“So that’s what was in the extra bag,” Mand chuckled.
I waggled my eyebrows, “so what do you think?”
“I think you’re mad.”
“Takes one to know one.”
“If you say so.”

The subject of discussion? Well my ‘dinner’ frock, I am not wearing the team ‘uniform’ dress, not today, no, instead its a little number my sister picked up as a joke birthday gift. No nothing like that, you remember that dress Ginger Spice had, the Union Jack thing? Well that’ll be me for dinner.

“Hope you’ve got some armoured knickers.”
I brandished the albeit brief matching sequined pants, “ta da!”
Mand shook her head, “I dunno Bond.”
“You think this is too much,” I queried producing a headband with a pair of Union flags on its sprung antennae.
“Definately, might pinch that myself mind.”
“Here,” I handed it off to her, “where’re we stopping Dad?”
“You’ll find out,” he mysteriously replied.

Clearly Dad and the other adults had planned things somewhat in advance as after about fifty minutes Caro, driving the minibus ahead of us took a turn off the A3.

“This it?” I enquired peering out at the non descript countryside outside.
“You’ll see,” Dad replied mysteriously.
“Angela?” I appealled.
“I’m in the dark too,” Ron’s mum told us.
“You putting that silly dress on Ginge?” Mand asked.
“That is why I brought it.”
“Might be time then?” she suggested.
“You’ve got five minutes,” Dad called over his shoulder.
“Okay,” I shot back.

“Gab!” Mand complained.
“What?” I queried once I’d got my top over my head.
“You could use the back,” she suggested.
“No one can see,” I pointed out as I started undoing my cargo’s.
She rolled her eyes, “you really are shameless Bond.”

I’m not really, its just that years of communal changing rooms, getting dressed in car parks and lay-by’s and an older sibling not exactly shy of walking around the house in her underwear means I don’t have the same body phobia some kids have. I mean, its not like I’m stripped naked, I do have pants and a bra on. By the time the camper started making turns and creeping progress I was be-sequinned in red, white and blue and looking through my make-up bag.

Dad had to lift me out of the Hymer – well have you tried steep steps in a micro dress? I might not be embarrassed by my body – well not too much but having your dress around your middle and knickers on full display is not a look I want to explore. And the breeze along the river accentuated the brevity of my outfit, I’m sooo glad I remembered the matching knickers, at least they offered a bit more protection from the elements.

“What is this place?”
“Seligenstadt,” Dad supplied as he locked the camper.
“Never heard of it,” I noted as we started along the parking lot towards where the BC bus was parked.
“No reason you should,” I was informed.
“So what river is it?” Mand asked, “looks quite big.”
“Same one you were racing along earlier,” Dad advised.
“The Main?” I suggested.
“The same,” he agreed as we reached the others, “everyone ready?”
“Whoa, its Ginger Spice!” Geth exclaimed which had the effect of drawing everyones attention to moi.
“Didn’t realise it was fancy dress,” Lor mentioned.
“Har de har,” I snapped back.
“A thought yous were German now like?” Josh noted.
“Do I look German?”
“Well actually,” Sal put in, “you sort of do, and what with your accent.”
“Accent?”
“She disna know,” Jamie added, “yer certainly don’t sound like a Sassenach.”
“And you dress like a German too,” Claire concluded.
“And how exactly do German’s dress,” Tal asked.
“Erm,” Lor started, “like you guys?”
“If you lot are ready?” Caro suggested.

I’d never even thought about different nationalities wearing different stuff – well apart from stuff like Kostum but that's not everyday wear, least not in my neck of the woods. I looked over my companions dress and mentally compared it against how me and my friends dress and had to agree up to a point at least. When Gaby made appearances back in England I wore what Mad, Ali and Bern did, it was the same here in Germany, you want to fit in right?

I came to a sudden halt, almost bowling Daz over.
“What we stopped for?”
“So we don’t get knocked over, the ferry’s just docked,” Gret supplied.
“Ferry?”
“I swear you walk around with your eyes shut,” Mand opined.
“Do not,” I pouted.

The ferry wasn’t some huge great ship of course, in fact it wasn’t even as big as the one at Linz although it was a similar style. I guess they don’t need anything so big, the river here isn’t that wide and I guess half a dozen cars clears the queues okay. In fact as we waited the motorised traffic coming up the ramp were outnumbered by a flock of trekkers and walkers.

Once the wheeled stuff had passed our own flock crossed the top of the slip way to and up the street away from the river. Away from the water the late afternoon heat reflected off the whitewashed walls almost oppressively, still, that was preferable to the breeze up your fundament. It wasn’t actually a long walk, perhaps a hundred metres or so but we soon arrived in a bit of a square, mostly taken up with outdoor restaurant seating for, if the different seating is anything to go by, three different establishments.

Dad and Caro left us with a ‘wait here’ which left us milling about in the sunshine.

“That’s what I mean,” Claire stated joggling my elbow.
“Eh?”
“Those girls over there.”

