2017
After sorting out my wardrobe, well dressing malfunction we clambered into the A Klasse for the short drive down to Ahrweiler – I guess Dad isn’t drinking tonight. I really miss the crushed C Klasse, that was so much bigger than Mum’s car, even I struggle for leg room in the A and forget long frocks!
“You two okay?” Mum enquired.
“Glad we’re not going far.”
“Yeah,” Mand agreed.
“Wouldn’t you be better waiting until we get there to do that?” Dad suggested.
‘that’ is my makeup, no time at home remember.
“Duh!” I advised nearly poking myself in the eye as we rattled through a pot hole. I mean, turn up without makeup on?
It certainly isn’t far to Ahrweiler, it actually takes longer to navigate into the centre and to our destination, yup that good ole standby, Der Mühle.
“Who’s got the VeeDub?” I asked as Dad manouevered into the tiny parking area.
“The bus?” Mum asked.
Well I didn’t mean the Passat next to us did I?
“Looks like Carsten’s,” Dad opined.
“Bit retro,” Mand suggested as she untangled herself from the seatbelt.
Indeed it was, retro that is, a classic T1b split screen in sky blue and white and actually a rare crew bus.
“Pretty cool.”
“reminds me of our first camper Dave,” Mum mentioned.
“That was a T3,” Dad stated.
“A T3?” I queried, “i thought it was an LT.”
“You won’t remember it Gab, we sold it when your sister arrived on the scene, couldn’t swing a cat in it,” Mum told us.
“Toilet Mad?” I suggested.
“I don’t nee, oh right, yeah sure.”
At least with it being Der Mühle I know where the facilities are, nothing worse than going somewhere and having to ask coz you can’t see the signs – especially if you ‘need’ the loo. It didn’t take long, well ten minutes maybe, to make myself beautiful ably assisted by Mand tidying up my attempt at putting my hair up.
“You gonna dye it again?”
“My hair?”
“Your roots are well grown out.”
“Hadn’t thought about it, I’ve sort of got used to it.”
“It is sort of like your signature look now,” Mand suggested poking another grip into my mop, “there, that should hold it.”
“Have to go and see them at the salon I guess, if I ever get any free time.”
“Ready?”
“Yeah, best not keep everyone waiting.”
Everyone on the Apollinaris cycling ‘payroll’ was inside along with assorted family members, all of us sat along a single long table. Eva, Chris and another girl I didn’t recognise, had their hands full keeping us hydrated, yeah, tonight is a rare occasion mid season for the senior team to get in some alcohol, us juniors however were restricted to the house white or Radler, no fair. Dinner started with Blumenkohlsuppe followed by Schweinshaxe with Kartoffelklöße, we’d eaten our strudel and were onto the coffee before George stood and got our attention.
“Good evening everyone,”
“Evening Boss,” Erika called back.
“Danke fraulein Boonen. Frau Foch if you could please, well I don’t think any other team has been as successful as you ladies and gentlemen in the National events,” he paused.
Meanwhile Eva and co were distributing what looked exactly like flutes of champagne.
"Podiums in all countries we contested and a handful of champions too, so if you’ll join me in congratulating them, Erika, Belgian senior time trial gold, Amanda, junior time trial gold in England and here in Germany, Anja senior road bronze, Roni, under 23 time trial silver und road race gold, Thalia under 18 silver and finally, Gabrielle, gold in both junior disciplines.”
Each of us had stood as we were named, bit embarrasing but less than my bra earlier.
George waited for the assembled bodies to finish cheering before continuing, “so, please raise your glasses to all our new medal winners, all for one...”
“and one for all!” everyone chorused back – yeah I know its a bit corny but George likes it, engenders team spirit he says.
We all took the toast, I reckon I should have two glasses as I won two titles.
“Speech, speech!” Tina called out, a call enthusiastically taken up by some of the others.
“Over to you Gab,” Ron stated under her breath.
“Eh?”
“Don’t look at me champ,” Erica scoffed.
“Gabee, Gabee,” Tal started chanting, soon joined by Josh and Kat , traitors.
George tapped his glass to get some order back, “Gaby?”
Looks like its me then, the others returned to their seats leaving me stood above a sea of expectant faces. I looked around, Mum beaming with maternal pride, Kat grinning with mischief alongside Petra, Daz looking slightly bemused – I guess having to rely on Josh to translate stuff doesn’t help. What to say?
I took a deep breath, here goes.
“Firstly I’d like to thank George for putting this on tonight, and of course Eva and her girls for doing the catering,” I paused as everyone clapped politely to that. “I’ve been lucky enough to have won gongs not just on a national level but on the world stage too but whilst that's nice this weekends results mean at least as much to me and I hope everyone else here. All of our success is down to team work, the specialist training Dad and George put us all through, the tireless work by our team mates in the actual races with no guarantees of success or personal reward, thanks Tal, Gret.
Our squad has a rallying call, all for one, one for all and this weekend everyone has worked and ridden to that end. So on behalf of all us medal winners I’d like to thank you all, managers, soigneurs, team mates and of course family and friends, without all of you we probably wouldn’t have added to the trophy cupboards, if you’ve got any bubbly left join me in a toast, to you, to us, to Team Apollinaris!”
I raised my glass with the rest, “Apollinaris!”
“Apollinaris!” the room replied with gusto after which I found my seat again.
“That was brill girl,” Mand hissed past Ron.
“Not bad for a short arse like,” Josh called across the table.
Any further verbal intercourse was halted by George tapping his glass again.
“Thank you for the speech Fraulein Bond. Before some of you hit the bar I’ve some more news for you all. Firstly, one of our stalwarts, Maria has decided to retire at the end of this season to go into the wine business, Maria, I’m sure we are all sorry to see you go and wish you well in your future life. Its not farewell to the Pinger family though, Katia will join us full time for next season which should make Petra’s life a little easier. So another toast, Maria!”
“Maria!” we returned.
“And lastly, the young man looking a bit lost next to Tina is Darren Fox who Dave has signed up for the junior team, I’m reliably informed he’s the next hot thing from England, he’ll be joining the rest of you in the blue jerseys with immediate effect,” he swapped languages before going on, “welcome to our family Darren.”
Josh pushed him to his feet, the nervous lad turning a shade to rival my hair as a variety of ‘welcomes’ were offered.
“What did Eva want?” I enquired when Mand bounced back to where the junior squad were sharing a purloined bottle of white wine.
“Meet Der Mühle’s new Kellnerin!” she beamed.
“What? Full time?” Tal suggested.
“Well three days a week to start with.”
“Wit aboot training hen?” Josh enquired.
“Plenty of time, I don’t start till twelve.”
“What about cheer?” I asked, “and the Stube?”
“I’m coming down tomorrow to sort out my hours, and,” she grinned planting a present on the table, “I scored another bottle off Chris!”
“So you gonna come live in Germany then?” I asked Daz.
He shrugged, “you know about the BC stuff?”
“Yeah, sucks big time.”
“Well we’re staying at the house until September so you’re stuck with me till then.”
“What about next year?”
“Your Dad says he’ll have something sorted out by then, in the meantime I’ll train at home and come over for the training camps.”
Training camps?
“Uh huh, so you getting bikes and stuff?”
“Next year, I use my own the rest of this season I think.”
“It’ll be weird having two boys on the team.”
“It’ll be weird with four girls,” he countered.
“Did you know about Maria Mum?”
“Its been a bad secret in the team since the spring, its one reason we pulled Ron over when we did, get her settled in before next season kicks off.”
“You’re not tempted Jen?” Mand queried.
“Never say never,” Mum replied, “I reckon I’m good for another season or two yet. Oh while I remember, George is talking with the garage, looks like we’re getting some new wheels.”
“Neat,” Mand offered.
“Bigger than this I hope.”
“Beggars can’t be choosers Gab but I did hint to George that something a bit bigger might be in order, especially as your Dad uses it almost as much as me.”
“How did the interview go Mand?” Dad asked.
He knew about that too?
“Its not exactly the career I ever dreamed of but I got the job.”
“Don’t knock it Mand,” Mum opined, “there's always work in the service industries and even Wonder Woman here serves tables.”
“For now,” I added.
“Its something you can come back to Mand, wherever you find yourself,” Mum reiterated.
The taxi pulled up at Bond Acres and we clambered out into the now fresh night air, I gave a shiver, Mand must be freezing in her strappy number exposing all that er, chest. Yeah, Dad gave in to temptation, well the round of toasting and the beer George kept ‘forcing’ on him so we got a slightly cramped ride in a Golf estate.
“How’d you know Eva wanted staff?”
“I didn’t, well she sort of hinted last time I did the crepe stall, anyhow when I mentioned getting a job to your dad earlier he suggested I give her a call first, the rest is history.”
“So you’re staying then?”
“Couldn’t leave you to fight the baddies on your own could I?”
“You gonna do college or something?”
“You know I’m not very academic, Eva says there’s some what did she call ‘em, can’t remember, anyway they’re like some sort of day release thing, you collect credits and get a stertificate after.”
“Maybe I should do that instead of going to management college.”
“Don’t be daft Gab, you’ll go to University and stuff, day release is for thickos like me.”
“You aren’t thick, maybe you just haven’t found your niche yet.”
“Maybe my niche is serving beer to fat Germans.”
“They tip well, hey, you could do the Oktoberfest!”
“Do I want to?”
Well okay, little steps.
Maddy Bell © 10.10.2017
“Thought you’d be up yesterday.”
“Thought you might’ve called round,” Con suggested.
“I had stuff,” I offered in my defence as I finished changing from Radrennerin to short order cook.
“I heard,” she admitted, “Nen told me about the party.”
“I think the whole valley saw you on the telly Gabs,” Kris added.
“That’ll be everyone except me.”
“How’d you miss that?” Kris queried, sticking a cup of coffee in my hand.
How indeed? “had to do my washing from the weekend.”
“So lets see then,” Con demanded.
My friends might not understand my sporting fixation but they always want to see the spoils, a fact I had at least planned for.
“They’re not much to look at.”
“Shiny!” Kris offered taking a gong and fondling it.
“Gabrielle Bond, under eighteen individual time trial,” Con read off, “that's where you race on your own right?”
“There was a clue there Connie,” Kris mentioned.
“I was just checking.”
“They real gold Gab?” Kris queried.
“Don’t think so, plated I expect.”
“Thats a swizz,” Con stated as they exchanged gongage.
“The Weltmeisterin one’s definitely gold, there's a certificate and everything in the box.”
“Must be worth a fortune,” Kris suggested.
“Its not like I can go to the bank and cash it in, not that I would anyway.”
“I guess,” she allowed, “we putting out the parasols today?”
Con looked out the window, “there’s a few clouds up there.”
“See what it’s like when Max gets here,” I suggested, “we can get him to put them up.”
“Sneaky!” Con offerred.
“Like your thinking Bond,” Kris added.
I pulled Con into the back and whispered in her lug, “what we doing for Nen’s birthday?”
“Go for a meal?”
“Right, so what you getting her?”
“Dunno, I hadn’t thought about it, why?”
“Just something she said yesterday.”
Con raised an eyebrow in question.
“I was trying to decide what to wear last night, she sort of hinted I was lucky to have so much choice.”
“I doubt even the Queen has as much, you have got quite a bit in that cupboard.”
“Yeah,” I agreed with a sigh, “anyhow I was wondering whether we could put to and get her a nice dress or undies, what do you reckon?”
“Sounds okay, what about the others?”
“Not asked but the more in, the more to spend I guess.”
“You two doing any work?” Kris called back.
“Er yeah, be right there,” Con returned.
“I’ll ring round later.”
“Don’t forget we’re working tonight.”
“I know,” bum, it had sort of slipped my mind.
“Ma-ax?” I cooed when the object of my attentions arrived at the window.
“’brellas?”
“Please,” I giggled.
Oonly for you ladies,” he agreed.
Yes! I gave a very unladylike arm pump in celebration of the success of my tactic which brought a roll of Con’s eyes in reply.
“So how’d it go last night?”
“Woulda been better with you there,” I suggested dipping another potato stick into the mayo on his plate.
“We still on for tonight?” he queried sawing at his schnitzel.
“What about Con and Mand?”
“They won’t mind, this your Jäger?”
“Er yeah, I did a batch last week, what’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing,” he defended, “its better than mums, right creamy.”
Well I couldn’t help glowing with pride.
“Maybe a bit salty mind,” he concluded with a thoughtful look.
Well say pride comes before a fall, “huh!”
“Its alright though.”
“I could go off people,” I huffed.
“Honest Gab, its just that's its a bit different to normal.”
“Hmm,” I allowed.
“So i’ll be at the Stube at nine, i’ll leave my bike at yours and walk up right?” he told me before stuffing more Schnitzel into his maw.
I sighed deeply, “’kay.”
“Ouch!”
“Well sit still then.”
“I am.”
“Coulda fooled me,” Mand suggested as she tugged my locks into some sort of order for the evening. “so you seeing Max tonight then?”
“He’s gonna walk us home.”
“Really?”
“Really, how’d you know anyhow?”
“You are so transparent Gaby dear.”
“I am?”
“You only ever have a ring in your schnozz when Max will be about.”
There was no point in denying it, most of the time I have a tiny stud in the hole, “you think Mum noticed?”
“She wasn’t born yesterday Gab,” Mand pointed out, “there, the perfect Prussian princess.”
“Hardly perfect.”
“Aha, so you admit to being a princess, I knew it!”
“Give over!”
“Yes your majesty, come on or we’ll be late.”
“Con’s not here yet,” I mentioned as we headed downstairs.
“Oh yes she is,” said individual called up.
“When’d you get here?”
“’bout five minutes ago, your mum let me in. Max meeting us then?”
“Not you too,” I sighed.
“What’d I say?”
“We just had this conversation upstairs Con,” Mand supplied.
“Does everyone know?”
“Maybe not Frau Holdorf,” Con suggested.
“Can you ask your boyfriend to pop in and see me when he gets here Gaby,” Herr Sebenschuh requested.
Really? Does everyone know?
“Er okay Mr S,” guess i’d best give him a call, to warn him.
“So, Connie, Amanda coats please, P and Gaby drinks, ah, looks like them now.”
It was indeed, the huge bus swinging easily into the car park to disgorge its cargo of eager English holidaymakers.
“There’s something different about you Gaby,” Julia, the coach guide suggested.
“Mand was playing with my hair earlier.”
“Nope, Col?”
“Don’t ask me, you look gorgeous as usual Gaby,” the driver flanneled.
“Er thanks.”
“Got it, you’ve had your nose pierced!” Julia announced.
“Er, months ago actually,” I pointed out, “i usually just have a stud in.”
“That must be it, the ring looks cute on you, just fancied a change huh?”
“Her boyfriend likes it,” Mand told the Englishwoman, “they’re on their way back Gabs.”
“’kay.”
“Boyfriend eh?” Julia probed.
I tried to play things down a bit, “well he’s a boy and a friend, he helped us out the other week when the German girl came?”
“I think she did mention a lad.”
“Well i’d best get ready for your passengers, the others’ll be wondering what I’m up to.”
We’re a well oiled machine (not that sort of oiled!) these days, we can serve fifty covers a full course in minutes flat. The menu is always the same although Mrs S, Eva does something different, well the family meal, for the crew. Tonight's lot were quite docile but there was more beer than wine on the table, not usually a sign of Mr S doing much business on the cellar tour.
Max waved to me when he arrived, I pointed over to the bar where Pia’s dad was tallying up the till.
“What’s all that about P?” I asked, we were busy moving and laying tables for the morrow.
“No idea, he was on about entertainment the other day, could be that I guess.”
“Max? He can’t hold a tune to save himself,” I chortled.
“Who said anything about singing,” Con pointed out.
“Like these,” Max mentioned lifting a loop of my ornately braided hair.
“Mand got a bit carried away.”
“I approve,” he chuckled.
“Don’t get any ideas von Strechau,” I advised, “ so what did Helmut want you for?”
“Yodelling.”
“Yodelling?” I parroted.
“Yes, yodelling,” he reiterated, “the Lions are putting on some sort of Heimat thing, he’s recruiting ‘volunteers’.”
“Its a wonder he hasn’t asked any of us girls, some of us can at least hold a tune.”
“Don’t think they want Dark Purple.”
“Its Deep Purple and why not?”
“Think lederhosen and thigh slapping?”
“Really?”
“Straight up, you fancy having a go?”
“Not likely!”
“Damn, i’d best get you taken off the list then.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nope, but your face was a picture.”
