Familie Badstöber
DE
Day 1: The journey begins … Shortly before ten, we leave Böblingen on schedule, having, as diligent Swabians, of course, done the weekly cleaning first. We head to Renningen to pick up Stephan. In sweltering heat, we ride to the Bergisches Land, our first stop on the holiday. Conveniently, there's an SR500 gathering there. Despite the severe storms forecast, we arrive dry; the rain doesn't start until night.
Day 2: The Netherlands Luckily, the rain stops in the morning. We get up around eight and still have enough time to admire the gift the IG Bergisch-Land received from the IG Schwabeneintopf for its tenth anniversary. At ten we set off towards Amsterdam/IJmuiden (pronounced “Eymuiden”). The signposting in the Ruhr area is almost British; we have some trouble finding the right exits. We pass Bochum and Oberhausen and head into Holland. Just before IJmuiden, the speedometer cable snaps on the little black rascal (Markus's SR).
On the ferry, we buy a bag of crisps and two cans of Sprite. We're not yet very quick at converting prices into pounds, so at first we pay almost €12 for them. Once we're in our cabin, we realise that can't be right. So we go back and ask, and sure enough, we get our money back. The cashiers had been charging us the price of a six-pack for each can the whole time, but apparently we were the first to complain.
Day 3: Kendal At half past seven in the morning, a friendly Dutch woman wakes us in three languages. Over breakfast, we even hear the football results: Stuttgart lost. The ferry docks in Newcastle at ten. Finding our way out of Newcastle is harder than planned. The signs point either to little suburbs we can't find on the map, or to large cities that aren't on our route. Somehow, we manage and ride along small roads, past free-roaming sheep, tethered horses and countless small animals that have been run over, via Spennymoor, Bishop Auckland and Barnard Castle to Middleton in Teesdale.
It's a nice little town, and Kik even gets to hold an eagle owl. We continue via Brough, Kirkby Stephen and Sedbergh to Kendal, where we're camping tonight. The campsite is almost empty, but the woman at reception initially insists that everything is full. We do get a pitch in the end, but we have to keep six metres between the tents. Stephan has to rearrange his setup.
After putting up the tent, we walk into Kendal and actually find an Italian restaurant that's still open. The kitchen closes in ten minutes, but there's just enough time for a few mini pizzas.
Day 4: Arrival on the Isle of Man We get up early so we'll reach the ferry terminal at Heysham in good time. Since two ferries are due to leave almost at the same time, passengers are identified by coloured stickers. Ours are a cheerful pink and say LADY. That lets us through the check-in almost among the first—but then half the queue overtakes us. The two of us must look suspicious, because we're the ones whose cases and tank bags get searched at the security check. The button-pushers just get waved through. We're a little annoyed, kick-start our SRs again and join the back of the queue.
On board the Superseacat 2, we lean our bikes against a rail and tie them down, as usual. Since we board quite early, we can get a nice window seat. From there, we see part of the loading ramp collapse a little later, while about 50 motorcyclists are standing on it. Luckily nothing serious happens, but a few people are knocked over and the ramp is no longer usable.
So we wait until another loading ramp can be brought over. While waiting, we meet the Scotsman Donald Kay, a former sidecar passenger who is allowed to ride the Isle of Man TT course once more in the Lap of Honour and is visibly proud of it. Despite the long delay, we reach Douglas in good time. Since we're already expecting the campsite to be completely full, we race towards Dhoon Glen. We even overtake a few people from Gruseleck who unfortunately had to come by car.
When we get to the campsite, we're surprised: there's loads of room, and we can pitch our tent with a lovely sea view again. Les comes by later, and later still we decide to celebrate our arrival at the Glen Mona pub.
Day 5: Fairy Bridge We get up in glorious sunshine and have breakfast first. May it stay like this! We actually want to take a fairly direct route to Fairy Bridge to greet the fairies, as tradition demands. Thanks to Markus's talent for reading signs, we take a little tour of the island, almost as far as Peel. We make our usual impossible wishes to the “Little People”, then continue to Douglas. We buy T-shirts there first, because we've learned our lesson, and that's a good thing. Last time, everything was already gone by the end.
Then we look up the local Yamaha dealer and get a new speedometer cable for the little black rascal. It's actually for an RD 350, but it costs only £8.60 and fits perfectly—in fact, better than the original. After a quick stop at the campsite to read the paper, we continue to Ramsey. At last, our first Cornetto Mint. Mmm!
