Gaby Book 15 ~ Friends ~ Chapter *15* Media Circus

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*Chapter 15 *

Media Circus

 
 
“You want to get a Brat?” I suggested.
“We’ve only just had lunch.”
“We might not get anything later,” I pointed out.
“Soup?”
“Yeah but it’s not…”
“…A sausage,” she completed my sentence, “go on then.”

“Danke,” I allowed taking delivery of my sausage in a bun.
“So,” Mand started, “what was that with your dad then?”
I finished chewing my bite of sausage, “Sports Personality? Apparently they are sending a camera to interview me this afternoon.”
“You what?” she exclaimed.
“Precisely,” I noted as we walked towards our cabin.
“You’d’ve thought they’d sort it out sooner rather than the day before.”
“Yeah,” I agreed before taking another bite from my second lunch.

The market was quite busy, not Bonn or Köln busy but enough visitors for queues at the various food and drink stalls and a good smattering looking at the other wares on offer. Not being a big commercial market the majority of stalls are run by local businesses, clubs or entrepreneurs so the stuff available is different to what you see at the big markets. We picked our way through to St Laurentius, arriving at our domain at ten to two.
“Coulda done with you two an hour ago,” Brid mentioned.
A quick glance inside revealed our café was full and we seemed to have a queue waiting to go inside, bum!

Two things happened an hour later, the early shift finally got away and Dad turned up with a chap with a camera on his shoulder and, shitza, Gertie Schmidt from Rhein Abend ! You remember, back in the spring, she was at that fitness run thing I did? Well she was here now with Dad.
“Hi, Mr Bond,” Max intercepted the delegation.
“Hi, Max, Gaby about?”
“She should be inside.”
“Thanks.”
Of course I knew they were there, we only had one table occupied inside so I’d been propping up the counter.
“Manda, can I borrow Gaby for a few minutes?”
“Dad, we’re busy!” I hissed.
“I can cope, I can shout Max if we do get busy again.”
Oooo!
I gave Mand a look as I straightened myself out before going outside.

“Ah, Gaby, Gertie Schmidt, I think we met earlier in the year?”
“Er yeah, the Tauglichkeitweg opening.”
“It was a bit warmer then, eh?”
“Much.”
“Gertie’s got some race footage,” Dad put in, “the Beeb need a bit of chat to go with it.”
“Don’t look so serious, Gaby, we’ll get set up and we can do it out here, I mentioned to your Papa I’d like to do a slot for Rhein Abend as well if you are up for it?”
You can do this, Gab, you’ve nothing to hide, you are a girl!
“Um okay,” I agreed.

The Beeb stuff really did only take ten minutes; it was just a set of straightforward questions about my riding and ambitions. I’m sure the editors will make some sense of it; I think Gertie said the finished segment will only be two minutes long. The light was going a bit so, with the cabin unoccupied for the first time since our arrival we headed inside.
Of course I had to spruce my makeup a bit and Mand had a quick tidy of the cabin before I sat down with Gertie, two cups of coffee and a plate of mince pies.
“We’ll do some outside shots and my intro afterwards, okay?”
“Er sure,” I allowed, some of my nervousness had gone, I wouldn’t say I was confident but just less nervous.
“I’ve come inside for a warm,” Gertie started, lifting her coffee cup, “and I’ve found a local celebrity, Junge Weltmeisterin, Gaby Bond!”
Local celebrity my foot! I tried to emulate how I’d seen others talk in Gertie interviews.
“Hello, Gertie, welcome to our cabin.”
“We’re used to seeing you in more sporting surroundings but this is a little unexpected, why are you in Mittelalter costume here at the market?”
“It started last year, a group of us from Silverberg Gymnasium volunteered to do a stall here at the market in support of the Kinder Haus, here, in Ahrweiler. We raised some money, sang some carols and had a good time doing it, we wore elf costumes, and it was a great success.”
“A little bird tells me you weren’t in the same costume?”
Who told her that?
“Er no, my friends decided I should dress as my namesake.”
“James Bond?”
“No the Angel Gabrielle.”
“I’m sure you made a great angel.”
“So I’m told.”
“And now?”
“We decided to repeat our effort but take it up a level.”
“And so we are here in your coffee house?”
“Yes, friends and family have worked hard over the last two weeks to get everything ready, a local business, Eloise Couture made our costumes and my friend Connie and I have been baking nearly every day.”
“So everything you are selling has been made by your group?”
“Yes, from Spekulatius to these mince pies.”
“Which I have to say are delicious,” Gertie told the camera, “so why the Mittelalter theme?”
I decided to twist the truth a little, “We were up in Bonn a few weeks ago and saw a wedding at the Dom, the bride and her maids and the groomsmen were all in costume. It was very colourful and unexpected so we stole the idea for our stall!”
“Ah, we saw a young man outside in the doublet and hose, what do they think to this.”
“That’s Max, I don’t think he and the other lads were too keen to start with but we convinced them.”
“Well I’d best let you get back to work, I can see customers coming in, thank you for the coffee, Gaby.”
“Goodbye, Gertie!”
“And cut!” Gertie announced, “That was excellent, Gaby, thank you.”
“Er no problem.”
“You really made these pies? They are delish!”

Gertie and team left a few minutes later, we had a sizeable donation in the pot and Dad had a grin as wide as the Humber Bridge.
“That wasn’t too bad, eh?”
“I guess not.”
“I’ll be back down to pick you up about quarter to eight, you want a lift home, Max?”
The third member of our team had just come inside for a warm.
“That would be great, Herr Bond, I’ll put Mum off.”
“I’ll get off then, see you all later.”
“Later.”
“Bye, Mr Bond.”

“So what was that all about?” Max enquired as he cupped his coffee.
“Which?”
“Well all of it.”
“She’s famous,” Mand supplied.
“Thank you for pointing that out, Mand, the first bit, outside was for a TV show in England.”
“England?”
“It’s, well it’s to celebrate sporting achievements during the year, I got nominated so they wanted an interview.”
“The footballer will win.”
“How do you know?”
“These things, there’s always a footballer and they always win,” Max stated. “What about after?”
“Gertie wanted to do a bit for Rhein Abend.”
“About you?”
“Well not specifically, it was mostly about doing this, some free advertising” I pointed out.
“You two want anything fetching, I’m going to the wurst stall.”
It was tempting, very tempting.
“We’ve got soup,” I regretfully told him.
“Hmm, need something to warm up, don’t know how you girls cope wearing hose all the time.”
I hoisted my skirts, “Thermal hose!”
“Won’t be long.”
“He mumping about wearing tights?” Mand asked.
“Complaining his legs are cold.”
“Wimp!”

By the time Max got back brandishing his half metre sausage the teatime lull was over, people were back out to meet friends and family in the atmosphere of the Weihnachtsmarkt. No snow tonight but cold it was and that meant we weren’t short of customers for the remainder of the evening. Max was back and forth to Der Mühle with the crockery, Mand was becoming a dab hand at serving cake and of course my skills with the Gaggia are recognised on two continents!
When Dad arrived the market was already emptying, a few stragglers perused the stalls and a livelier group were propping up the glühwein stand.
“How we doing?” Dad enquired.
“Max is doing the last crockery run, we just need to tidy up a bit and we’re done.”
“Okay, sausage? Frikadel?” he offered.
I’m not turning down an offer like that a second time.
“If they’ve got anything left.”
“I’ll be back!”
With that, Dad disappeared.

Maddy Bell 12.02.16



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