“You!” I slapped at his arm.
“Yodel leh hey hoo!” he taunted skipping clear of my hand.
“What’s that racket?” Mand called back to us.
“Get a shift on you two,” Con suggested.
Max loped up the road with me in pursuit, well you can’t really run in these frocks so I was more skipping than running, a terrible yodel issuing forth every few metres.
Maddy Bell © 12.10.2017
“We’ll see you at the kiosk then,” Mad stated as I slung by rucksack onto my back.
“Okay,” I agreed, “see you later.”
I pushed off and dropped into the lane to start my morning commute. With everything that’s been going on this week my mind was everywhere, I almost rode straight past Kris when she hailed me.
“What’s up?”
“You didn’t need to stop boss lady, I’m gonna be a couple of minutes late, I need to go to the bank on the way in.”
“Er sure, see you in a few.”
“Should only be about five minutes.”
“Bring some for me eh?” I playfully suggested as I resumed my ride.
In fact I was still changing when the ‘help’ turned up although I had got everything turned on and the bread inside.
“Everything okay?” I enquired slipping my apron on.
“Yeah, just getting the money out for my holiday.”
“Holiday?”
“Next week?” she prompted.
“Oh yeah,” I could hardly deny knowledge, “so where you going again?”
“Alicante, seven days of sun, sea and boys!” she enthused.
“You got your towel packed?”
She looked at me strangely, “they have towels at the hotel.”
“I meant for the sunbeds,” the look of incomprehension deterred me from pressing things, “yeah you’re probably right."
“You having a holiday this year?”
Good question.
“Nothing that exciting,” well I can sit around a pool in Remagen, “some of us are supposed to be going camping for a week.”
“Nice.”
We already had customers when Con arrived for the ‘late’ shift, well I get off early to go training so she comes in late to balance stuff.
I managed to corner my BFF out of earshot of Kris, “whats happening next week?”
“About what?”
“Cover for Kris,” I hinted.
“All in hand,” she smirked.
“What are you up to Thesing?"
"Nothing.”
“So?”
“You’re no fun.”
“I know so spill.”
“Steff’s gonna cover for us.”
“As in Steff ‘can’t boil water’ Oldberg.”
“She can boil water and we’ll still be doing the cooking anyhow.”
I wasn’t convinced, we usually end up doing our own catering when we go up to hers.
“And mum’ll come up at the weekend to help out,” she concluded.
“Pommes Gab!” Kris called out effectively ending our conversation.
“Everyone seems up for the dress,” I mentioned a bit later.
“Where’re we gonna get it?” Con asked.
“Dunno,” I admitted, “Tally?”
“Mum suggested we get her a gift voucher.”
“Looks a bit like we couldn’t be bothered.”
“What if we pick something she doesn’t like?”
“She can take it back and change it I suppose.”
“I guess, it won’t be very special though will it?”
It was a lightbulb moment, a flash of inspiration.
“How much we got in the kitty?”
“We agreed ten each, what’re you thinking?”
“What if we got her something made special?”
“Make it ourselves?”
“Duh, course not.”
“Well what then?”
“Eloise?”
“Geroff! They’ll charge way more than fifty for starters, I mean Nen ’ud love it but seriously Gab.”
“Leave it with me, bum is that the time?”
“Still got the flechten then,” Max observed as we settled at ‘our’ table, the sun through the fruit trees dappling his face.
“Its convenient for riding,” I allowed with a shrug.
“Vineyard tonight?” he suggested with more than a hint of hope in his voice.
“Soz, training, don’t know what time we’ll be back.”
He was clearly a bit deflated by my reply.
“Its been a busy week,” I told him.
“We’ve not had a decent snog since last week.”
“What about last night?”
“Hardly romantic was it what with that pair giggling at us.”
I have to admit Con and Mand didn’t exactly help the mood. I’m not desperate or anything, as if, but I really want to suck his face off!
“I’ll call you when I get back,” I proposed.
Despite the sun there was enough breeze to keep things a bit more temperate than some days of late, still short sleeves and sunnies but I reckon we might need arms of some sort if we’re out late. The rest of Team Apollinaris juniors, including Darren of course had caught the train up to Remagen where Mand met them for the ride up to Altenahr. They were well early and my stomach was rumbling, I only managed to snag one chunk of Max’s currywurst earlier, so I put a new load of frites on.
“Your dad’ll go loopy,” Gret suggested in English, although it didn’t stop her attacking her plate of würst and frites.
“Who’s telling him?” I queried.
“Ah reckon we stopped fer coffee like,” Josh proposed.
“Will he buy that?” Daz asked.
“I doubt it,” I admitted, ”but if we don’t tell him he won’t say anything directly.”
“You are a sly one Bond,” Con stated.
“Moi?”
After our impromptu late lunch, the six of us set off to start our ride, a long loop through the hills in preparation for this weekends return to ‘normal’ racing. I reckon we looked quite smart all in our team strip, Dad having found enough spare kit for Darren to match the rest of us. It didn’t take long for us to form up in pairs and start a through and off chain, not fast but talking pace steady.
“What are the others doing?” I enquired getting a spot next to Josh.
“Cav an’ that?”
“Who else?”
He shrugged, “think Caro was taking them up the valley again.”
“They’ll know that road like the back of their hands.”
“Pity we aren’t racing there,” he noted.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “links!” we negotiated around the pot hole before I continued, “so what do you reckon to this BC business?”
“Ahm not sure man, I’ve not been as involved as yous lot.”
“But you’ve been on the team.”
“Aye,” he allowed, “a bit like.”
“You must have an opinion Josh,” I suggested.
“It’ll be they’re loss,”
“It already is, apparently I’ll be riding for Germany in future.”
“I guess it was on the cards like, Caro says there’ll be a presence at the big events still and we’ll all be up for selection whether we’re on the programme or not.”
“You believe that?”
“Ah canna say it won’t happen.”
“What about Switzerland?”
“Woulda been nice to go back,” he admitted.
“Yeah,” I have to admit to having mixed thoughts about that but I certainly had hoped to defend my title, still Dad’s got us Spain instead, at least it shouldn’t rain there.
We turned at Dumpelfeld to follow the Ahr, our bit of river following taking us up to Blankenheim where we’ll start a somewhat bumpy route back towards the Rhein. Eventually we’ll end up at Chez Bond for dinner before Dad runs taxi back to Niederbieber. Anyhow it was nice to be in a group of friends with nothing at stake, oh we were sprinting for signs and that sort of thing but generally just enjoying riding.
Altogether its about a hundred kilometres, pretty much the same as Saturdays race although I don’t think its as lumpy down at Mainz.
“So you gonna have a new jersey for Saturday?” Daz asked as we enjoyed the descent from Effelsburg.
“I guess so,” I allowed.
“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you race in Apollinaris colours.”
“What about Yorkshire?”
“Nope, you had the rainbow stripes for the TT and the leaders jersey the other days.”
“Oh yeah,” I agreed, “and the other one was a league race wasn’t it, I’m in team strip now though.”
“Stop boasting Bond,” Tal suggested from my wheel.
“I wasn’t,” I told her before sticking my tongue out at her.
“Very adult Bond,” Mand suggested.
We’d left the kiosk just after four thirty in the end, it was now close on eight as we made our final approach to Dernau, all happily tired and ready for a sit down, food and a shower, not neccesarily in that order. Well I could hardly resist taking a flier on the drop from Anna’s at Esch, I can get a bit competitive okay? I already had my shoes off when the rest finally arrived with a clatter of cleats and exhausted sighs.
“Good ride?” Dad queried.
“Not bad Mr B,” Josh advised.
“Food’s nearly ready, showers first,” Mum instructed.
Well we don’t have six showers so the lads got the basement, Mand shared my en suit and Gret and Tal used the main bathroom below us. Dad had fetched Angela and their civvies up and so at last, a little after eight thirty the nine of us sat down to one of Mum’s excellent lasagne’s, a solid five layer affair accompanied by a salad and garlic bread. Our earlier peccadilo at the kiosk was long ago digested and forgotten, revived by the showers it was soon a table of banter and happy faces.
“Any of that left?”
All heads swung to the doorway.
“Juliette, we weren’t expecting you love,” Mum mentioned, “ no Boris?”
“We had an argument,” Jules sniffed.
“Come here, Gab, get your sister a plate.”
My sisters arrival certainly quieted the conversation but by the time I returned with another plate and eating irons my team mates were holding a more hushed discussion, well until Josh cracked a joke which even brought the semblance of a grin to Jules flushed face.
Discussion returned to more normal levels, the elephant in the room being ignored, Jules picked at her pasta with Mum holding her close. I wonder what’s gone off, enough to make my sister catch two trains to get back to the family home. Life in this house is never simple is it, at least this time its not me disrupting things.
Maddy Bell © 13.10.2017
“What do youreckon he’s done?” Mand asked retrieving another plate to dry from the pile on the counter.
“Or not done,” I suggested wiping the crockery in my paws.
Dad escaped with our guests fairly sharp, he’ll be a good hour so guess who’ve been lumbered with the clean up? And lasagne too, nightmare, everything had to be washed off before it went in the dishwasher – yeah, go figure. Mum and number one daughter disappeared upstairs for some privacy leaving instructions to nor disturb them.
“Must be something bad.”
“Probably forgot the washing up,” I mumbled.
“Its got to be more than that,” she insisted.
To be honest I actually like Boris, oh I know I’ve been less than gracious towards him at times but he’s always been nice to me and anyone who can put up with the Dark One’s mood swings gets my support. I know she’s my sister but we haven’t ever been what you’d call close, oh we sort of get along for the most part and in the past I must admit to idolising her but we’ve never really got the whole ‘closest friend’ thing. Which means I’ve not got any sort of inside track on what goes on in her head, what could spark the current drama.
“You drying that or waiting for a miracle?” I queried as Mand stood apparently staring into space.
“Eh, oh yeah.”
“Gab?” Mum’s voice trilled from the stairway.
“Hullo,” I replied stepping closer to the hallway to hear better.
“Can you do some cocoa please.”
“Er sure, everything okay?”
“Not now kiddo, cocoa?”
“Er right, be about ten minutes.”
“We’ll be in the lounge.”
“’kay,” I allowed.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Mand mouthed.
I shrugged, “you want Kakao?”
“You’ve convinced me.”
“You don’t have to.”
The look she gave me was venomous, I guess suggesting she didn’t want chocolate was a bit like a stab to her female self.
“Okay, was just saying.”
“Keep those evil thoughts to yourself Gaby Bond!”
I rolled my eyes, hung up my tea towel and started assembling the makings for our late night beverages.
The TV was on, talking to itself like usual, when I arrived in the family room with a tray of cocoa cups, Mand following with the ‘special’ biscuit barrel, the one with actual English biscuits rather than the quite boring Bahlsen® things in the local shops. You really can’t beat dunking bourbon creams or shortbread in your chocolate, hard enough to not go soggy too fast, soft enough not break your teeth.
“Thanks,” Jules mumbled.
“Biscuit?” Mand offered my sibling.
Jules shook her head no, it must be bad for her to turn down a chocolate digestive!
“There any bourbons in there?” Mum asked, well like mother, like daughter I guess.
Mand passed her the tin, but not before swiping a couple of custard creams.
As Jules was in my favourite spot on the sofa I perched myself on the arm of the armchair Mand claimed. Yes the telly was bleating away but an awkward silence occupied the room as we sipped at our drinks.
“Oh,” Mum suddenly came to life, “George says your new champions jerseys will be here tomorrow.”
“Thats quick,” I opined.
“Can’t have you missing out showing them off,” she grinned.
“It’ll be weird not wearing Apollinaris strip,” Mand, a hint of excitement in her voice, mentioned.
“You get used to it,” I put in, “and anyway you’ll still be in blue for the road races.”
“Some of us only won one title.”
“I can’t help being brilliant.”
“Girls!” Mum stated in a warning to not escalate things.
“Just saying,” I added cheekily.
Through all this Jules just sipped at her cocoa and stared at the idiot box where they were discussing some new legislation about olives coming through Brussels – rivetting prime time viewing – not.
“When do you start at Der Mühle Mandy?”
“Next week, she wants me to go down tomorrow afternoon to learn the till and stuff.”
“You got a job Mand?” Jules queried.
“Only part time, filling in for when Chris goes to college, I think she’s on the same course you’re doing Gab.”
“At least you’ll know someone eh Princess,” Mum suggested.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“You’re not doing A’s then?” Jules asked the new barmaid.
“iIdoubt I’ll have passed my GCSE’s so I might as well earn some money, so which Uni are you going to?”
It was like a fire door slamming shut, I guess we know what the disagreement with Boris was about.
“That sounds like your Dad,” Mum suggested, “I’ll go make him a drink.”
Thanks Mum.
“I’m going to bed,” my sister advised us.
“Er yeah, good idea, I’m pooped,” Mand told us.
Of course, having an inkling of the cause of Jules – Boris disagreement meant I couldn’t get to sleep. I know they were hoping to both go to the same university, one of the English Red Bricks so it must be something to do with that I guess. From what she said when Max and I went up the other week she’s applied to several Uni’s near our former domicil in the north Midlands, I’m not even sure how it works apart from needing the right A level passes.
I suppose i’ve got all that stuff to look forward although going through the German system I’ll have different hoops to jump. So did she not get in, not get the grades? No doubt I will find out eventually.
“Can you bring some more Pommes Con?”
“’kay.”
A moment later she plonked a bag down beside me.
“Thanks.”
“We need to order more, there’s only four more bags in there.”
“Hope we don’t get a run before Monday then,” I mentioned.
“I’ll do a stock check, I can ring it through when I get home.”
“Pity we don’t have a phone here,” I noted.
“Would be useful,” my partner agreed finding a notepad and writing implement, “won’t be long.”
How long is long? Well its Sod’s law of course that as soon as she disappeared, a queue of hopeful diners appeared at the window.
“Kris!”
“Coming.”
Its gonna be weird next week without her, she’s more of a fixture here than me. Yeah its certainly going to be a weird week, Kris away in Alicante, Mand starting work at Der Mühle and the return of the prodigal daughter to Bond Acres. Not sure how long the latter’s going to be for, she’s hardly been home for more than a few hours since setting up house with Boris at the flat, strange times indeed.
“Was that your sister I saw in the village this morning?” Max asked over his lunchtime Frikadel.
“Possibly, she’s home for a few days, what were you doing in Dernau?”
“Probably was her then.”
“So?”
“Eh?”
I’m not sure if he was being perverse or not, he is a boy after all, “Dernau?”
“Oh, errand for dad.”
Look I was curious okay?
“Do you know where your dad buys his Pommes, its costing us a fortune from the wholesalers.”
“Buy? Wash your mouth out Gaby Bond, they’re all made by us, well me quite often, from finest German Kartoffel.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Hmm, I guess that might work.”
“I am not making all your Frites.”
“You eat enough of them,” I pointed out.
“That’s hardly the same, I’m a valued regular customer.”
“Who never pays,” I hinted.
“Well I have a very beautiful girlfriend who likes to see me fed well.”
“Who is she? I hope she pays.”
“We do have a cutter,” he mentioned.
“I suppose you get the taters direct from the farm?”
“Well duh, you know we do, everything locally sourced apart from your English Lamm.”
“Not really practical for this place, well except maybe the Pommes,” I allowed.
“What do you reckon to doing our own Pommes?” I enquired of my colleagues as we grabbed a coffee between rushes.
“What’s wrong with the frozen ones?” Kris queried.
“Well nothing really,” I admitted.
“What are you plotting Bond?” Con asked.
“You know Max cuts the Frites at his dad’s restaurant?”
“And?”
“Well they never run out do they, just make some more when they need them.”
“You still need potato’s that need peeling as well as cutting up before you can fry them.”
“They have a cutter,” I pointed out.
“And who gets stuck doing that?” Kris enquired.
“We could all do some,” I suggested.
“Because we’ve got loads of spare time, come on Gab, get real,” Con told me.
“Okay, okay, it was just an idea.”
A brain worm idea, all I could think of for the rest of the afternoon was hand cut chips.
“That smells good,” I mentioned when I walked in doors, “where’s Mum?”
“At Maria’s I think she said.”
“You’re cooking?”
“I can you know,” she huffed.
“I didn’t mean, oh whatever,” I huffed in turn.
“You could lay the table as I’ve saved you from cooking,” she suggested.
“Yes mother.”
“You won’t get any pudding,” she threatened.
“Which is?”