Practice starts at six. We watch for a while, then ride on to the Creg Ny Baa. This time, everything is closed off and costs money. After the sidecar race, we ride back and make mashed potatoes. “Yummy, yummy!” as Rainer would say. We spend the evening by the fire, chatting a little with the Welsh campers in the tent next door and enjoying Heiner's Carling bombs.
Day 6: Niarbyl The weather is great again in the morning, but Les says the afternoon will be wet. So we make the most of the time and ride along little mountain roads. In Niarbyl, we look at Ned Devine's house again, then ride to our favourite beach kiosk in Peel. This time, they have sandwiches and delicious hot chocolate with cream and (!) marshmallows. We had planned to go for a walk afterwards, but the rain Les predicted starts, so we head back.
The weather is now really miserable, and we make lentil stew in the porch. We use a break in the rain to nip over to the Glen Mona pub, but spend the rest of the evening playing Yahtzee in the tent.
Day 7: Pig racing Luckily, the sun is out again in the morning, and our clothes are dry. Even so, we're still a little wary. Since we'd already decided to spend the day at museums, we rattle down to Douglas and visit the Manx Museum. Admission is free, which pleases us Swabians, and the exhibition is pretty good. We sit for ages in the cinema and watch old TT films. Afterwards, we briefly look in at the Grandstand, then head towards the Gooseneck. Stephan leaves long black marks on the road along the way.
After sitting at the top of the bend for a while and watching the races, we want to go back to Dhoon. First, though, we try to help a BMW sidecar rider. He was already working on it when we arrived, and a few days later we hear from him that a tow truck finally got him away from the Gooseneck around midnight. There's pig racing at the Glen Mona in the evening. The little pub is packed again. Note to Markus: two Carling are more than enough!
Day 8: Standing Stone The weather is fantastic today, so we put on our winter fur of jackets and trousers. Now we're not quite so annoyed about having left the sleeping-bag liners at home to save space.
Today we ride to Point of Ayre and lie on the beach. Afterwards, we visit the church in Kirkmichael, which has some very beautiful gravestones. Next, we look for the “Civil War Fort” marked on our map. Eventually, we find a sign pointing to it, but at the end of the road there's only a large field.
At Ballaugh Bridge, we have some delicious chilli at the Raven first. Then we look at the local church. Now Markus has spotted another sight on the map that we have to find: the “Standing Stone”. It must be somewhere nearby. It's terribly hot, and all we find is a big palm tree and the houses of people who have a lot of space.
Eventually, we ask a local man. He's never been to the stone himself, but can explain how to get there. It's in a big field full of sheep and isn't anything special. But we're pleased that we found it at all. Actually, it's not THE Standing Stone, but A standing stone. One of many on the island. When the races start, it gets very crowded at Ballaugh Bridge and you can hardly see anything at all. We remember how peacefully quiet it was at the 2005 Manx Grand Prix. Heiner's bombs are admired in the evening, and it gets late.
Day 9: In the paddock Today we head to the Grandstand very early. All kinds of stars are supposed to be wandering around there. We immediately run into Richard “Milky” Quayle and Shaun Harris.
Breakfast is bad, soggy burgers, but when you're hungry … The races are cancelled today because of the bad weather. So we ride to the promenade and visit the Joey Dunlop exhibition. Afterwards, we continue to the pedestrian zone for lunch at Subways. At Shoprite, we buy the scones we remember from last year, and at last there are blue Pringles again too, all at the “buy one, get one free” rip-off price, of course.
Day 10: Mad Sunday As forecast, it rains a little in the morning. When we set off towards Castletown, it's foggy and damp. Since we're much too early, we first drop in at the breakfast gathering of the German racers. We have a quick chat with Karsten Schmidt, then get interviewed by a journalist from the English magazine Motorcycle-Classic. In the big raffle, we win a lighter instead of a helmet or racing leathers. 🙁
When we get back to the market square, the vintage bikes from the Motorcycle Vintage Club are just arriving. We feel sorry for the lads and lasses with their lovely motorcycles in the rain that's just started again. Luckily, we've brought our sou'westers, so we don't get too wet. In a side street behind the market square, we also run into Heiner Butz and Heinz Rosner. Donald from the Muldoon Racing Team arrives later and assembles the sidecar right in the middle of the road.
