"You are from
"Well, not exactly
"I have trousers I call
"Oh. Right." Stuart has told me all about the traditional Bavarian trousers; -long leather shorts that they go walking in. Now I feel more on top of the conversation. "You mean like Lederhosen?"
There is a seconds silence while he looks at me aghast. "Lederhosen? No! Cord. Manufactured in
After this gaffe, I need to steer the conversation back to cycling. "This is a very good Festival. I hear it's been going for eight years. Who puts on all this lovely food in each village."
"Clubs," he replies. "In this village it's the singing club and the motorcycle club. You like the cake yes?" he says proudly. I look at the stocky young man with a slight smattering of stubble and conclude he must be there to represent the latter. "So you are a biker then?"
Again he is shocked by my lack of insight. "No, no, no. I am choir."
"Right," I say nervously.
"But I don't sing," he adds, in case I were to misunderstand him once again.
Today across the whole of the
Our first day on
Unsurprisingly, we were the only people in the pool, but for a change we were in the majority on the road. We soon cheered up as grannies, toddlers and even dogs under umbrella's were pedalled or pedalled themselves past us on the hills. Up to thirty thousand people apparently. The festival happens here every other year and is very popular. People read about it in the papers and come from miles around.
But at , it's all over; the barriers are lifted by teams of stewards, and it's something of a shock when cars push past you on the road once again. "Quickly, pedal quicker," Matthew hurries me along, as the first car revs up behind me. "Relax, it's not going to turn into the M1," I say. And it doesn't. But it was better by bike, and only bike. What luck for a family of cyclists to stumble across a day just for us.