“Rhubarb crumble.”
“Where did you get rhubarb from?”
“They had some in Penny when I went in, there’s enough for another one,” she pointed to several puny looking sticks on the draining board – not exactly top quality English but beggars can’t be choosers.
“Custard?” I hinted.
“Maybe, table?”
“Okay, i’m going.”
Maybe it won’t be so bad having Jules about of she’s gonna do some of the cooking, it smells like Shepherds Pie or something like that, yum. Anyone would think I’m homesick for England.
Maddy Bell © 14.10.2017
“Really?” I queried holding my new German champions jersey up for appraisal.
Dinner turned out to be lamb cobbler, a variation on the mince and vegetables idea, the rhubarb was a bit tart but a couple of spoons of sugar sorted that out. It was all simple stuff but who says you need complicated? Food out of the way Dad had passed out our new national champions strips.
“Maybe it is a bit much,” Dad allowed.
Bit much is putting it mildly, apart from the sponsors logos its effectively just a German flag front and back, not exactly subtle.
“Try it on Gab,” Mand encouraged as she modelled her much nicer white design with just the red, white and blue hoops across her chest and back.
“I’ve got Garde, Dad?”
“It’ll wait,” he agreed, “come on then.”
“So what’s happening with Jules,” I probed as we headed up the valley.
“She hasn’t told you?”
“Nada.”
“this goes no further right?”
“Cross my heart.”
“Boris has got a place at Heidelberg University.”
“Thats good right?” Even I know Heidelberg is one of the top universities in the country, perhaps Europe.
“Very except he didn’t tell your sister he’d applied and she’s got offers at Lincoln and Sheffield.”
“Ah,” I allowed, “I can see why she’s miffed.”
“Its a bit more than being ‘miffed’ as you put it, they were going to be sharing a flat which would’ve cut their costs tremendously, this throws everything in the air.”
“Bum.”
“Indeed, remember what I said.”
“Yeah, yeah, so they breaking up?”
“I don’t get to find these things out till afterwards kiddo, I guess its possible.”
“I like Boris.”
“We all do love, I’m sure we’ll sort something out.”
“Aaaannnd relax,” Han told us.
It might not be very physical compared to cheering but Garde can be quite exhausting and I collapsed in a puddle against the nearest wall.
“You look like you’re somewhere else Gab,” our coach opined.
“Er sorry, some stuff at home.”
“You want to talk?”
“Oh its not me, my sister.”
“Offer stands,” she advised with a questioning look.
“Thanks but I guess she has to sort it out herself.”
“She’s older yes?”
“Two years.”
“My sister is three more than me.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister?”
“Why should you? She lives in Madrid with her husband, its not like you’re likely to meet.”
“I guess not.”
“She ran away when I was fourteen, we only found out a year later she was okay, it nearly killed Mama.”
“Jules has moved back home.”
“Ah.”
Yup, that just about said everything.
We obviously had to set off fairly early to pick up the others but its only about an hour and a half to Wendelsheim, our destination, without that diversion. Todays race is billed as the Rheinland Pfalz junior championship, its open to anyone, there’s not a special jersey to wear, just a trophy and a line on your palmares. The attraction for us, and the BC guys following us is that its one of very few ‘big’ races this time of year which also means there will be a quality field attracted to race here.
“How much further?” I quested again.
“Use the one in back,” Dad suggested.
“But its not a wee,” I whispered.
“Just go, we’ll be at least thirty minutes yet.”
I’d need a big cork to hold on that long so I scuttled back to the campers bathroom.
“Its three laps, about forty seven a lap,” Dad told us, “feed station is about halfway round lap two so make sure you have your pocket rations.”
“A hundred and forty kilometres?” Tal queried.
“I know its a bit longer than your used to but there aren’t any bad climbs, it just rolls up and down a bit.”
“That’s worse,” Mand put in.
“Well you cope at home, there’s nothing as long or steep here,” Dad advised, “any more questions before we talk tactics?”
“You look like a road sign Gab,” Gret chuckled.
“Tell me about it,” I sighed, “and I can’t get in the pockets, they’re too high or something.”
“Yup,” Tal agreed after peering behind me.
“These gel things are just wrong,” Darren commented.
His use of English reminded me, “English today guys or we’ll lose Daz.”
Tal rolled her eyes, “as if we’d forget.”
“Come on yous lot or we’ll be starting at the back like,” Josh prompted.
As road captain today he’s in charge so we all followed him towards the gathering of riders out on the road.
There certainly was a good field, I spotted jerseys from as far away as Stuttgart and Essen alongside the likes of Innerthausen and the girls from up Wuppertal way. Of course the GB strips grabbed quite a bit of attention, more I’m glad to say than my horrendous flag outfit. No rider introductions today either but instead we had to listen to a ten minute diatribe by some official before the guest starter even took to the microphone.
With such a long race ahead of us the start was a bit of an anti climax, no one wanting to waste energy with possibly some five hours of racing ahead of us. Instead it was a slow roll out of the village, the neutral zone was quite short, less than a kilometre for sure and then we were straight into the first climb.
“Thought this was supposed to be flat,” Mand complained as we climbed out of the saddle in the middle of the peloton.
“It is,” I suggested.
“Compared to what, Switzerland?”
Well I had to agree, flat it isn’t but although fairly steep it wasn’t long and we soon rolled over the top. The bunch remained pretty much intact, we were only doing about twenty five on the flat, the marshals struggling to keep their motorbikes down to our speed. Yeah, clearly we weren’t the only ones with a plan.
Up, down, up, down, at least the road was fairly straight, no sharp corners so far at least. After the second village we hit a long rise that took us into forest, the road mottled with shadow which hid the imperfections in the surface. Of course that resulted in an off, well several riders went down after one tried to flick around a lump too late, yup, it’ll definitely be safer in a smaller peloton.
The next couple of villages and dozen or so kilometres of trees introduced us to some more interesting turns, climbs and drops before we descended through the feed station. Still no one seemed keen to take up the baton but there were a few itchy feet around us, it wouldn’t be long now, not long at all. I managed to fish a gel packet from my pocket and forced myself to swallow the slimy contents, think I’d prefer a narna.
Although not Roman road straight the road returned to a more gently rolling landscape, any escape would easily be visible most of the time. But of course teenagers aren’t known for their patience and with close on thirty K on the clock the first attack was instigated. There was a bit of looking around before any pursuit was made then it was like the dam had broken as one after another riders took off the front.
The net result, over the next couple of kilometres was that the pace lifted and a few riders were shelled but otherwise the bunch was all together again. The road became a bit more wobbly both up and down as well as side to side then we swept through a dip before the road dropped more steeply towards, I’m guessing the sharp right Dad was on about. Time for action I guess, I touched Josh’s thigh, he just nodded by way of reply before leading me through to the front of the pack, not the lead but a few wheels back.
Not a moment too soon, flashing lights, red flags and a chorus of whistles alerted anyone still unaware of the turn. Of course this caused some panic and over reaction just as Dad had surmised which allowed the pair of us to exit the corner in the lead. Josh hit boost and I had to scrabble to keep his wheel as we accelerated away, of course it wasn’t a clean escape, I could hear multiple riders following us but the die was cast.
The next village has a couple of tighter corners and Josh kept on the gas until we had open road and less than three kilometres to finish the lap. The pair of us pulled off and I wasn’t too surprised to find Herr Innerthausen take the lead. I checked the numbers, a dozen, not bad and I reckon we have three hundred metres, not bad at all.
Our other breakaway companions got the idea when Paul in turn swung off and with a fairly rapid rotation our speed hovered close on forty along to Wendelsheim. There were spectators all around the circuit but the biggest concentration were of course here. And so there was a hearty cheer as we went through, bolstered by the scratchy PA, then we were back into the silence of the countryside.
“Nice jersey Bond,” Innerthausen mentioned as we honked up that first climb for the second time.
“Well dandy,” I allowed.
“This it then do you think?”
“The GB lads will probably try to get across,” I suggested.
“I saw the Weltmeister sat near the back.”
“He seems to like it back there,” I agreed.
We quickly resumed the rotation after the climb, game on.
Only eleven of us emerged from the forest, a puncture claiming a lad I knew from Frankfurt. It was certainly easier to dodge the lumps under the trees in this smaller group, not for the first time I wished for flatter light rather than the harsh sun light of mid morning. And there it was, the feed zone and waiting patiently I could see Dad and Angela with our musettes.
Grab the strap, pull over your head and unload, Dad’s had us practicing the manouevre time and again. It might seem simple enough but get it wrong, drop or miss the bag and there can be nasty repercussions, a crash immediately perhaps but bonk later almost certainly. So practice we do, I pushed the energy bars in one pocket, dried fruit in the other and after a little juggling swapped depleted bidons for fresh.
I threw the empty musette into the edge, took a swig from a new bottle and I was ready to resume the battle.
“Pace is dropping man,” Josh confided.
“Theres still a way to go.”
“Aye but we don’t want Jamie or Mark up here like.”
“Thats what Daz and the girls are for,” I pointed out.
“Aye,” he agreed.
Everyone took their turn, some maybe shorter than others but at least no one was sitting out. Paul looks to be the biggest danger, he’s stronger and a lot more experienced than when we first crossed tyres in Switzerland last year. Of the others I was on nodding terms with all but two, two unknowns who so far were pulling their weight in our escape group.
There was actually a tail wind on this stretch but not enough to really assist us although it certainly helped a little on the ups. Then there it was, the last hilltop before ‘the bend’, we’ve been out here for over forty K, more than an hour’s effort. Now we’ve just got to hang on for another fifty kilometres, we made the turn and I nodded to Josh, time to instigate the second part of the plan.
Maddy Bell © 14.10.2017
It was a simple enough plan, a bit of misdirection, some waiting on my part, worst case it wouldn’t work but without trying we won’t know eh? The escort ahead of us pulled away in advance of the twists and turns in Wonsheim and I let myself drift off off Josh’s wheel. The Toon is a master at this stuff, we’ve done similar moves before but that's no guarantee of success today, we passed the village sign and he was off.
There was some hesitation, I think the rest expected me to follow suit but that would’ve been a bit obvious for Dad’s devious mind. As soon as it was clear that I wasn’t going anywhere the reaction started, one, two, four set off in pursuit. Innerthausen gave me a curious look before following himself, oh he knew we were up to something but what?
Our depleted group of five followed through the twists and turns of Wonsheim, a group consisting of what I’d picked out as the weakest in the break – oh and me. When I say weakest I don’t mean to be disparaging but these are the less confident, less experienced riders, not lacking in fitness or strength. And I’d already picked out my patsy, I mean Scheinen Ritter, a slight, nervous looking lad riding for some club in Mainz.
Josh and his chasers were out of sight briefly through the turns, when we emerged from the village we were already two hundred metres in arrears. Of course the danger of this move is that my little group get caught from behind so its imperative that I get this lot working and quickly.
Oh the idea isn’t to ride up to the leaders but rather not to lose too much road to them.
“You lot gonna chase or what?”
“Whats the point,” a lad from one of the Frankfurt teams queried, “they’re away now, including your mate.”
“There’s still a lap to go, we could get back on.”
“They’re stronger than us,” Mainz boy suggested.
“Only in their heads, if we don’t do something the bunch’ll swallow us, stay ahead and the prizes go to tenth,” I hinted.
If there’s one thing that motivates teenage boys its avarice.
“She’s right,” another of our party agreed, “come on, they aren’t that far ahead.”
Yes! With the seed planted we were quickly organised in a rotation although this girly was only trying so hard.
“Twenty!” Dad yelled a couple of minutes later as we made our penultimate pass of the line in Wendelsheim.
I was surprised he was already there but they could cut across the middle of the circuit from the feed, still it must’ve been quite a chase in the camper! But twenty, yeah that's okay as long as this lot keep working, the first test of that is barely a kilometre away. It sounds a lot, twenty seconds, but at race speeds its maybe two hundred metres, you can see that far easily most of the time and when I hit the front, sure enough there they were.
I climbed through the bends easily but despite being quite short it was too much for one of our number who blew big style in sight of the top. Well can’t be helped I guess, up ahead Josh’s group shed two riders in similar fashion, that spurred my lot on, we swallowed one who got on but the other wasna going nowhere but backwards.
“That English, he’s a devil!” our new recruit told us.
That's our Josh.
“Devil?” Mainz queried as we reformed our chase.
“He came up that climb in the big ring, never eased at all.”
What can I say?
It wasn’t too obvious but over the next couple of kilometres Josh gradually turned up the screw which in turn meant our little group of chasers had to work harder to stay, however remotely, in touch.
“There’s some riders coming up,” one of our party huffed shortly before we reached the forest.
Dang, I thought we’d have a bit longer. I manouvered myself to be next to Mainz boy.
“You still up for a slice of the pie?”
He gave a shrug, “not gonna have legs for a sprint.”
“If who I think is behind us you’d lose anyway, there’s another way,” I suggested.
“Like what?”
“Give me hand bridging to the front?” I let the idea hang, taking a glug from my bidon.
Give him his due, he did the math quickly, “go on then.”
“The climb out of the next village, be ready.”
I just hope we’ve got that far before Cav and his helpers reach this lot.
I’ll admit to allowing myself a look back on one of the longer straights, yup, Mark was definitely in the chase group, his rainbow jersey is quite distinctive, a pale blue Apollinaris jersey too, Darren? One of the girls? My glance was only enough to gauge their deficit, I reckon about two fifty metres, maybe twenty seconds, this might just work. The rest of our quintet, whilst still racing, seemed to have lost their earlier enthusiasm, maybe ideas of being in a bigger group were clouding their brain cells, it should make my counter move easier to pull off.
We dropped into Oberwiesen, briefly losing sight of our quarry through the centre, the chasers hopefully won’t see my move either. Its not a big climb, the sort of thing that standing on the pedals you can roll up without changing gear, sat you’ll need to play with the levers though. As the others started thinking of gear changes I stood and kept my momentum going, hopefully Mainz is following my lead.
After the initial climb the road dragged upwards, just enough to remind you that we’re still climbing, but the elastic had already snapped. My unwitting helper came through and I gratefully fell on his wheel as he ploughed the tarmac. We had in fact very quickly opened a gap, a furtive look under my arm had us well clear, not a moment too soon, the chasers were about to make contact.
I took my turn on the front, the leaders were still a chunk of road away but hopefully Josh will remember the plan and ‘blow’ on the next drag. Likely not but Innerthausen is the only one likely to twig there’s something going off. Mainz and myself kept at it, not long turns but not through and off either.
And there it was, the figure of Josh sitting up. It’s not really an issue if the others keep going, it’ll take more than Herr Innerthausen to keep them ahead now. Josh however only dropped enough pace to lose the others, we still needed to ride to close the gap to him.
We reached him within the next kilo, he matched his speed to ours and we were three chasing three.
“Alright?”
“Aye man, Innerthausen looked a bit suspicious mind.”
“I’d expect that, t’others?”
“Strong like but if we steam through they shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Cav’s bridged.”
“Fat lot o’ good that’ll do him like,” Josh grinned back.
With the Toon onboard we started to close the remaining gap a little faster, Mainz boy so far unfaltering in his efforts but lets face it, a maybe lower half of top ten to an almost guaranteed top six is a good incentive after all. By the time we dropped out of the forest towards the former feed station we were almost close enough to touch the leaders, behind us Cav’s group seemed to have stalled after catching my former chase companions. All to the good, its under twenty K to the final showdown.
We held off making contact until we exited Gerbach.
“i knew you were up to something,” Innerthausen stated.
“Moi?”
“Gaby Bond, you are always up to something.”
I gave a shrug, “thats why i’m wearing this jersey and your not.”
“Whatever,” he sighed before moving away.
Of course there was a lot more to Dad’s tactical planning, stuff to hopefully give Apollinaris, me specifically the edge in the finale. Josh could most likely have driven the leaders to the finish but he’d be the first to admit to a lack of a sprint. No, getting me to the finish in a small, tired group has much more chance of an Apollinaris victory.
And it was clear that our other companions were on the rivet, Mainz looked to be hanging in by will power, one of the others had that glazed look of near total exhaustion. Out of six that left four to contest the finish, three as Josh won’t go against me. One unknown and Paul, the odds look good.
Resting up wasn’t an option, how many races have been lost by less than a hundred percent commitment? Well a fair few but not by the Bond women, ut uh, I think we’re genetically committed to give our all. The final climb came into view, its under ten kilometres from the top, maybe fifteen minutes effort to the line.