Eventually we've had enough and head back towards Douglas. A pretty cemetery catches our eye at a bend in the race course. We have to stop, of course, and just as we've pulled over, the Purple Helmets come towards us—after all, it is Mad Sunday. We don't think it's all that mad. We have another look at the Creg Ny Baa, but not much is going on there either. Back at Dhoon, it's just starting to rain. We make a packet soup, but after that our options are limited. Around seven, we go to bed in the tent and get up again later only to brush our teeth.
Day 11: Yamsey Huh, only twelve hours of sleep! It takes us a long time to wake up properly. It has stopped raining in the morning, but it's not exactly great weather for drying things either. We have cappuccino and scones for breakfast and discuss what to do next. Since Saturday's races were cancelled and today was supposed to be the Lap of Honour, nobody really knows what's happening now.
Eventually we decide on Ramsey, and since the races are delayed today because of fog in the mountains, we can wander around town for a while. This year Ramsey has been renamed Yamsey, so Yamaha has organised a few activities. To enter a competition to win nice helmets, you have to collect stamps all over town. We end up in a few shops we would never have looked in otherwise, and realise that might have been for the best.
Eventually the sky clears, and because we don't want to give up our good spot at the bend by the Town Hall, we get a nasty sunburn. The races start at about 12:45. John McGuinness wins by a huge margin. For the sidecars, we cross over to the petrol station and meet Dave, Mandy, Siôn and Helen.
Soon we're so exhausted by the heat that we have to take a shower first. The lads from Nordhorn have some sausages left over and let us have a share. Delicious, delicious—thanks again!
Day 12: Lap of Honour The weather is fairly changeable again this morning. But we've learned from yesterday (yes, we're still capable of learning), so we apply sunscreen to the red patches just in case. Today we decide to go back to the Grandstand and take funny photos with Jim Redman and Phil Read. Just as Phil starts licking Kik's face, Markus's memory card is full. What a shame! Now we can't even tell from his expression how he liked the taste of sunscreen on her cheek.
Dieter Braun is in the Yamaha area, and we recognise Michelle “Mike” Duff too. She is really pleased when we ask to take a photo with her. Donald is taking part in the Lap of Honour today, and we meet Heiner Butz and Heinz Rosner again. Then Kik suddenly recognises the two lads (Erik and Rainer) with whom we spent half a day standing on a wall at Ballaugh Bridge during the 2005 Manx Grand Prix. We hear from them that Murray's Motorcycle Museum at the Bungalow is closed and that Peter Murray now runs it from home. (Thanks for the tip!) GerMAN meet-up at the Tynwalds Inn in St. John's is scheduled for 5 p.m. We don't know many people here, though, so we just have a quick chat with a few lads from Künzelsau and head back to the campsite.
There's a party tonight, after all. Preparations are already in full swing, and later half of Maughold turns up, bringing surprisingly delicious food too. The buffet is overwhelming, considering we've been living on English food for about a week and a half. We try Heiner's legendary rhubarb cake, which the housewives in the area rave about, and Markus gets a mussel to eat. At last we're properly full again! While we're in the loo, there's also a fireworks display. One might get the wrong idea, but we really did miss the light and sound show while brushing our teeth.
Day 13: Classic Bike Show After last night's party, today calls for a lie-in. We have a leisurely breakfast, then ride to the Gooseneck. Parking a motorcycle there during the races now costs £2. We think that's outrageous and first ask the cashier to show us his “permit”. He says he's from the charitable XY Foundation. Yeah, sure—they all say that. The sidecars follow the Supersport race. It's alarming how many riders miss their braking point here.
Afterwards, we ride to Ramsey to fill up, then take little single-track roads via Port Cornaa back to the campsite. Later, we pull ourselves together and ride down to Douglas. We wanted to see the big crowds in the capital at least once. As it happens, there's a show today featuring old machines and their riders. Since we get there early, we find really good viewing spots on the promenade. Suddenly, a police officer comes straight towards us. We immediately think of our illegally parked SRs and imagine ourselves in jail. But the friendly officer says we've “lost” something and gives us an Isle of Man police patch. That's really nice! At the show afterwards, we see the familiar Phil Read, Jim Redman, Heinz Rosner, Heiner Butz and Kevin Schwantz. Ernst Hiller immediately falls off a borrowed Benelli in the first corner. What a lovely bike! Then we walk down to Bushy's tent and wait for the big fireworks display, which is due to take place today too. It starts at eleven and is really worth seeing.