I looked where she indicated, a group of teens were getting Eis from a Gelaterie.

“What about them?” Well they didn’t look any different from any group of teens in the Ahrtal or Bonn or anywhere – well one of them was ‘mixed race’ but so what?
“Come on Gabs, when did you see that sort of outfit in Manchester or Yorkshire?”
“All the time.”
“Really?”

I then got what she meant, whilst essentially it was the same sort of stuff, all of the girls across the plaza looked smart, no errant bra straps, proper shorts instead of cut offs, even the trainers are all pristine. Is that really how Auslanders see us? Do me and my friends comply with the same ‘code’? But of course we do, even if we’re doing scruffy it’ll be ‘smart’ scruffy, I guess you can spot the Brits by their more slap dash approach to dressing.

Any further reflection on Claire’s observation halted as our leaders returned.

“Okay guys, if you follow the chap on the far side, he’ll get you seated,” Dad advised.

The chosen eatery, Zu den Drei Kronen, The Three Crowns, is what I would call the posher end of the traditional German restaurant range. In other words you get a fairly traditional menu presented a bit nicer and pay more for the privelege – nothing fancy of course, Germans can be quite conservative in their eating choices. We were having a fixed menu apparently – guess to make it easier for the cooks and I bet Dad screwed them on the price too.

By the time we were seated around a big table, clearly several pushed together to accommodate the sixteen strong party, the Maitre D had several waiting staff delivering iced water.

Dad tapped a glass to get our attention.

“Okay everyone, I’m not going to bore you all with a long speech, don’t want the food to get cold do we? I know from what you’ve all told Angela, Caroline and myself that you’ve enjoyed being here, in turn we’ve enjoyed having you here. I know things haven’t exactly turned out as we had hoped but now isn’t the time to go over that again, as you know, I’ve spoken to everyone over the last couple of weeks and you all know where things stand.

Whatever happens going forward, I hope that you’ve all, both BC and Apollinaris riders, benefitted from the experience. The breaking news is that Darren will be returning to ride with Apollinaris next year on a full season basis – I’m just sorry that I can’t offer the same to the rest of you. On the positive side, Caroline is hoping to set up a junior racing team in the UK so think of this, not as the end but as a new beginning.”

Whilst Dad was talking, glasses had been filled with something wine like.

“So, rather than waffle on I’d like you to all join me in a toast,” he waited for everyone to lift their glasses, “to the future success!”
“Future success!” we chorused back before taking a sip of the wine.

Caro stood up, “before we get down to the serious business of eating I’d like to just add my two penn’ath. Firstly I’d like to echo Dave’s words, it really has been a privilege in working with you all this summer, I know Daz and I have picked up more German than we had and we would’ve been lost without Angela’s culinary skills. So in reply I’d like to ask all my lot to join me in thanking Dave and all the Apollinaris crew for making this summer such a success.

To our German hosts, prost!”
“Prost!” the rest of the BC lot returned.

Dad stood again, ”okay, lets not get maudlin, time to belatedly celebrate your Spanish successes and of course todays result, enjoy!”

The food was soon being distributed, a thin soup to start, followed by the usual salad and a main course of turkey ‘Hawaii’ with boiled taters. Like I was saying, nothing too fancy but nice enough and a little bit different to all the schnitzel and so on. The whole was rounded out by a berry compote and finally coffee. Which is when it started to get a bit silly but you don’t want to know about that, really, you don’t want to know!

“Damn!”
“What now,” Dad queried with a tired sigh arriving in the kitchen with the basket of bidons for washing.
“I’ve got my college thing tomorrow.”
“Tuesday,” he stated.
“No tomorrow, look I marked it on the calendar,” I told him grabbing the said thing from its hook.
“Its Tuesday, your mother is running you down.”

He was right of course, it was clearly etched on the calendar, where I got Monday from I’m not sure.

“Bum, I told Con it was tomorrow.”
“You’d best ring her now then,” Pater suggested.
“But its well late,” I noted.
“And who’s fault is that?”

It was sort of mine, but not entirely, it wasn’t me that started the impromptu karaoke session in the restaurant – I will admit to not exactly shying from stretching my vocal chords a bit. Not that anyone discouraged my efforts either, I’m quite proud of my a-capella rendition of 99 balloons and the girls choir version of the Spice anthem Wannabe had us all in hysterics as we ad-libbed our own lyrics. It wouldn’t have been quite so bad but we still had a couple of hours drive to get home afterwards.

“Hmm?”
“Con.”
“Gab? What time is it?”
“Er,” I checked my watch, “just turned twelve, look sorry but I’ve mucked up.”
“Hmm?” she sleepily opined.
“My college thing, its Tuesday not tomorrow.”
“Kay, see you in the morning,” she mumbled before cutting the call – well I can’t blame her I guess, I’m pretty kernacked myself.

Maddy Bell © 06.08.2018