It seemed to take forever to reach the incline and would you believe it, Innerthausen went for a flier. Well I had to react, it was really a bit too soon but it’d be too dangerous to wait. He got about a ten metre drop on me but didn’t gain more before the summit and the plummet to the hairpin.
I lost a few metres on the descent, I guess I give Paul a good ten kilos but I’d rather play catch up than have to drag the extra uphill. The significant thing was that we were now well clear of the others, Innerthausen clearly didn’t want to contest a sprint, on the other hand that’s my preferred scenario. I assumed a speed crouch and set about rejoining him on the gently rolling approach to the end of hostilities.
By Wonsheim and its bends I’d regained enough to not be concerned, but do I wait for the sprint or not? I took a long pull on my bottle then emptied the rest on the road, the remaining fruit in my pockets went the same way, no use to me now. Time to see what the boy’s made of, I slipped down a sprocket and closed the remaining couple of metres.
And kept going, my quarry uttered something impolite when I went past at sufficient distance that he couldn’t flip straight on my wheel. If I wasn’t already I definitely am completely in now, the first inkling of the red mist approaching from the extremes of my vision. Deep breaths Gab, don’t overcook it now.
My advice worked, its all too easy to forget to breath properly at times like this, the mist receded some as I gulped in more air. And there it was, the red kilometre to go board, the town sign board, the marshalls waving flags at the last corner. I moved into the drops, and picked my line to clip the apex, keeping pedalling at full gas.
Two hundred to go, I flicked the gear shift and started my sprint, I’m not taking any chances. The spectators, the MC, both were making a lot of noise, concentrate girl, hundred to go. There was stuff happening behind me, no idea what, no time to give it thought, fifty, twenty five, I thrust an arm in the air as I crossed the line.
“Damn Bond, another fifty,” Cav wheezed as he overtook me as I freewheeled along the street.
“Eh?” I managed. They were that close? Glad I didn’t look.
The official result was two seconds to Cav who had a further three back to the lad in third. So near, so far.
“I’m dead,” Gret complained as she collapsed onto the campers sofa.
“And we’re not?” Tali opined.
“Never thought that last lap was gonna end,” Mand added as she dragged her jersey over her head.
“Mand?” I hinted.
“Eh?”
“Don’t mind me,” Daz groaned from the floor.
“Bum,” Mand allowed, “I forgot we’d got a boy here.”
“What about Josh?” Tal enquired.
“He is a bit big to miss,” Gret chortled.
“While you’re arguing I’m nabbing the shower,” I told them smartly dodging Mands attempt at restraint.
“Well done everyone,” Dad enthused.
“But Cav nearly got Gab like,” Josh observed.
“Nearly but not quite,” I smirked from across the table.
“Even if he had won, you all worked as a team, you all finished, not a bad result.”
“Can we have some wine then?” Manda cheekily asked.
“One glass,” Dad sighed.
“Yes!” Tali and Gret celebrated.
“Why does it feel like I’ve been had?” Dad queried.
“It happens Dave,” Angela mentioned.
“So what are we eating like?”
Trust Josh to be more interested in his stomach than scoring the vino.
Maddy Bell © 7.11.2017
“You doing anything for your Geburtstag Tal?” Gret queried as we headed out to the Hymer.
“My man did mention going to Koblenz, lunch in the Altstadt.”
“Some nice restaurants there,” Mand enthused.
“It was mentioned,” Tal hinted at the Toon.
“Ah did?” Josh queried.
“Josh!” the female contingent chorused.
“Looks like you’re caught hook, line and sinker,” Daz chuckled.
“Ah guess like,” the big lad agreed.
“Someone's phone,” Angela hinted as we trundled back north an hour or so later.
“Gab,” Mand stated having recognised the ringtone.
After a manic search of my kit bag I found it just as it stopped.
“Damn.”
“Well aren’t you going to ring back?” Tal queried.
Of course i recognised the number, “er later.”
“It’ll be Max,” de Vreen espoused.
“Might be,” I allowed with a blush.
Gret snatched my Handy from my grip.
“Hey!”
Her fingers were like lightning, a moment later I could here the phone ringing out, “there.”
“Hmmph!” I managed before grabbing it back and scrambling through to the bedroom.
“What’s up?”
“I love you too,” my beau offered.
“All that stuff likewise, so?”
There was a sigh at the other end of the airwaves, “so how’d you get on?”
The boy’s learning. “well it was close but I got the better of Cav and a hundred euros.”
“That’s good right?”
“Yes that's good,” I allowed with my own sigh, “so why the call, we’re still on the way home.”
“What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? Dunno, hadn’t given it much thought.”
“You fancy going to Moselfest?”
“Don’t be daft, you have to buy tickets like months ago and they cost an arm and both legs.”
“Seriously.”
“Really? Its a bit short notice.”
“You want to go or what?”
Do I? Its one of those things you talk about but with one thing and another never get around to doing, especially with my racing and now the kiosk.
“How’d you get tickets?”
“Soph.”
“As in your cousin, lives in Stuttgart, Sophia?”
“The same, they just turned up in the post this morning.”
“And you’ve only just called?”
“You were racing earlier and then you didn’t answer the first two times I called, so, you want to go?”
Bum, back foot or what.
“Wouldn’t mind, need to clear it with the olds.”
“There’s four tickets, you think any of your girl friends would want the spares?”
“Con’ll be working, and Nen, dunno about the others, hang on, how we getting there, isn’t it down Cochem way?”
“Mum said she’d take us in the Porsche.”
“Er right, look I’m in, when do you need to know the others?”
“Soon as I guess.”
“I’ll call you back.”
“Love you.”
“And that stuff,” I allowed before ending the call, an idea bubbling in my head.
“I think we spawned a monster,” Jules opined.
“Regular Jekyll & Hyde our Gabs,” Mand agreed.
“What are you two rattling about?” I queried, turning from the mirror.
“By day, a mild mannered schoolgirl, by night a bitchin’ rock diva,” Jules announced in fair imitation of one of those film announcers.
“Huh! you’re only jealous.”
“Not many,” my sister admitted, “we were supposed to be going with Gretch and Jo but we got caught in that ticket scam.”
“Bummer,” Mand noted.
“You never said?”
“Nothing to say, you borrowing the boots?”
“The forecast is dry,” I mentioned.
“Wear ‘em Gab,” Mand instructed, “you’ll look one hot momma for Max.”
That got another snigger from my sister.
“She hasn’t twigged?”
“Don’t think so hen,” Josh advised.
“We’ll be there in,” I looked at Max for the information which he mouthed back, “thirty minutes, be at that bus stop right?”
“We’ll be there like, gotta go, she’s just coming down now.”
“Later.”
I ended the call and stowed my Handy.
“Everything okay?” Gloria asked.
“All set,” I confirmed making myself comfortable again.
When I suggested it to Josh he was straight with it, the thought of a day doing the tourist thing around Koblenz wasn’t exactly filling him with glee even if he would be with Tal. And Max was remarkably happy with the idea, maybe the thought of being the token male in a hen party wasn’t filling him with joy either, at least with Josh along we’d be in couples. Although that hadn’t been my main consideration it had occurred to me that I’d get some quality Max time in today, more than a dinner invite would allow for sure and without any of the girls playing gooseberry.
“The first bus isn’t for hours,” Tal complained checking the timetable.
“There should be one along shortly,” Josh told his girlfriend.
“There’s nothing on the timetable,” she stated.
“Its not on there, its like a special,” he proposed scanning the road for sight of the Porsche off roader Gab said she’d be in, this could all go to pot fast.
“Special?”
“Er yeah, it only runs summer Sundays like,” the Tynesider hedged.
“Need a lift?” a familiar voice enquired.
He’d missed the four by fours arrival and nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Gab? What are you doing here?” Tal queried.
“This isn’t the way to Koblenz,” Tal observed.
“Isn’t it?” I mild offered.
I could see Gloria’s shoulders going in the front.
“Why should we be going to Koblenz?” Max enquired.
“Josh Waugh, what’s going on,” Tali cautiously enquired.
“Thanks mum,” Max allowed as we unloaded an hour later, still a bit of a walk from the festival site but as close as we’d get in the car.
“You sure you’ll be alright getting the Bahn back?”
“They’re putting extra trains on from Bullay, if it looks like we’re gonna be stuck we’ll call.”
“Dad said he’ll fetch us if need be,” I offered.
“Well have a good time and be safe.”
“We will,” Max told her before shutting the door.
Of course we’d had the lecture on the way down to Neuwied, it was kinda essential teenage parenting lecture number twelve, don’t do this, don’t do that – well you know the stuff. We joined the good natured, shuffling bodies heading across the Mosel to Neef and the festival site occupying a loop of the river. It was only ten but there were already the first strains of music drifting across the water.
“Better than the museum in Koblenz eh?” I suggested as we queued to get in.
“I feel a bit under dressed,” Tal told me.
“You’re fine, I’m the odd one with all this clobber on.”
“Nah Gab, you fit right in, I did wonder why you were dressed up like Nena Hagen when we got in the car.”
“My sister,” I sighed, “every time I go to a concert she dresses me like a Barbie® doll.”
“The bunches are maybe a bit much,” she snorted.
“There a joke?” Josh enquired.
“Nope.”
We shuffled forward, the gate staff efficiently scanning tickets and moving people through into the site, no mean feat with like tens of thousands of music fans coming. Our turn came and I have to admit to breathing a sigh of relief when our tickets scanned no problem and we were admitted to the inner sanctum of Moselfest.
So unlike some music events where there are multiple stages, here the music is mostly restricted to the main arena. There are a couple of smaller stages outside but mostly its food and trinket stalls, stuff for the kinder, you know, like face painting and kiddy rides. According to the programme I snagged, the main stage wouldn’t get going until later so we started out by exploring the commercial opportunities.
“You should so get them Gab,” Tal encouraged.
I checked my reflection again, “they’re a bit big.”
“That’s what makes them cool,” she told me.
To be fair I was quite taken with them, the ohring that is, quite a way from my usual little studs or simple rings.
“Go on then, you getting the choker?”
“Josh? Am I getting this?”
He sighed and passed her a twenty euro note.
“I think that's a yes,” she beamed.
I got a bit distracted by the unaccustomed weight of the dangling fish bones swinging from my ears, enough that I wasn’t following the conversation.
“We should use the facilities before we go in the arena,” Tal suggested.
“Er right,” I agreed.
“We’ll grab some drinks,” Max volunteered.
“Würst?” I proposed.
“I don’t know where you put it girl,” Josh mentioned with a roll of eyes.
“In these boots, you don’t think they got this size on their own do you?”
“Come on Gab, lets find the lavs.”
“I think they’re down that way,” Max volunteered pointing across the field to where I could just see a host of blue Toi Toi’s.
“See you in a bit,” I told the lads before hurrying after an already departed Tali.
Maddy Bell © 9.11.2017
It wasn’t too late when we got back to Dernau, even stopping off at Neuwied had only added a few minutes to the journey.
“Looks like Jules is still here,” I mentioned as we pulled onto the drive.
“How’d you work that out?” Dad queried.
“Well unless I’m mistaken, they’re her undies on the line.”
Mand snorted and it was Dad’s turn to blush when he automatically looked at the washing blowing about in the breeze.
“Er right,” he mumbled, “get the kettle on eh?”
“That was cruel Gab’s,” Mand opined as made our way into Schloss Bond.
“Good though.”
“Its a good job we were already parked.”
“Something smells good.”
“Coconut?”
We dumped our race kit in the laundry and made our way upstairs to investigate the enticing aromas.
“What’s cooking,” I enquired poking my head into the kitchen.
“Best ask your sister,” Mum advised.
“Chicken korma, beef madras and sag aloo,” the dark one supplied.
“Whoa,” Mand stated.
“Bhaji’s, naan bread?”
“We’re getting the works kiddo,” Mum supplied as she filled the kettle.
“What’s the occasion,” Mand ventured.
“Er nothing,” my sister hedged, “just thought we could do with a change from schnitzel.”
“You two, shower and change, I’ll sort your Dad’s tea,” Mum instructed, “and something decent please.”
“She’s after something,” I whispered as we headed upstairs.
“But what and from who?” Mand posed.
“Bum, the washing.”
“I’ll do it,” Mand volunteered.
“Cheers, see you in a bit.”
I stomped up to my eyrie and was quickly in the shower. I wasn’t too stinky, a strip wash after the race meant we were passable in polite company for the post race nosh. It having stayed dry for a change its not like we were caked in mud and stuff and the campers shower is a challenge to use.
Goodness knows why Mum wanted us dressed up but no point in winding her up so I found fresh undies and a summer frock, something curry proof! There wasn’t really time to dry my hair so I put it up into a bun – I’ll tame it properly later. I padded downstairs, Mand had somehow beaten me so I proceeded down to the ground floor.
“Get something on your feet,” Mum told me, “then you can give me a hand with this lot.”
“Where’s Jules,” I asked as I rescued a battered pair of sandals from the cloakroom.
“Changing.”
“What’s going on? Changing for dinner, really?”
“Keep it down, we’ve got company.”
I lowered my voice to answer, “company? Who?”
“The Appelroth’s.”
“The who?”
“Boris and his parents.”
“Ah,” I allowed, “peace talks I guess.”
“Something like that,” Mum agreed before plonking the warming tray into my hands, “ask your Dad to light it please.”
I could do it but I guess Mum’s mindful of last time when I set the tablecloth alight, anyone coulda done the same.
“How long?” Dad enquired as he lit the tea lights under the tray.
“Think we’re just waiting for Jules, they on the deck?”
“Talking with Manda, could you fetch that half crate of Krombacher up, curry deserves a brew eh?”
“If you say so,” personally I prefer lemonade with mine but i’m probably in a minority of one in this house.
I returned to the kitchen where Jules having returned all tarted up, was now back in control of the food.
“Dad wants beer.”
“I’ll get it,” Mum announced, “take the plates through kidda.”
Yes Mum.
“Hold the door Gab,” Jules requested following me with a tureen of homemade pilau rice.
A good Indian meal is something of a British institution, just about everywhere has a curry house there where you can indulge in a vindaloo or something a bit milder. Oh there are restaurants here but even the simplest UK one runs a more extensive menu than the best in Bonn or Köln so the German palate isn’t so refined in its enjoyment of a nice pakora or fluffy peshwari naan. This was telegraphed by the looks on Boris’ parents faces as the table was loaded with spicy goodness – maybe not the best choice Jules?
“Dig in everyone,” Mum suggested, “there’s pilau and plain rice, you’ve got chicken Korma this end, beef Madras in the middle and potato Sag nearest Boris. Pass the Bhajis round Gab.”
Not before I claim a couple! You won’t get them like this in the restaurants that's for sure, crispy balls of deep fried onion, not the mushy things so often passed off in these parts. Experienced curry eaters were soon loading plates with the results of Jules labours, Jan and Susannah obediently took bhajis from the plate but otherwise looked a bit bewildered.
“T art,” Dad advised, “is to have a little of each, you don’t get that option in most restaurants, a full bowl of Madras can be a bit daunting, oh the beer.”
“I’ll get it Herr Bond,” Boris volunteered.
“I’ll get the glasses,” Jules added following him out.
“Well it all looks very nice,” Susannah mentioned.
“Juliette’s been working on it all afternoon,” Mum put in.
“She cooked us, what did she call it,” Jan thought a moment, “that’s it, a full roast a few weeks back, quite the cook.”
“Gaby’s the cook in the family,” Dad inserted.
“It was either learn or starve,” I added.
“Jan was just saying you did them a roast?” Mum prompted Jules as the beer and glasses arrived.
“The Yorkshires were a bit flat,” she admitted.
“Hey maybe we shoulda had Yorkshires with this,” I suggested – I reckon that’d work quite well.
“Gab, that's disgusting!” Mand opined.
The rest of the meal went quite well, I’m not sure Susannah was that enamoured with the eating style, you know, fingers, messy or with the Madras but hot isn’t to everyone's taste I guess. Without guests I might’ve loaded my plate a bit more but I suppose I sort of should appear to be a bit more ladylike in company. Eventually though the eating ceased and a conversation about Jules cooking prowess started.
“Anyone for coffee?” I offered.
“Please,” Frau Appelroth smiled gratefully.
“Might as well make a pot Gab,” Dad suggested.
“’kay,” I agreed getting up from my seat, “Mand.”
“Eh, oh right, I’ll er give you a hand.”
“What's going on?” Mand enquired.