Day 14: Laxey Motorcycle Show All the lads and Michelle from the Yamaha Racing Team are supposed to be in Ramsey today. There's not much going on, though, and we've already met them all at the Grandstand anyway. So we explore the area nearby and ride to Port-e-Vullen. It's really pretty here, and you can have a nice scramble over the rocks.
There's a motorcycle show in Laxey today, so we head there next. After eating some delicious, crumbled chocolate biscuits on a bench near the railway station, we decide to walk down to the promenade. It looked much closer on the map. We sweat profusely and are annoyed because it's not particularly exciting here today either. So we walk back up in the blazing sunshine, only to find out at the railway station that the train trip we'd planned for the next few days would have been possible right up to today. Starting tomorrow, the trains will leave Dhoon Glen only from 10 a.m. and return from Douglas at 4:40 p.m. At £12 for a day ticket now, it's not worth it at all. What a shame, but we're not here for the last time.
When we get back to the campsite, we first have to reattach the chain guard on the replica, which tried to throw it off on the way. It's the only screw she loses on the whole trip, and later it makes her the overall winner of this year's breakdown statistics. In the evening, Dave and Julie take us up to the Glen Mona in their camper. There's delicious beer with warm bread, and, despite the kitchen supposedly being closed, we even get some chips. We walk back after a few Carling, feeling progressively more buoyant.
Day 15: Race day Today we head down to Douglas. We park at Governor's Bridge, then first walk to the Grandstand to meet Giacomo Agostini, who's supposed to be there today. He's at the MV Agusta stand signing autographs. We take the obligatory photo and then listen to the last race. Unfortunately, we can't see anything because it's far too crowded, and £25 for a grandstand seat is simply too much for us. McGuinness wins again.
Then we meet Luigi Taveri, strolling among the merchandise stalls. There would have been loads of T-shirts in size “S” for him today. They don't fit Stephan, though, so he learns too that you should get this sort of thing done as early as possible. Luckily, we'd already learned that in 2005.
Back at Governor's Bridge, we find good spots and wait for the start of the Parade of Champions. Because of an accident in the mountains on the penultimate lap of the last race, in which three people died, it is postponed until much later. So we wait and melt in the heat. After the parade, we actually want to go to Ramsey, but another accident means we get only as far as Glen Mona.
Day 16: Cregneash It's very warm again in the morning. We've arranged to meet the two lads from up the road to go to Murray's Motorcycle Museum first, then to Castletown, where everyone is going today because there are races on the Billown Circuit, where the Southern 100 is usually held. But nothing is happening at Rainer and Eugen's tent by 10 a.m., so we go and knock on their door. They've completely overslept, which we can't understand when it's 50 degrees inside the tent. We can't stay in bed past half past eight any more. We finally set off at eleven, following the directions from the other two lads we met at the 2005 MGP.
We can't find Peter Murray's house, so we continue to Castletown. Later, we find out that he wasn't at home at all; for the first time in 20 years, he was watching a race with his wife. We could actually have met him at the Billown Circuit. As the racing there starts with practice laps, someone immediately crashes right in our corner. He doesn't get back up and is taken away on a scoop stretcher. But he and the few spectators standing where his bike flew off are apparently all right.
Eventually we've had enough of motorcycle racing, so we continue via Port Erin to Cregneash. Because of the road closure for the race, we have to take a rather pretty route that is, surprisingly, well signposted.
On the way back, we buy a delicious Dr. Oetker pizza at Tesco in Douglas. At last, proper food again! Later, by the campfire, we have red wine from the Landesbank in a Tetra Pak, with Tesco biscuits. Rainer makes his first bombs and makes a racket with his bike. The Welsh children learn a little German today.
Day 17: Lost camera! It's tropical in our tent again this morning. We have a nice breakfast—it's amazing how quickly you get used to English food (scones)—and watch the others pack.
