It is ten in the morning, arrive at the country beer garden. All the tables have been decked for the day, but the only customers are the proprietor and his cronies, already drinking and playing cards. Two portly cyclists arrive on their electric steeds, and proceed to take a table too.
Order a glass of water and a portion of coffee, and a fresh doughnut. The doughnuts are a speciality here, and they really are good. The coffee is not special, but drinkable.
A chestnut falls from it's tree and strikes one of the cyclists, the one with the bald head. He screams, more in shock than anything else. The two cyclists talk for a few seconds, and then the other one goes to the bicycles and collects their helmets. Now they are both sitting there with their helmets on.
There is a grey cat here, she settles down beside the table and lets her head be scratched.
When all is done, pay and go.
Todays walk will be altogether thirty seven kilometres, it will be exhausting, and there is no need to go into detail now.
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