“Peace talks?” I suggested.
“Boris and Jules hardly look like their fighting.”
I was mindful of what Dad told me yesterday, about not shooting my mouth off, “think there’s some stuff they need to sort out about Uni.”
“Oh right,”
“You want to get the cups out?”
And so after delivering the coffee and removing the detritus of the meal to the dishwasher we left them to it and reconvened in the eyrie.
“Hope we don’t have many races that long.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Not for you maybe, some of us are mere mortals though.”
I shrugged, “it was pretty close at the finish.”
“You still won though,” she pointed out.
“If it had been a couple of hundred more...”
“Whatever, I hope this thing in Spain’s not as hard.”
“Well all the National squads will be in Switzerland.”
“Where we should be,” she interrupted.
“That's as maybe but it does mean the racing should be easier.”
“Hope so.”
To be honest so do I but given some of the riders on the GB ‘B’ squad its not gonna be a cakewalk.
It was after ten before we heard car doors and an engine start up announcing the Appelroth’s imminent departure. We looked at each other, grabbed our cups and set off for lower altitudes and information.
“So,” I enquired casually, “everything sorted?”
“If you mean am I going back to Bonn, Mum’s taking me tomorrow,” Jules told us.
“Well that's good right?”
“Ish.”
“Later Gabs,” Dad suggested, “bed perhaps?”
“I was gonna watch the film.”
There isn’t much worth watching on Saturday night TV and to be honest I didn’t really want to watch Rocky Three again.
“Its been on before,” Mum pointed out, “and there’s a DVD here somewhere too.”
“Come on Gabs, its been a long day,” Mand took the hint that I was missing but I did find myself yawning.
“’kay, see you in the morning, good curry by the way Sis.”
“You ate enough to know.”
“I thought I was quite restrained.”
“Next to a hippo.”
“Goodnight Gabs,” Mum prompted.
“Nite everyone,” Mand advised.
“Er yeah, g’night,” I added before kissing my parents.
“Nite kiddo,” Dad returned.
“See you in the morning love, oh and congrats on winning, sorry we got a bit side tracked this evening,” Mum told me.
“’s’all right, all in a good cause, nite.”
I lay in bed staring out of the Dormer, unable to shut my mind off and get into sleep mode. Instead I was listening through the silence to the conversation two floors below. Well not actually listening, I couldn’t hear what was being said or really identify the speakers, no it was more a low hum with one or two instances of raised voice – I’m guessing that was Jules.
It was probably midnight before I realised it had gone quiet, I must’ve dropped off at some point.
Maddy Bell © 10.11.2017
"It was good of your cousin to send us the tickets.”
"I told you before she’s not my cousin, she’s Max’s,” I repeated.
"Same difference, talking of which, where are the lads?”
"Dunno,” I admitted as I dodged a small child dressed as Wonder Woman, I couldn’t swear but I think it was a boy.
"Best text them, they’ll never find us in this lot, where shall I say?”
"By the lavs? Bum, you seen the queue Tal?”
"Just as well we’re not desperate eh?” she scoffed.
Speak for yourself girl, I think I need a cork, we joined the back of the snaking queue for the facilities – how come they never have enough ladies loos anywhere, you’d think by now they’d have learnt. I suppose we can be thankful that it’s dry; a wet music festival isn’t a lot of fun whatever anyone says. Last year’s Moselfest even made the national news when it turned into a king size mud bath.
The queue shuffled along, I followed along sort of humming along to the band playing the main stage somewhere behind us. There was a chime as someone’s Handy received a message.
“’Bout time,” Tal muttered, "Daft sod, you want Grünkohl, Gabs?”
"Grünkohl?” I queried.
"Apparently there’s a stall,” she shrugged.
Why not I guess, "Go on then, we’ll need food by the time we’ve waited here all day.”
Tal quickly tapped out her reply and I returned my attention to the music and people watching, rocking to the beats as I hummed along.
The pair of us emerged from the already smelly portaloos at almost the same moment, next job; find the lads and our food. A riverside meadow is no place for heels so I've borrowed my sisters ‘Goth boots’ which give me a few extra centimetres but let’s not make bones about it, I'm a short arse. In a crowd, well I spend a lot of time looking at peoples’ backs.
"You see ‘em?”
"Think so, come on.”
We pushed our way through the bodies and sure enough the twin towers of Josh and Max were deep in conversation next to a pile of straw bales.
"There you are,” Tal pointed out er pointlessly.
Josh started, nearly dropping the floppy plastic bier glass he was gripping.
"Shit, Tal, you made me jump!”
"I hope there’s some of that for us?” I enquired.
"Erm,” Max managed.
"Don’t worry,” I went on, "We can share.”
"It’s Dunkel,” he advised.
"As long as it’s wet, where’s this Grünkohl?”
"Don’t spill that,” Max instructed.
"Gabs spill food,” Tal scoffed, “more likely see a flying pig!”
"Er Tal, luv,” Josh pointed towards the main arena.
I almost fell from my lofty perch, well Max’s shoulders, there were indeed several inflatable pink porcines drifting above the crowd.
"That where we’re headed?” Tal queried from ground level.
"Yeah,” I agreed before shovelling another fork load of Grünkohl and Mettwurst into my maw.
Its years since I last got a piggy back from Dad, I was probably about six, I'd forgotten how good a vantage point it gives. It was actually Max’s idea; I think I've been complaining about the view a bit much today. Anyhow we drifted towards the main arena; it’s easier when you can see where you are heading.
Of course it was already well rammed with festival goers so we didn’t get more than a few metres inside; the view of the stage, even from my elevated position was crap.
"Well at least we’ll be able to hear them,” Tal suggested.
"Great,” I moaned.
"Erdbeere!”
"They think its Wimbledon like?” Josh queried.
"You what?” I asked.
"Some guy just shouted out for strawberries.”
"Erdbeere!”
I heard it this time and recognised the voice.
"I don’t think he’s offering fruit,” I sighed, "Stefan,” I called back.
"Thought it was you,” the Blau Hase frontman opined across the crowd between us, "Your man here?”
"Sitting on him, still can’t see anything,” I complained.
"Reckon we can do something about that,” he suggested pushing his way towards us.
"Really?”
"I've got some backstage passes you can have; strangely everyone wants to be out front for Quo.”
"We’re with friends,” I sighed – how cool backstage passes for the Quo would be.
"Go on, Gab, we’re okay,” Tal put in.
"Just the two?” Stefan asked.
"Yeah,” Max agreed from between my knees.
"All of you, come on,” Stefan suggested heading back out of the arena area.
It was quieter outside now so I returned to terra firma as Stefan led the way around the enclosure at a fast clip.
"Where’re we going, Stef?”
"The best seats in the house, Erdbeere.”
I looked at Tal and shrugged.
"Who is he?” she whispered.
"Singer with Blau Hase.”
"That band you sing with?”
"Only once,” I pointed out.
"Twice,” Max corrected.
"Whatever.”
"So what’s with calling you, strawberry?” Josh queried joining in our whispery discussion.
"Hair?” I suggested as explanation.
He looked at me in confusion for a moment before it clicked, “Oh right.”
We were somewhere back of the stage area now, Stefan leading us to the access point.
"Hi, Johann.”
"Who you got here, Stefan?” the hired meat controlling access enquired.
“My singer and her people, they got lost out front.”
"The one you were telling me about?”
"The same,” Stefan replied, "Johann, meet Erdbeere, Erd, my mate Johann,” he works security at all the big venues.”
"Er hi,” I allowed.
"Don’t suppose you’ve got your passes?” the man mountain asked.
"Sorry, left them inside,” Tali quickly filled, "Didn’t think we needed them in the arena.”
"The headliners, we’ve got more security than usual today, look forward to hearing you later, Erdbeere.”
"Er yeah.”
He ushered us through and Stef led us through to the ‘green room’, well marquee really.
"Look who I found,” he told the rest of the band.
"Erdbeere!” Animal greeted.
"So we got to watch Quo from the side of the stage,” I told my audience.
"Oh come on, Gab, tell them the whole story,” Tal prompted.
"There’s more?” Sally asked.
"Oh yeah,” Tali crowed, "Go on, Gab, tell ‘em.”
Like I've got any choice now, Thalia Schmidt!
"Whatever,” I sighed, "So...”
What could I say, Stefan had got us all back stage, into the ‘green room’ no less with its free beer and food, no wasn’t a realistic option.
"It’s only a short set,” Big Jo advised.
"So you up for it?” Marcus queried.
"I guess,” I replied with more certainty in my voice than I felt.
"Great!” Stefan enthused, "Best go over the set list for our singer.”
"Where you bin hen?” Josh enquired when I re-joined the others who were already in the backstage side stage area (which was actually in front of the stage separated from the great unwashed by a double fence of steel barriers.)
"Getting ready to pay for this.”
"What are you on about?” Tal pushed, "You’ve gone a bit over the top with the slap.”
"Again?” Max asked in turn.
"Again? What’s he on about, girl?” Schmidt prompted.
I took a deep breath, "You know about Bonn, right?”
"Yeah,” she cautiously allowed.
"Well, take two.”
"Take two?” Josh queried.
"She’s singing again,” Max answered for me.
"No shit!” Tali stated.
"Nervous?” Animal asked as we waited for the stage crew to set up the Blau Hase gear after the loud and tuneless Punk band ahead of us came off.
"You could say that.”
"You need a drink?” he offered.
"Best not.”
"Looks like us,” Big Jo mentioned from behind us.
‘And now, all the way from Bonn,’ the chap doing the intros paused as the some of the crowd chuckled, ‘local favourites, BLAUHASE!’
There was a loud answering cheer; the waiting is over – well almost.
The others jogged onto the stage and went straight into their self-penned number Sauerkraut. I waited for my cue almost wetting my knickers, this is no seedy backstreet venue with a hundred drunks, this is Moselfest with twenty thousand music fans expecting to be properly entertained.
Little Jo gave the agreed signal and I took a deep breath before clumping out onto the stage. I headed to ‘my’ microphone a couple of metres from Stefan and joined in with the last verse of Sauerkraut, a song about lost love rather than pickled cabbage.
"Hello Neef!” Stefan called out as we caught our breath.
There was the expected cheer back before he went on.
"I know you’re all waiting for the Status Quo but we hope to entertain you while you wait, so I'd like you to welcome the newest addition to the Blau Hase line up, Gaby Erdbeere!”
I gave a wave as the crowd shouted back. I'm not sure what I was feeling other than petrified. If my legs hadn’t been firmly planted in my sister’s heavy Goth boots I'm sure my knees would’ve been knocking big style.
"You might know the next number,” Stefan suggested to our audience before stepping back to Little Jo’s mic.
I unclipped my own microphone and nervously moved to the front of the stage, the first few chords sounded across the arena and the crowd quieted, I took a breath and started to sing.
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality
Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor girl, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go, little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me, to meeee
And so we started our rendition of Queen’s infamous Bohemian Rhapsody.
We followed Bo Rhap with Run to the hills then I got a break through another Blau Hase original, a noisy ditty with the title of The Battle of Düren. The crowd either liked it or were glad it was over, I'm not sure which but my return front and centre seemed to calm things down. With the others providing the music Stefan started our penultimate number.
Lena?
Nee, heute nicht Lena, sondern Gaby!
Augenringe erzählen die Nacht
Fremdes Hotel, bist fröstelnd aufgewacht
Mit nem Gewisse, das dich ständig beißt
Oh, du fehlst mir so
… Nena, wie ‘n klarer warmer Wind
Wenn die Tage stürmisch sind
Lass ich mich zu dir trieben
Seelen aneinander reiben!
Lena got a reasonable response and we went straight into the final number of the set, 99 Luftballons.
Von 99 Luftballons auf ihrem Weg zum Horizont
Hielt man für Ufos aus dem All
Darum schickte ein General ‘ne Fliegerstaffel hinterher
Alarm zu Geben, wenn’s so wär
Dabei war’n dort am Horizont
Nur 99 Luftballons
The crowd were joining in by the second verse and some five minutes later I finished my vocal. It’s Germany; Red Balloons is almost the popular alternative to Deutschland Uber Alles! There was a slight pause before the paying customers started cheering, whistling and Gott knows what else in appreciation.
"Thank you, Moselfest,” Stefan yelled out, "We have been Blau Hase!”
We departed the stage, the crowd still offering verbal appreciation of our thirty minute set.
"Gurgh!” I managed as I slumped into a seat in the green room.
"Here,” Max having followed me through quickly plonked a bottle of something cold in my hand.
"Cheers,” I took a slug without looking, nearly choking as the bier frothed in my mouth.
"Well done, girl,” someone offered.
I waved my bottle in reply.
"We smashed it, eh?” Animal proposed.
"Thanks to Erdbeere here,” Stefan suggested joining us.
"I only sang, you guys were playing,” I protested.
"Well you can ‘only sing’ with us anytime,” Big Jo stated.
I started to colour up, "I er need the loo.”
The backstage lavs are somewhat nicer than the public portaloos, cleaner for sure.
"Here, you need to re do,” Tal told me handing me my mini backpack that was serving as my Handtasche.
"Thanks.”
"When you said you sang with them before I wasn’t expecting that.”
"That?”
"The whole rock chick thing, you can really sing, girl.”
"Er thanks,” I allowed washing my face, "Don’t you dare tell Mum or Dad.”
"Why not?”
"Just because—okay.”
"Whatever, anyhow hurry up, the Quo will be starting.”
I just made it to the backstage side stage area before the top of the bill, world famous Status Quo took to the stage, the same stage that thirty minutes ago I was singing on with my band. My band, where did that come from? I borrowed Max’s drink and took a swig before cuddling into his side. They were a couple of numbers into their set before something clicked from earlier, that ‘well done girl’ in the green room was only from Francis Rossi!
"You’re kidding,” Claire suggested after I concluded the tale.
"Nope, straight up,” I told her allowing myself a slight grin; yeah it was quite a day.
“Reckon your dad is sending us up every valley off the Rhein,” Lor opined as we rode piano along the Sayntal towards Isenburg.
“Could be worse, we could be doing repeats up that dead end,” I countered.
“Wasn’t complaining,” she quickly mentioned.
In truth these long, river chasing climbs can be a bit of a drag but Dad thinks they’ll help in Spain in a couple of weeks.
“Change!” Tal as road captain called out.
You know the score, Lor and me moved sidewise allowing Sal and Gret to move to the lead, we in turn filtered back to the rear. With seven of us there was always going to be an odd one on the back so instead of rejoining with Laura, I pulled in next to Claire. Yeah Dad’s got us split in two groups by gender which I don’t mind too much, the lads usually want to talk about boring stuff like gears or football, at least we get more sensible conversation without them.
“Mand says your going on holiday next week,” Claire prompted.
“Sort of,” I agreed.
“Sort of?”
“Some girls from school are going camping.”
“In tents?”
“I think that's the idea,” I agreed.
“Recht!” Gret called out, almost as one we moved to avoid the pothole or whatever.
“Your Dad hasn’t said anything about not being here.”
“Probably cos he will be.”
“You’re going on your own?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “its not like I’ll be alone is it?”
“Aren’t there any adults going?”
“Depends how you define adult, Anna’s seventeen, I think one of her friends is like eighteen.”
“My parents would never let me go without someone's parents being there.”
“I guess its kind of normal here.”
“Any boys going?”
“Course not, why would we want boys along?”
“Well I guess you do have a boyfriend but while the cats away,” she hinted.
“Its not that sort of trip,” I replied to cover my sudden fluster.
Or is it? To be honest everyone's been espousing the no rules, no timetable stuff, free swimming at the camp site, maybe a bit of partying without parental restrictions but is there more that’s gone unsaid? In theory I’m not against some random snogging if there are any lads around but are the others going with higher expectations?
A toot from Caro in the minibus behind put us on the right road in Isenburg, leaving the B road behind and joining a smaller road as we continued up through the trees that give the Westerwald its name.
“You going on holiday this year?”
“Apart from being here for the summer?”
“You know what I mean, something without bikes.”
“The rest of the family went to Greece a couple of weeks ago, Dad was talking about Florida at half term.”
“Nice, any occasion?”
“Libby’s birthday, she’s ten in November.”
“I think I went to the flicks.”
“Tell me about it, I got a new dress but she’s dad’s little angel and I guess they have supported my racing for a few years, going to races, buying bike stuff and all that.”
“When you put it like that,” I agreed.