Today we've planned a lap of the course and want to start in Ramsey. But the big sign says “Mountain Road Closed”, so we decide to have an ice cream first, until the accident debris has been cleared away. When we try again, the road is open. We ride to the Bungalow, where Murray's Motorcycle Museum closed last year. We stop anyway and take photos of the Joey Dunlop statue. Then we continue on the Mountain Road, which has been made one-way. Around Kate's Cottage, Kik realises she's left her camera at the statue. Welcome to the Badstöber family! Because of the one-way system, of course we can't go back. So at the Creg Ny Baa we take the little road via Laxey back to Ramsey. The sign says “Mountain Road Closed” again, and Kik nearly has a heart attack.
Now we try the mountain road via Sulby, and actually find the way without a map. When we get back to Joey, the camera is naturally gone; by now, about an hour has passed. Kik is angry with herself and mourns, among other things, the 180 holiday photos that have disappeared too. We go down to the junction and ask a police officer sitting in his car where the lost property office is. When he first asks what colour the lost camera is, a weight lifts from our shoulders. If it had been black or silver, he would probably have asked what make it was. A short time later, Kik has her little blue camera back in her hands. She's happy, and voluntarily disqualifies herself from getting the police patch, which Markus gets instead. Punishment must be served!
We continue around the course, relaxed again. At Ballaugh Bridge, we have chilli once more and sit outside. When we want to move on, an Englishman starts chatting to us again. He misses the old days because he used to have an SR too. On the way back, we go via Sulby, where the little Celtic shop that was closed last time has unfortunately become a café. In the evening, a man from Wales comes to “our” campsite. He immediately starts complaining about the gas cartridges in the campfire and is generally acting very strangely. The residents of Dhoon Glen suddenly become one big family. Everyone comes crawling out of their holes and brings all the supplies that still look suitable for making bombs. In wartime, anything goes.
Dave tries shaving foam, but it literally backfires. What a sight! After about an hour, around 10 p.m., the unwelcome guest packs up his tent, quickly rides off on his decrepit Virago to complain to Les, and leaves. Of course, before he goes, he also informs the police, who come to visit us later. We've already taken the launcher out of the fire, but we couldn't have fooled the friendly officers anyway; they come to the campsite party every year too. The lads get a cup of tea in the camper, and all is well.
Day 18: Manx cat Rainer and Eugen left this morning. Heiner is flying back around midday too. Everyone else is packing their tents. It all looks very much like departure. Today we want to head towards the Calf of Man, a small island just off the south of the Isle of Man. The weather is really nice today, and since we have time, we try once more to find Peter Murray near the Santon Motel. This time we succeed; he's at home. There's still lots to do in his new museum, but we're allowed to have a look anyway. He tells us that he's sold a lot of things, and considering everything that was on display at the Bungalow, that's a real shame. We take a few funny photos and promise to come back when everything is finished. It's lovely at the Calf of Man, and we even see a seal. We have a hot chocolate in the café; the waiting time fits the general atmosphere perfectly. People have time here.
Next, we want to go to Glen Maye. On the way, we pass through Cregneash and, since lads never notice anything, Markus has to be forced to turn around yet again. What Kik spotted as we drove past really does turn out to be a Manx cat. She's very sweet and lets us take photos. A tailless cat is quite fascinating. Glen Maye looks like the tropical greenhouse at the Wilhelma (the zoo in Stuttgart), and the beach has wonderful stones.
It's a really lovely spot on the island. Afterwards, we go into a bank and ask for some of the new 50-pence coins featuring sidecars, issued for the TT. We hadn't thought it would be so easy. In Ramsey, we buy pizza and beer, and a newspaper with tomorrow's TT news.
Day 19: Fog The drizzle in the morning soon stops, and we can pack our things and carry them into the hut. Since we're the last ones at the campsite and have to get up early tomorrow, we want to sleep somewhere dry tonight. Then we ride to the Creg Ny Baa, where we were hoping to take great photos and get something to eat. The fog puts an end to the photo project, and the pub is closed too. Oh well, on to Douglas and lunch at Subways.
We buy provisions for the ferry and only later realise that our cases aren't on the rascal at all; they're packed full in the hut. Somehow, we manage to strap everything down. Since it's still early, we ride to Ramsey again to buy our last souvenirs. We spend a long time looking for a card game featuring TT legends, which is sold out everywhere. At last, we find one in a beauty shop, and it's even 50 pence cheaper there. Our plan to burn the traditional English residual rubbish in the evening goes up in smoke, quite literally. When we get back, our carefully filled yellow sack and the racing trolley have already become victims of the flames. Around nine, we go over to Les and Pam's one last time to say goodbye. We chat until eleven, then quickly go to bed. Tomorrow we're going back. We're longing for home!