The valleys across the river aren’t exactly straight but they twist about in a lazy way amid vineyards and farms. On this side you’re lucky if there’s two hundred metres without a turn, little sign of life other than a shooting tower where the trees meet the few bits of riverside meadow. In fact nearly ten kilometres and two more changes passed before the next village after which it opened out but the trees were never far away.
“Easy Gab,” Tal called up.
I checked my speed, I’d been guilty of coming through faster instead of just maintaining current speed.
“Soz,” I called back as Claire settled back alongside me.
You couldn’t call our ascent so far steep but as we approached the A3 autobahn the road levelled and lost the tiny twists and turns as we rode between fields of corn and meadows populated with equines. At Selters we changed direction and picked up the road down to Montabaur across the more populated and rolling countryside of the Siegen plain. I was now alongside Mand in our train as we took the opportunity to take on board some calories now we were on a wider road.
We re-crossed the autobahn as well as the new ICE1 line shortly before entering Montabaur. Things got a little messy as we transited the town but we successfully navigated to the B49, the road back to the Rhein. Caro came alongside on the first stretch of dual carriageway.
“Okay ladies, time to pick things up, in pairs, twenty second sprints, three sets.”
“Urgh,” someone complained.
I agreed the sentiment, these sessions are well knackering.
“I can make it four Laura,” Caro hinted.
“Er no, three’s fine,” Lo answered.
“Okay, Gabs, you’re on your own for this.”
Joy.
With our numbers it meant that in theory at least we had a minute between efforts, sprint, rest, sprint, rest, sprint, rest – all over in five minutes which was okay as far as it goes but Caro then had everyone do a set solo before we got a breather. The road was going generally downwards through more trees and our abuser ‘suggested’ we pick up the pace a bit from a steady thirty K to something closer to forty. So of course we then had to do the sprint from the back thing around the Neuhäusel bypass.
“Right, free for all to the Horchheim sign, we’ll reconvene at the Aral garage okay?”
“By the traffic lights?” I confirmed.
“You’ve got it, now be careful, go.”
Its a wide road all the way down to Koblenz, no sharp turns, some of the ramps are fairly steep, there’s overtaking restrictions in a couple of places but on a bike, on a warm dry evening in midsummer with little traffic about – well wheeeee, ten kilometres of fun! Mand was first away, hotly pursued by Sal, they got a couple of tens of metres away and hovered there for a bit before Gret had a bash and dragged the rest of us up to them. And so it continued for the next four or five kilometres.
I bade my time, not using too much energy to keep with the others, even amongst the girls I’m still the littlest so I get maximum shelter which just about offsets any mass I’m giving away. I checked which sprocket I was in, just one more to go, the computer was showing us to be hovering just over fifty K – well its worth a go. Snick, the shift was almost soundless but the whoosh of my tyres as I accelerated past the others sounded like a klaxon.
There was enough gradient for me to carry the extra speed further than I thought before I got into a tuck – well they’ll either catch me or not. The readout showed increasing speed, fifty nine, sixty, sixty one – oh I know it doesn’t sound much but on a bike, gripping the road with two square centimetres of rubber its quite exciting. Ahead I could see the end of the trees and the road starting to tilt more steeply.
Pedalling was doing nothing extra now so I reduced my effort to a slower rotation just for the gyroscopic effect. Sixty five, seven, eight, seventy one – yee-ha, I picked my line and let the bike run, one thing you don’t want to do is make any sudden changes to direction at this speed. And then things got exciting.
One second I was picking my line through the sweeping left hander, the next I was in trouble as the bike started to shimmy. If you’ve never been in this situation you won’t fully appreciate what starts going through your mind. Oh I’ve had it before once or twice, a bit of a wobble, hold tight, slow up and its over but I’m doing over seventy kph and this is no longer a little wobble.
I need to lose speed but touch the brakes and I’ll be off quicker than a quick thing, I grabbed the bars tightly as the bike started to kick about more violently. I wanted to close my eyes but I still need to see where I’m headed. At one point I thought it was all over, I was still going forward quickly but the front wheel wasn’t pointing forward, first one way then the other, this is going to be messy.
My mind was closed to everything beyond just holding on. It might’ve been a lessening of the gradient or just my gentle feathering of the back brake but whatever it was, the bike was wobbling less. I dared to imagine I’d live through the experience, relaxing the tension I hadn’t realised I was holding in my body as I slowed back below seventy, below sixty.
The bike was still doing a bit of a boogie even as I freewheeled down below fifty, using my body as an air brake. Phew, I DO NOT want to repeat that, ever! I turned the pedals again and the remaining wobbling declined, disappeared just as I passed the yellow board announcing my entry into Horchheim.
As I rolled down to the filling station my mind was telling me I should be wetting myself, shaking like a leaf, my ticker pounding like a hammer in my chest. But weirdly there was none of that, a strange calm if anything, my brain cells seemingly more interested in what caused the incident and just how I managed to emerge intact. I didn’t dwell on the latter long, just the fact I had was enough for my curiosity!
I pulled onto the forecourt thinking a stiff drink would be nice right about now, of course that wasn’t going to happen so once I had feet on terra firma I took a long drag on my bidon.
“Where’d you get to?” Tal asked a couple of minutes later as she joined me ahead of the rest of the flock.
“I used the BSB.”
“BSB?”
“Bond Super Boost,” I advised.
“That was some descent,” Sal put in joining us, “I got sixty five on that steep bit.”
“Seventy,” Mand cheerfully added.
“Same here,” Tal admitted.
“What’d you get Gabs?”
“Dunno.”
“Well look then,” Lor encouraged.
I sort of didn’t want to know but Gret leant over and cycled through the readouts before taking a deep breath, “eighty five.”
“How much?” Claire queried.
Yep, that coulda been very messy indeed.
It was a bit of a 3D puzzle getting seven bikes and their riders in the minibus for the drive back to the BC house but we managed it. The original plan was for us to ride all the way but that would take another hour and wouldn’t do anything but add length to our session.
“You're looking very thoughtful kiddo,” Dad suggested as we crossed the Rhein on the way home.
“Just thinking about something earlier.”
“Oh?”
Did I want to share the experience? They say a trouble shared is halved but does that apply in this case?
“I er had a bit of an incident dropping down to Koblenz.”
“What sort of incident?” he queried.
“Some speed wobble.”
“It happens,” he allowed.
“This was like a mega wobble Dad, I thought I was gonna crash, messily.”
“Do I want to hear more?”
“I was doing like eighty five K.”
“Yep, messy yet here you are in one piece.”
“I don’t know how Dad, I didn’t know what to do.”
“Sometimes you out run the wobble, losing speed carefully is usually good, is the bike okay?”
“Seems to be, it was bucking about all over mind.”
“I’ll give it a good going over anyhow, put your mind at rest.”
“I’d be happier if I knew what caused it.”
“Could be anything,” he posed, “road surface, passing truck, gust of wind.”
“Caused what?” de Vreen sleepily queried from behind us.
Maddy Bell © 13.11.2017
“Nanna?”
“Juliette?”
“No Nanna its Gaby,” I corrected.
“Oh hullo dear, is your father about?”
“Down in the garage I think, i’ll just shout him.”
I put the phone down and clattered downstairs and pushed the door open, “Dad? Nanna’s on the phone.”
I couldn’t see him but I got an answer, “okay, be right up.”
I dashed back upstairs and grabbed the phone, “he’s just coming.”
“Thanks love, how are you?”
“Okay I guess, busy as usual.”
“Just like your mum.”
Dad arrived at that moment preventing more awkward conversation, “ Dad’s here now, bye Nanna.”
“Bye Gabrielle.”
I passed Dad the receiver and returned to the lounge.
Nanna Sarah is Paters mum, we’ve never really seen her or Gramps that much, not really sure why – well since we’ve moved its obvious but not when they were only a few hours away in Somerset. I don’t think it was a falling out or anything but Uncle Sam and Aunt Kath are both a fair bit younger than Dad, like ten years or so, Dad left home before his siblings were even in secondary school. And whilst Gramps is just like an older version of Dad, Nanna is always putting on false airs and insists on using our full names all the time.
“I’d forgotten about next week,” Dad allowed joining us in the living room.
“What's that love?” Mum asked.
“The Bond clan trip to Germany.”
“There’s something on the kitchen calendar,” I opined.
“When do they come?” Mum asked.
“Kath’s lot arrive Saturday, Mum and Dad are coming with Sam on Sunday, they’ve hired a minibus.”
“They’re not all staying here are they?”
“Don’t be daft Gab, where we put a dozen people? they’re renting some cottages near Adenauer,” Mum told us.
“Thirteen,” Dad noted.
“Oh I forgot about Kath’s youngest,” Mum admitted.
“That’s a lot of relatives,” Manda observed.
“There’s seven kids,” Dad told her, “the oldest will be what, ten?”
“Next birthday,” Mater told us.
Mand giggled, “oo, a right nest of sprogs.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“I’m guessing we’re having them over at some point?” Mum enquired.
“Mum suggested Tuesday.”
“All of them here?” I gasped.
“Well its either that or book the Stube, they are coming to see us,” Dad noted.
“That means cooking,” I groaned.
“We could have a barbecue,” Mum suggested.
“I could borrow Hen’s gas one,” Dad agreed.
“Settled, I’ll order the meat tomorrow,” Mum volunteered.
“So what are they like?” Mand enquired as we sorted out the hot chocolate a bit later.
I shrugged, “dunno really, not seen any of them for ages, some of the littlies have been born since we moved out here.”
“Seven cousins, you’re lucky, I’ve just got one and he’s a right arse.”
“Not sure ‘lucky’ is the word I’d use.”
“So they alright with you being, you know, Gaby?”
“Tough if they’re not,” I told her, “Nanna was a bit off at first, I’ve not seen any of them since, you know, so I guess we’ll find out next week.”
"Should be interesting."
“Yeah,” I sighed, “bring the biccies.”
“So this is your fathers family?” Con queried.
“Yeah,” I confirmed with a sigh, “not seen any of them for years.”
“That’ll be interesting,” my BF suggested.
“No kidding, all those sprogs.”
“Seven you said?”
“Yeah, Uncle Sam’s got three boys, Aunt Kath has got all girls.”
“Weird.”
“I couldn’t even tell you their names,” I admitted.
“Bet they know yours,” she stated.
“I guess I have been on the telly and stuff a bit.”
“They’ll probably be excited to meet their famous cousin.”
“Or not.”
“Oh come on Gab, don’t be like that, you should be excited to see them.”
I sighed, “I suppose, I just know what Nanna can be like.”
“Oo, do tell.”
“Really?”
“She can’t be that bad,” she posited.
“Mum calls her the Duchess.”
“The Duchess? Whatever for?”
“Their house is like a museum, no that's not right, everything has to be just so, no mess, china tea cups, she won’t even have duvets. She and Mum don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
“And this is like a Duchess?”
“Not the ones I know,” I agreed.
“She’d probably have kittens to meet the real thing.”
“Yeah, maybe I should invite Max to the barbecue.”
“Have to wear your tiara,” she chuckled.
“And a long frock,” I added.
“You two working or what?” Kris queried.
“Con said I should get Max along,” I related as I waited for the toaster.
“Hmm, not a bad idea,” Dad mused, “he could help with the barbecue.”
“Dad!”
“Just a thought.”
“Your Dad might have something there,” Mum put in.
“Really?”
“Why not?” Mum went on, “Boris is coming with your sister.”
“He is?”
“They’re staying the night.”
“Together?”
“I’m not that much of a prude Gab, I have a fair idea what goes on in Bonn,” she told me, “as long as you don’t expect Max to ‘sleep’ over.”
“As if,” I nearly spat, “I mean, we don’t, I er...” turned a deep red by the feel of things.
“Its alright love,” Dad mentioned, “she’s just winding you up, I think.”
I am so not admitting to ‘that’ night in Bonn! I’d be grounded for life.
“You gonna redo your hair?” Mand asked as she attended to my locks.
“You already are,” I pointed out.
“Not this, dye it?”
“How long this is taking to grow out? Not likely.”
“But its like your trademark, you could use one of those temporary things.”
“It’ll wind Nanna up enough as it is,” I told her.
“She not do coloured hair then?”
“Apart from her own, its so black it looks like a wig,” I chuckled.
“One of our neighbours does hers like carrot red, she must be at least fifty.”
“Maybe that's it, do it like blue or green, really wind her up.”
“Nah, it’d clash with your jerseys.”
“And your point de Vreen?”
“Just saying your highness, there done.”
I checked this evenings ornate braid in the mirror, “it has grown out quite a bit.”
“I did say,” my hairdresser noted.
With my hair done in braids the pink isn’t so noticeable now, there’s maybe ten centimetres of blonde from the roots. I could get the pink cut out I guess, not sure I’m ready for short hair though. Even when I thought I was a boy I had longer hair, not down my back or anything just longer than standard boy hair, maybe like collar length – now of course its bra length, you know, reaches my BH in the back.
“Come on,” Mand chivvied, “the mirror’ll still be there later.”
It was a pleasant enough evening and for a change we weren’t running late. I don’t know what it is about Kostum but it always makes me feel, I dunno, more girly? That sounds a bit weird, I guess its a bit like wearing stockings instead of tights, sparkly earrings to plain hoops and when you’re in similarly dressed company, well it sort of multiplies the effect – for me anyway. So as the three of us walked up to the Stube I had a silly grin on my face.
“No Max tonight?” Pia queried.
I shrugged, “dunno, why’d you ask?”
She tapped her nose, “no ring.”
“Probably in her Handtasche,” Con suggested, “I like the crystal better any way.”
“It is cute,” Inge agreed as she passed with the cutlery tray, “time for work though.”
Work, that’s what I do at the kiosk, I do this for what Gran calls ‘pin money’, well and I enjoy doing it, dressing up, meeting all the tourists, chatting with the bus fahrer.
“And so she says, ‘this Leberkase is very tasty, the German’s really know how to do vegetarian’.”
“No!”
“Straight up,” Nena confirmed, “hadn’t got the heart to tell her.”
“She was telling the whole coach,” Dennis added.
“I can’t believe she thought it was cheese.”
“A little knowledge eh...” Nena suggested.
I still haven’t worked out if she is actually German or not – or if she is actually a he like P insists, she certainly looks female and acts female. Maybe there is something a little off with her but nothing I can put my finger right on. There again, who’s to say what is normal for either gender? As Drew I probably acted a bit ‘girly’ - not surprisingly but as far as I was concerned I was quite ‘manly’, yeah I know.
“I like your nose stud.”
“Er thanks.”
“Don’t you usually wear a ring?”
“Sometimes,” I agreed.
“I think the stud looks cute on you.”
Grrr, that flippin’ C word! If one more person says I’m cute I’ll, i’ll ooooo!
“You should get yours done, I think it’d suit you,” I suggested.
“Not so likely, I haven’t even got my ears pierced!”
There was some sort of wordless exhange of looks between the Global crew and her reaction was sort of rehearsed, like a standard reply you know like ‘have a nice day’?
Maddy Bell © 14.11.2017
“What exactly are ‘Pommes Angleterre’?” Nena asked reading my handwritten sign.
“Proper chips,” I stated.
“Eh?”
“Like steak chips,” Con put in.
“Not exactly,” I countered, “you’ve had ‘em at mine.”
“Don’t remember,” Nen shrugged.
“You’ll see in a bit,” I sighed.
“I wanna know what’s wrong with good old German Pommes,” Con put in with a moan.
“Never said there was anything wrong with them but English chips are healthier.”
“Pull the other one Gab, don’t you fry them then?” Con queried.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“So?”
“Its the surface area of the chip,” I started.
“Now I know you’re making it up,” Nen opined.
“Seriously,” I went on, “for the same amount of chip there’s like fifty percent less fat.”
Con scoffed, “how’d you work that out clever clogs?”
Why me?
“Look i’ll show you,” I pulled one of my home made chips out of the bowl and pulled several Frites from the basket waiting to be fried. “okay so English chip, German chip,” I put them on the counter beside each other, “to get the same amount of potato I need like four German chips to one English,” I advised stacking the potato up.
“Right,” Nen agreed cautiously, "so how can the English be healthier?”
“Like I said, surface area, if I stuck the Pommes together into one big chip and fried them how much of each gets fried?”
“Well all of them of course.”
“Ut uh, only half the outside surface, the bits in the middle get cooked but not fried.”
“She’s right you know,” Con allowed.
“Told you.”
“So that's why the English eat them, because they’re healthier,” Nena posed.
I had to stifle a laugh, “don’t be daft!”
“So go on then oh fount of knowledge,” Con pursued.
“Brits don’t really go for crunchy chips, fat and squidgy are the best.”
“Get on with you,” Nena scoffed, “who’d want squidgy Frites? They must be awful, not cooked properly like that.”
Really, no taste some people.
“you’ll see,” I promised.
“Wotcha Gab,” Max offered with a cherubic grin.
“Max,” I allowed.
“Frikadel?”
“I suppose so, I’ll bring it out.”
Max is probably our most regular, er regular – not that he ever pays but he’s here pretty much every week day – well at least we get to see each other.
“Max is getting ‘Pommes Angleterre’ then?” Nen suggested as I grabbed a good handful of my carefully prepared potato and dropped it into the frying basket.
“Yup,” I agreed, “like it or lump it.”
I lowered the basket and the chips spat and hissed as the wet hit the oil but quickly settled down to a boiling mass as I selected a Frikadel and put it to finish on the hotplate.
“So the chips okay?”
“Fine,” he shrugged making short work of another golden finger of potato.
“Anything different about them?” I hinted.
He paused with another poised on his fork, “bit like the ones dad makes to go with the sea fish? Bit soft but alright though.”
Alright, well hardly a ringing endorsement but not rejection either.
“That’s sort of the point, they’re not fried to death, you can taste the Tater.”
He shrugged, “works for me.”
“Its how we do them in England, thought they’d go with the pies?” I suggested.
“Hmm, I can see that working, didn’t we have something like that at yours once?”
“Possibly,” I agreed, “they’re healthier too.”
“I can see that, not as much oil in them.”
“Back home they used to use animal fat to cook them.”
“I don’t think the Ahrtal is ready for that,” he grinned.
“You’re probably right.”
“So erm Max?”
“Hmm?” he allowed around the last chip.
“You about next Tuesday?”
He swallowed and wiped his mouth before replying, “probably, why?”
“You're invited to the family barbecue.”
“Cool, we can slip away after eating,” he grinned.
“No chance,” I sighed, “my Oma Bond and all the cousins are coming.”
“Really? And I’m invited? Are any of ‘em as gorgeous as you?”
“So’s Boris,” I advised ignoring his flannel, “they’re nearly all in nappies, I think Dad wants you to help with the barbecue.”
“You’re not cooking?”
“I’m sure I’ll end up doing something besides looking pretty.”
“You’re very good at that.”
“And there’s me thinking you were interested in my sporting prowess,” I sighed.
“That as well,” he hedged, “I guess I’d best help your dad then.”
“Have to warn you, Oma is a bit of, er a snob, please don’t mention titles and stuff.”
“If you insist your highness.”
“I mean it Max, she’d be unbearable.”
“Okay, sounds like she’d get on with Gran.”
“Your Gran is nothing compared to Nanna Bond.
“So?” Nena queried once I’d exchanged lippy with Max and returned to the kiosk.
“I’d say a reasonable endorsement.”
“They’d be better if they were crisper,” my friend suggested.
“Philistine,” I muttered under my breath.
“How many?” Con asked.
“Seven and all under ten.”
“Your family sure breed a lot.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, not exactly what I’d call it but strictly speaking she’s not wrong.
“So are they staying at yours?”
“They’ve rented some place up in Adenau thankfully, I don’t think I could put up with Nanna for more than a couple of hours, it’ll be ‘Gabrielle do this, fetch that’, we don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
“She’s not like your other Oma then?”
“Like chalk and cheese, Gramps is fun though. Last time I saw any of them was before we moved here.”
“So you’ve not met all your cousins then?” Nena suggested.
“I’ve got that joy to come.”
“I thought you liked babies?” Con snorted.
“At a distance!”
“What about Drea?”
“Well she’s different,” I stated.
“How so?” Nen pursued.
“Well I was there when she was born,” I mentioned, as if that made any difference.
“So you aren’t going to have Kinder?” Nena enquired.
“Not planning on it.”
“I wasn’t meaning like straight away,” my friend pointed out.
“And I mean like never,” I told them. I couldn’t help but be reminded of my recent scare up in Bonn – urgh!
“You’ll change your mind, I guarantee it,” Con predicted.
“So how did your ‘English’ chips go down?” Mum queried.
“Not exactly a raging success,” I admitted, “Max had some and me and the girls.”
“Maybe its the name?”
“Could be,” I allowed, “but they are English chips.”
“Not neccesarily the best selling feature in Germany.”
“But Wilhelm is always booked out for his English nights,” I pointed out.
“Different customers kiddo, maybe you need a different name?”
“Like?”
“i dunno, Jumbo Frites, potato fingers?”
“That’s it!”
“What, potato fingers?”
“Really Mum? no, healthy chips, Biopommes - Low fat, more taste!”
“How’re you gonna carry this lot?” Mand asked.
“Not sure,” I admitted surveying the pile of stuff on my bedroom floor. A pile of stuff that doesn’t even include my bedding or toiletries. “we’re taking our bikes.”
“Your school bike?”
“The Schauff? Yeah.”
“You could take less clothes,” she suggested.
To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure what I should take. Mum and Dad would want me to take the kitchen sink, walking boots, full rain wear, wellies, oh and clothing for every occasion up to and including a royal reception. But honestly, its a few days chilling out with friends in a tent in the middle of summer.
“Yeah,” I agreed with a deep sigh.
Mand poked at the pile, “three swimsuits?”
“They don’t take much space.”
“Jeans?”
“It might get cold,” I temporised.
“But you’ve got like two pairs of capri’s, leggings and a long skirt too.”
I gave a little shrug.
“What are the others taking?”
“Dunno.”
“I bet they’re not taking half their wardrobe.”
“Its not half!”
“Okay, a quarter and heels? Camping? Really?”
I shrugged again, “we might go out to eat?”
Mand just shook her head.
“I need some different stuff Mand.”
“You’re only away a few days Gab, you can wash socks and pants, I bet there’s a laundry on the site.”
“Er yeah,” I allowed recalling Anna’s hard sell on the trip, laundry, restaurant, shop, swimming – compared to a lot of sites the Family Bond have stayed on over the years its like ten star, this Knaus Camping place. Maybe I’ll ask Con and the others what they’re taking – Mand’s right, this lot is overboard for less than a week away.
Maddy Bell © 16.11.2017
“What are you up to?” Dad asked finding me sat Elflike on the garage floor.
“Thought I’d give the cross bike a bit of a polish up,” I nodded towards the bike, sans wheels, gears and brakes, in the workstand.
“Any reason?”
I shrugged, “just fancied it.”
“Fair enough,” Dad allowed, “I’ll leave you to it.”
To be honest I couldn’t really say why I pulled the crosser out, nostalgia maybe, like my spare bike it was gifted to me, somehow that made it more, I dunno personal, than the team issue bikes which aren’t really mine. Mix in a bit of spare time, all my friends are doing stuff, Mand’s working today, Mum’s away racing in Denmark this weekend so I’m at a bit of a loose end. As you know, Dad usually looks after all the bike maintenance, not because I can’t but because its what George pays him to do.
Its not like the Klein was put away dirty or anything, on the other hand it wasn’t clean clean and so here I am, polishing sprockets, poking dirt out of gear mechs and returning the frame to a showroom gleam. Of course Dad’ll reset the gears and brakes when I’m done but even girls can re-cable a bike and clean a chain. It was sort of restful sat there poking and a polishing, the time went by quickly, I was surprised when Dad called me up for lunch.
“How’s it going?”
“Just the wheels left,” I supplied before taking a bite of my cheese and Marmite® sarnie.
“Leave them out when you’ve done, I’ll redo the bearings.”
“’Kay.”
“So you gonna do cross with Anita this winter?”
“Might do.”
“Well at least you won’t be in hospital this year.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, I really could’ve done without that, like full stop.
“I’ll talk to Carsten, he’ll have Anita’s programme, there’s usually a junior race on the programme.”
“Hmm, there any of that cheesecake left?”
It was after one by the time I was done with the Klein, it was properly shiny not having any of the newer painted stuff fitted, well apart from the grey rims but like you don’t really get shiny rims these days. I was quite pleased with my efforts – not that I intend spending four or five hours bike cleaning on a regular basis. Nope I’ll leave the regular cleaning to Dad and his Kärcher!
I had a quick shower then set about fixing my nails – bike cleaning and nail polish do not go well together! Its not that I’m super fussy about chips and that but if you’re going to paint them you really should do the maintenance, it looks like you don’t care otherwise.
“You want anything in Ahrweiler?” Dad asked poking his head into the kitchen.
“Where you going?”
“To collect the meat for the barbecue and Hen’s grill.”
“I’ll come with you, I could do with some more remover and shampoo.”
“Five minutes.”
“On it,” I agreed, I can finish my nails later, they only need the top coat.
“You want me to pick you up on the way back?” Dad asked.
“Nah, I’ll go round to Der Mühle and go home with Mand.”
“Better, we could eat there tonight?” he suggested.
“After working there all day I’m not sure Mand’ll want to spend more time there.”
“Maybe you’re right, the Stube?”
“Go on then, I want to talk to P anyhow.”
“Don’t be too late then or it’ll be frozen soup.”
“Bye Dad,” I allowed with a roll of the seeing orbs as I closed the A’s door.
I walked through the arch into the old town and up towards the Drogerie where I get most of my cosmetics. Some of the shops were already shutting, its not like the towns busy at four on a Saturday afternoon, the supermarkets are out of town, there aren’t any department stores, hardly any chains are represented – even the Tourist Info office closes at one. My destination was still open at least and I hurried inside and grabbed a basket – well I’m bound to find other stuff aren’t I?
My basket was already brimming with a new bottle of polish and a tub of makeup wipes besides what I came in for when I spotted the gift sets. Hmph, I can remember Jules having something like this when we were little – I can remember her being really upset when I painted some of my toy cars with the sticky pink varnish – well they were all sparkly!
Maybe I should get something for my cousins, how old are they?
“I’ll be another half hour,” Mand advised me, “you want a coffee?”
“You making it?”
“We only do filter, even I can manage that.”
“Go on then.”
“Go sit, I’ll bring it over.”
It felt a bit weird being waited on by Mand but I took my bags and plonked myself in a vacant booth.
“There you go,” Mand advised arriving almost as quickly as me but laden with a tray bearing coffee, creamer, sugar and a biscotti.
“Cheers, so how's it been?”
“Not bad, busy at lunchtime, Eva says its usually quieter in the afternoon.”
“Yeah, no ones in town hardly after lunch,” I agreed.
“So what’ve you been buying?”
“Got a nice blue varnish,” I told her as I dug it from the bag.
“Oo, I’ll have to borrow that, what's the other stuff?”
“Gifts for the cousins.”
“Lucky cousins, how old are they?”
“The oldest girl is seven, the youngest is like a year, got her this,” I flourished a sort of beanie pig.
“I thought there were boys too?”
“They’re easy.”
I dug in the other bag to produce a selection of toy cars.
“I guess most boys will be okay with that.”
“That’s what I thought, I’ve no idea if they’re into sports or anything, these are a pretty safe bet.”
“Amanda?” Eva called from the bar.
“See you in a bit,” de Vreen suggested.
I checked out my other purchases, kiddy makeup sets for the two older girls, the pig for the youngest and soft dolly for the other. The boys, well there was a set with a police car and ambulance, another with a tractor and trailer combo, the last a bus and taxi – they can fight it out between them who gets what. I sipped at my coffee, repacked my bags and was studying the menu when Mand returned with her coat and bag.
“Ready?”
“Oh right, yeah.”
We caught the Express the two stops back to Dernau, well it saved a good forty minute walk, not something you really want to do in ballet pumps. Even so it was rolling on six when we got home.
“Helmut’s reserved us a table for half seven,” Dad advised as we walked through the garage.
“I’ve got time to shower then,” Mand advised going ahead.
“You’ve finished the Klein?”
“Didn’t take long, I re-greased the headset too, quite a bit of crud in there.”
“Never thought of that,” I admitted.
“Which is why I’m the mechanic and you’re the rider, is that coffee I can smell?” he hinted.
“I’ll put it on before I get changed.”
“Hi guys,” Inge enthused passing out the menus, “drinks?”
“Cola for me, girls?” Dad offered.
“Diet,” Mand advised.
Bum, i’ll look a right wino if I have beer or wine, “radler?”
“One cola, one diet and one radler,” Inge confirmed.
“Quite busy tonight,” Mand noted looking around the restaurant.
“It is Saturday,” I pointed out, “lots of people eat out, its not like there’s anything on telly.”
“True,” she agreed.
A few minutes later Ingrid returned with our drinks and took our food order, Dad ordered the salmon linguini, I went for the mixed grill and Mand wanted a baked tater.
“P about?”
“Helping mum in the kitchen,” Inge advised.
"I’ll pop and see her later, best not delay the food.”
“I’ll warn her you’re here,” she chuckled.
“Are you alright with steak on Tuesday Mand?” Dad asked while we waited for our food.
“Tuesday?”
“The big barbecue,” I noted.
“I can do you some fish,” Dad offered.
“Er, i’m working the evening shift at Der Mühle,” she advised, “and anyway its a family thing, you don’t want me there.”
“Max and Boris are coming,” I pointed out.
“You’re more than welcome, you are pretty much one of the family you know,” Dad added.
Mand blushed a little, “I should work, I’ve said I will but thanks for inviting me.”
We finished eating and I slipped away to find Pia.
“P, you got a minute?”
“Mama?”
“Go on, five minutes,” Eva allowed.
“Come on,” Pia pushed me through into the house, currently in darkness.
Once we reached the lounge she put on lights before collapsing on the sofa.
“Busy tonight.”
“Tell me about it, so what’s up?”
“You know this camping trip, what stuff are you taking?”
“Sorted?” Dad enquired when I returned to the table.
“We’ve ordered you ice cream,” Mand advised.
“Cheers, yeah, all sorted,” I confirmed.
“So?” Mand prompted.
“You were right Mand, less is more.”
Dad raised a brow.
“The camping trip,” I filled, “I was gonna take the kitchen sink but like P says, Anna and her friends are taking the tent and stuff so we don’t need much.”
“You taking a sleep mat?”
“What for?”
“Mark my words after a couple of nights you wont be asking that if you don’t.”
“Have we got any?”
And so I received the wisdom of Dad on the subject of camping.
Maddy Bell © 18.11.2017
“Gab? You ready? they’ll be here soon,” Mum called up to my eyrie.
“Coming,” I called back.
Well actually that's a lie, I’m dressed but that doesn’t mean I’m ready. It took me an age to decide what to wear, not too dressy – it is a barbecue after all but on the other hand shorts and a T seemed a bit, well too casual. In the end it was a toss up between a summer frock and a cami top and capris, I settled on the dress as its less, er revealing. Then of course there was hair, makeup, jewellery – well you know, I mean, I wanted to make a good impression.
My thoughts went back to the last time I saw Nanna and Gramps Bond…
“Do I have to go?” Jules whined for probably the hundredth time since Dad announced we were going to see his parents down in the West Country.
“Yes you do,” Mum insisted, “they’ve not seen you for over a year.”
“They could come here,” my sister mumped.
I was keeping my silence, I do at least get to race while we’re down there.
“You know Gramps doesn’t like driving far,” Mum stated.
“Drew, you could back me up?”
Yup – I still thought I was a boy called Drew back then.
I shrugged, “its only for a few hours.”
“My point exactly, all that way!” my sibling stated before flouncing off with a ‘grrr!’
“You’d think it was the end of the world,” Mum sighed.
As the crow flies its over a hundred and sixty miles to Nanna’s in Burnham but of course the real world adds a chunk to that, add in some non motorway roads, the usual M5 roadworks and a comfort stop and our journey usually takes closer to five than four hours. And so we left Meden at daft in the morning, I mean, five o’clock isn’t even the day yet. I made myself comfortable in a corner of the back seat, Jules slumped in the other – at least it isn’t raining – yet.
“Where are we?” I mumbled as I tried to focus on the countryside beyond the window.
“Just coming up to Worcester spud, we’ll stop in a few minutes.”
The mention of stopping brought on a desire to use the facilities – how does that work then? By the time we pulled into the services I was fit to burst, I did the ‘quick walk’ from the car into the building and I nearly made it. Except I got caught up in a coach load of slightly inebriated rugby players and had to wait for a urinal. Look it wasn’t much, everyone does it at some time and I did wash my hands.
“Drew Bond,” Mum sighed spotting the stain on the leg of my jeans.