Day 20: Rain in England The alarm goes off at 5:30 a.m. We pack everything in, up and away, so we're at the ferry for check-in at 6:30. We meet the strange Welshman and his Virago there again. Better stay out of his way.
Once in England, it starts raining very soon. It really gets going in Sedbergh, and we decide to put on our rain suits after all. Luckily, it's market day there and one of the stalls is empty. At least we have somewhere dry to shelter. We were actually planning to stay at a campsite near Barnard Castle tonight, but after Stephan suggests a bed and breakfast and the rain refuses to stop, we eventually give in. We ride as far as we can, and since the name of the town Stanhope sounds so hopeful, we head there. The mountains on the way are very pretty, but also very foggy and damp. Because a river is flowing straight over the road, we have to take a little detour. In Stanhope, we ask a police officer if there's a B&B anywhere. He says we should try the pub up ahead. It's called “The Bonny Moorhen”, and the owner is German. She happened to be standing nearby when we asked the officer, so she already knows what we're looking for. The room isn't cheap, and breakfast costs extra, but we don't want to be wet any more and the prospect of a hot meal makes us stay. We take a family room because it's cheaper, and it even has a bathtub.
Day 21: Newcastle We wake up, and all the noisy cars outside have their windscreen wipers going. This doesn't look good! For breakfast at 8:30, we choose porridge instead of the traditional English breakfast. It tastes like Finnish puuro accidentally made with milk, but has a similar consistency (oatmeal gruel). Never mind; it's raining outside, and Marianne doesn't think the weather will improve. Nothing can shock us now, not even the maths at checkout. So we pay too much again, and Markus leaves his kidney belt in the room. But the door is already closed and nobody is around. We head towards Newcastle in torrential rain. The petrol gets alarmingly expensive at some point, and at a roundabout we nearly lose Stephan, because he takes a different route. But after that, everything goes pretty well until the ferry terminal, apart from the signs for North Shields/Tyne Tunnel. When we arrive, we sit down in the terminal and chat with a couple from near Siegen. They have just spent two weeks in Scotland on a Guzzi and had good weather too.
Slightly overfed on all the biscuits, we go to check-in at 3:15 p.m., and the usual process follows. An Englishman has a funny blue helmet with colourful flowers. This time we're not sailing on the Queen of Scandinavia, but on the Princess of Norway. The cabins are somehow smaller, with bunk beds. The cinema costs only €7 instead of €11, but the filled baguettes cost €7.20. That's far too much for us, so we buy a delicious bag of crisps instead. At seven o'clock we're still not under way, even though departure was supposed to be at 6:30.
A bus driver is called back to the car deck. What could have happened? We finally set off an hour late, but the friendly Dutch voice over the speakers says they'll do their best to make up the time.
Last day: Off home In the morning, around 7:30, a Dutch woman's voice wakes us and tells us with strange matter-of-factness that we'll arrive in Amsterdam/IJmuiden at about 1:45 p.m. Wait, weren't we meant to arrive at 9:30? Great! Since we'd planned to ride all the way home today—to Böblingen near Stuttgart—we'd better make plans for an overnight stop. So all we can do is sit out the more-than-four-hour delay and eat up the snacks Kik luckily brought along. Unfortunately, she'd been forbidden to bring the kitchen box into the cabin too, or we could have cooked something delicious now.
At some point, luckily, the ship stops rocking so violently. We get off at 2 p.m., fill up quickly and then head into the traffic jam. For some reason, the whole of Holland is suffering from homemade stop-and-go traffic today, thanks to pointless speed limits of 70 and 50 km/h. Naturally, we get lost again because Markus has a map, but it isn't folded properly in the tank bag. After three hours, we've covered about 140 km. This is going to take a while! Eventually the traffic flows better, and we make another little detour because Cologne sounds nicer on the signs than Venlo, which was actually the right way. It doesn't matter now anyway. Despite several predictions of terrible rain, we don't get wet at all. Our bottoms hurt; we want to go home! We look at the clock in Böblingen and are completely surprised: 11:40 p.m. That went quite quickly after all. Off to bed, and goodbye…