“It’ll dry,” I offered.
“Come on, lets get you cleaned up, we’ll be back in about ten minutes Dave.”
Jules sniggered as Mum dragged me back out to the car.
“You did pack some more trousers?” Mum asked as we reached the car.
“Erm.”
“One day Drew, get in and get them off.”
For some people stripping in the back of a car would be considered weird, as a cyclist its almost normal, for time trials in particular its rare to have changing facilities. The only difference today is that we’re in a motorway services car park.
The door flew open, “hey!” I complained.
“Here, put these on,” Mum instructed throwing a bundle into the car before removing me from public view again.
I felt a right prawn when we went back into the services to find the others, it wasn’t so much that I was wearing a pair of Jules knickers but that her short dungarees just scream girl.
“Why’s he wearing my shorts?” Jules demanded.
“Because someone didn’t pack spare trousers, don’t worry I’ll wash his jeans when we get to Burnham.”
“Sorry,” I allowed slumping into the booth next to Dad.
“Never mind spud,” Dad put an arm round me in a sort of half cuddle, “coulda been worse eh?”
There is that, at least these are shorts, my last trouser incident I ended up wearing a skirt, talk about embarrassing. And I guess its not like we’re stopping anywhere else on the way, we’ll be at Nanna’s in a couple of hours and I can get changed into my bike kit then. I picked at my Chelsea bun, not exactly a good example of the genre, dry, too much sugar and not enough currants, hopefully this afternoons race will be better.
We pulled up outside of our grandparents semi just as the rain that had been threatening from Bristol decided to head towards terra firma. They must’ve been watching for us as the door was open before we got there.
“Hello mother,” Dad greeted giving Nanna a quick kiss.
“Come on in, you’re letting the wet in.”
Yup, she’s not changed.
“Hi Nanna,” Jules added in turn.
“Why are you wearing so much makeup Juliette?”
“She’s a teen,” Mum interjected, “hello Mum.”
“Jennifer, where’s my grandson?”
“Er here Nanna,” I allowed from behind Mum.
“What are you wearing Andrew?”
“Bit of an accident on the way down,” Mum supplied for me.
Manna gave me a funny look.
“Come on through everyone, kettles on,” Gramps advised.
I like Gramps, he’s quite funny and we never leave without some sort of present, books or something.
“We shouldn’t be too late,” Dad told the women of the family as me and Gramps preceded him out to the car.
“Have a good ride Drew,” Mum called out.
“I will.”
It was still raining but not so heavy and it looked like brighter weather was coming in from the Bristol Channel. The race, a ten mile time trial is only about ten miles away at Axbridge not far from Cheddar of cheese fame. According to Dad its almost dead straight and almost billiard table flat apart from a bridge near the turn.
“So how’s school then Drew?” Gramps asked as we made our way back towards the M5.
“Okay I guess.”
“You started your O levels?”
“Its GCSE’s now dad,” Dad supplied.
“Not till next year Gramps,” I added.
“They keep on messing with things, wonder anyone has any proper qualifications.”
“Yes Dad.”
“Seventy eight,” the time keeper called.
“Good ride Drew,” Gramps encouraged as Dad took my trackie off my shoulders.
“Be safe spud.”
I rolled up to the line and let the pusher grab my bike.
“Thirty seconds, long way to come for a ride?”
I gave a shrug, “visiting relations.”
“Watch out for traffic at the turn,” the time keeper advised, “fifteen.”
“Clear behind,” the pusher advised, I glanced behind from habit anyhow.
Deep breaths, calm.
“Five,” I hit the start on the computer, “four, three, two, one, go!”
I stood on the pedals and heaved away from the line.
The course is quite exposed, crossing the Somerset Levels to the nipple that is Brent Knoll, not quite arrow straight but not far off. I quickly settled down and flicked the shifter to change up the gears, not into top, save that for the way back. Indeed riders coming back were clearly enjoying something of a tail wind so if I want to take advantage I need to not burn all my energy on the way out.
Amazingly its the same A38 which we started out on at Mansfield this morning, there’s less traffic on this bit though which is just as well as its a single carriageway road. I wasn’t in immediate danger of being caught, seventy nine has a PB a couple of minutes slower than my 23.45 and number eighty about the same faster – in theory he should catch me on the run back to the finish. With the road so straight I could see several fluorescent orange numbers ahead of me, I seemed to be closing on the nearest.
My head was wandering a bit, should see the Knoll soon, hope that climb’s not too steep, I’m gaining on seventy seven. Concentrate Drew, I almost looked under my arm but Mum’s advice echoed in my head, ‘losers look behind, winners look ahead’. As Mum is a world champion I’m inclined to take notice of her advice.
She isn’t even supposed to be here this week, her team in Germany were supposed to be racing in Austria but the event was cancelled due to snow! Can you believe it, snow in April? There wasn’t time for her to enter this, our journey down has been on the cards for a few weeks of course to coincide with Gramps birthday tomorrow.
Concentrate! Suddenly my minute man was much closer, the bridge and the hill beyond looming large on the otherwise flat horizon. I looked at the computer readout, ten minutes twenty, not too shabby into the wind. However the seconds seemed to flow away rapidly as I approached the motorway bridge and although I was still catching my minute as I reached the roundabout turn thirteen minutes had passed.
Its a fairly big island, as I moved out to make the turn a rider was just exiting, not the one I’ve been gaining on either. I had to ease a moment for a van on the roundabout but then I was across and round. The difference was startling, instead of the wind whistling through my helmet it was almost silent and I quickly dropped the chain through one, two, three sprockets into top.
Maybe I was a bit premature with top, I had to heave the pedals through the top but then the ‘drop’ from the bridge added the bit extra to get it turning smoothly. It wasn’t much further on that I reached seventy seven, quick look for traffic, out and past. Nice, I relaxed a little and set about chasing the next rider up the road.
They had boards out from three miles, two, one – I was almost in touching distance of seventy six, come on Drew. The digits on the screen made no sense, twenty thirty, it was thirteen at the turn, that’s only seven minutes, has the thing stopped? Is that the finish? keep it going Bond.
At the hundred to go board I got out of the saddle to get the last bit out – and to catch seventy six which I did right on the line.
“seveny ate!” I gasped out before freewheeling only then remembering to stop my computer.
“New personal kiddo,” Dad beamed when he and Gramps got back to the car.
“Well done lad,” Gramps added.
“What?” I panted out from the back seat.
“Twenty two eight.”
“Wow,” I allowed.
“Looks like you might end up top ten,” Gramps suggested.
“Its early yet dad.”
I sipped at my lukewarm ‘free’ tea as I surveyed the result board wedged in the back of someone's estate car. There were mumbles and complaints from other competitors gathered about, seems that generally times today were slow, the fastest in so far was a mid twenty one, some guy from Exeter Wheelers. My eye kept going back to where it read ‘A Bond, North Notts Oly 22.08 19.08’, the second number my handicap time.
I might not finish top ten but it looks like I might win the handicap and schoolboy prizes – okay they’re not worth a lot but that's not the point. More times were added to the board, eager riders watching as eat digit was added, twenty three, twenty five, twenty two but forty something. Only another dozen to finish.
“Well spud?”
“I’ve got the schoolboy and I’m still leading the handicaps.”
“Anyone else faster?” Dad queried.
“A long twenty two just went up.”
Thirty minutes later we were heading back to Burnham, not on the A38 but the long way round via Cheddar – well Dad wanted to get some cheese from one of the tourist places for someone at work. Where did I finish? Oh yeah, sixth so I scored three prizes, not bad for a little un from Warsop. I must’ve dropped off as the next thing I knew the car was pulling up at Nanna’s again.
Maddy Bell © 17.11.2017
“Heya Gab, pass us that plate,” Max requested.
I did as asked before responding, “where’s Dad?”
“Gone to meet your grandparents.”
“They’re here?”
“Only just,” he advised moving some English style sausages onto the plate.
“They come all the way to Germany and we give them English sausage.”
“For the Kinder I think, there’s steak and chicken for the adults.”
“So what do we eat then?”
“Well I fancy a bite of Gaby.”
“Geroff!” I brushed off his advance, “not here.”
We were disturbed by approaching voices.
“There she is, Gabrielle, come and give your Nanna a hug.”
Max, who had his back to her mouthed ‘Gabrielle’ with a grin which nearly had me spluttering.
“Nanna!” I went to her and gave the expected hug.
“And who’s this young man?”
“Max my er boyfriend,” I admitted.
“Delighted to meet you Frau Bond, Gaby has told me so much about you.”
“You’re German?”
“Nanna, we are in Germany,” I pointed out.
“You speak very good English young man.”
“I have a very good teacher Frau Bond.”
“Ah, there you are Sarah.”
“Gramps!”
“Gaby? My you’ve grown.”
I hugged him with somewhat more enthusiasm than with Nanna, “not really Gramps.”
“Well you hadn’t got those last time I saw you.”
No, last time we met I was still convinced I was Drew.
“Stanley!”
“Sorry dear, I take it this is your young man?” Gramps went on as I blushed from his previous comment.
“Maximillian von Strechau sir,” Max didn’t quite click his heels but he did offer his hand.
Uncle Sams clan were introduced, Aunty Jill and the boys Ollie, Charlie and the youngest, Richard.
It might‘ve been a couple of years since we’ve seen Nanna and Gramps, its even longer since I’ve seen Aunt Kath although Uncle Sam and family did visit us at Warsop before we moved. Me and Max were in the kitchen when the Simmonite's arrived, a few minutes after the main Bond contingent in their Sharan.
“Well you’ve certainly shot up,” Aunt K addressed Max.
“Kath,” Uncle Jim, her husband hinted.
“Er down here Aunt Kath,” I suggested.
She looked at me, at Max, back to me.
“I’m so sorry Gaby, last time I saw you...”
“Everyone thought I was a boy,” I interrupted to spare her blushes, “this is my friend Max, Max, Aunt Kath, Uncle Jim but I’m not sure who this lot are.”
There was a phalanx of tiny girls in their best frocks, another tinier one in Aunt Kath’s arms.
“How anyone ever thought you were a boy,” Uncle Jim opined before planting a fatherly kiss on my forehead.
“Just Kath please, Aunty makes me sound so old.”
“Er okay,” I allowed.
“This one’s Jasmine,” she started the introductions, “then we have Rosie, Violet and the shy one at the back is Daisy, say hello to Gaby girls.”
“Hewo,” the one identified as Violet squeaked.
“They’re a bit shy around strangers,” Uncle Jim mentioned.
I bent down, in my case not that far to talk to them, “I do like your dresses, they’re very pretty, did you pick them yourselves?”
Rosie and Violet nodded in agreement while tiny Daisy hung onto her mothers leg and sucked her thumb, her eyes though were fixed on my every move.
“You look vewy pwetty,” Violet whispered.
“Thank you Violet, so do you girls like hotdogs?”
There was some vigorous nodding.
“Come on then, Max has cooked you some special sausages but I think the boys will be after them.”
“Shall we all go through, I think we should be ready to eat,” Dad suggested having come to find us.
“Come on girls, lets beat those boys and I think my big sister is outside too.”
Barbecue, not my favourite way to eat but its an easy way to cater for an informal get together, less washing up, need more food, just chuck it on the grill and pretty much people serve themselves. The little kids seemed happy enough with their sausages in buns, not exactly hotdogs but with red sauce and onions a reasonable substitute. Somehow we managed to avoid food on clothing with them – maybe it was the huge napkins Mum supplied that pretty much swamped the littlies.
There was indeed steak and chicken for the adults supplemented by frikadel, bean, green and potato salad, brötchen – Jules made us fresh fruit salad to have after. There was beer and wine to wash it down, I sneaked a couple of bottles of Krombacher for me and Max. I’m not sure who my sister was trying to impress, she was swigging from a glass of red.
As you might guess there was a fair bit of catching up going on, stuff parents might be interested in but comparative times for potty training, talk of jobs in ‘the real world’, lives of people unknown in the UK – not exactly of interest to sixteen year olds. I found a corner for me and Max to sit, we could hear stuff but at the same time sit in comparative peace.
It was inevitable really, Jules and me, well Boris and Max by default, that after eating we were drafted to keeping an eye on the older cousins, that’s to say Ollie, Charlie, Rosie and Violet, the youngest three remained under parental care. The girls are pretty little things, shy around us strangers but the lads, well I guess Charlie was copying his elder brother but they were little buggers.
“I don’t see why we should babysit,” I complained.
“Because I asked you to,” Mums voice floated across the garden.
“Auntie Gaby,” Violet said tugging at my skirt, “why are you and your mummy talking funny?”
Talking funny?
“You were talking German Gab,” Jules advised.
“Sorry Violet, we were talking how everyone here talks, I forgot.”
“Everyone talks funny?”
“Well its not funny to them, they probably think you talk funny,” I suggested.
“They speak German stupid,” Ollie interjected.
“She is not stupid,” I told my bratty cousin, “can you speak German?”
“I know some Spain!”
“Its called Spanish,” I corrected, “Cómo te llamas?”
“That’s not real,” Ollie stated.
“Oh I think it is,” Jules told him, “she asked what your name is.”
Violet blew a raspberry at her elder cousin which made Max laugh.
“Hmmph!” Ollie crossed his arms and frowned, his younger brother doing his best to copy him.
“Oliver, what have I told you?” his mother, my Aunty Jill, called over.
“Gab?” Dad called out.
“Yep?”
“You want to fetch the scrap book and your medals?”
Well not really, but it was hardly a question was it? I guess its Mum and Dad’s turn to do the ‘proud parent’ bit.
“’kay.”
The scrapbook is something Gran suggested when we moved to Germany, its like a history of our family, photos, cuttings from magazines, even tickets and invitations. Mum is in charge of maintenance but we all contribute stuff, there’re pictures of Bern and Drea, cuttings from Stern after Stuttgart, even some pics from Claudia’s Christmas last summer. Of course its not just me in there, there's stuff from Mums travels, Dad’s race passes, postcards from Jules – its not a proper history but its a fun way of showing other people what we’ve been up to.
“You need a hand?” Max offered.
“Might be an idea,” I agreed before almost skipping back to the house.
Inside I let Max get the scrapbook off the bookshelf, he can reach it easier, whilst I went into the bottom of the trophy cabinet to get the box with my medals in. Yeah I know but like what do you do with gongs? Proper trophies you can look at, polish and admire but medals are really the poor relations in terms of awards and I’ve got quite a few now.
“Here,” I heaved the box on top of the ‘scrapbook’ (its actually a loose leaf photo album).
“Geez Gab, what you got in there, lead?”
“Just a few medals, come on, Mum’ll be dying to rub some of these in.”
“You certainly don’t let the grass grow guys,” Aunt, no, just Kath mentioned as she turned the pages of the album.
“Its a good place to live,” Mum supplied.
“Who’s this?” Kath queried, flashing a loose photo at us.
As I was closest I took it from her to look, sugar, how did this get in there?
“Erm, just a party I think.”
“Let me see,” Jules demanded snatching it from my fingers, “ah, that’s Gab behind all the mascara, the guy’s Stefan, its his band Gab sings with.”
“You sing with a band Gab?” Uncle Sam queried.
“Er not exactly.”
“Oh come on Gab,” Jules went on, digging me a deeper hole, ”she’s brilliant eh Boris?”
“She’s a very good singer,” he agreed.
“What sort of music do you play?” Uncle Jim asked.
“I’m not really in Blau Hase, as such that is.”
“Its sort of Punk meets hardcore Rock,” Jules supplied.
I was getting looks from Mum, I haven’t heard the last of this have I?
With all the munchkins, the evening was cut quite short at about nine, we’ve been invited up to them on Friday. Maybe I’ll get more chance to be with Gramps instead of babysitting.
“Fwooh,” I allowed, “I’m only having girls, he was a proper little so and so.”
“Oh so you’re planning on making me a grandma then?” Mum queried as we cleared up the debris.
“Er not exactly.”
“Mark my words, girls can be ten times worse.”
“But Rosie and Violet were so well behaved.”
“I was thinking more of the chaos caused by Gabrielle and Juliette?”
“Aaaa!”
“That wasn’t so bad,” Max suggested as we cuddled on the swing seat a bit later.
"I guess.”
“Your grandfather is quite funny.”
“Unlike Nanna,” I mentioned.
“She wasn’t so bad.”
“I can’t imagine talking to her like I do with Gran.”
“Perhaps not," he agreed, "she is maybe not a people person.”
Maddy Bell © 18.11.2017