Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1764

Printer-friendly version
The Daily Dormouse.
(aka Bike)
Part 1764
by Angharad

Copyright © 2012 Angharad
All Rights Reserved.
  
-Dormouse-001.jpg

Despite getting a flight over to Paris, by the time we’d checked in to our hotel, the Há´tel Ritz, it was too late to get to Chartres for the individual time trial. So instead we had a light meal and a walk along the river.

Then we wandered along part of the course including in front of the Louvre, the museum and art gallery which featured in the Da Vinci Code. We looked at the glass pyramid just like the guy, Robert Langdon, from the film did, though personally, I didn’t think Mary Magdalene was buried there.

We watched them doing the final preparations for the race for a little while, just enjoying being on our own. However, I called home and David assured me that Catherine was fine–she gurgled down the phone to me and laughed when I spoke to her. I also called Julie who told me they were having an ace time, and she’d met this really nice bloke called, Miguel. I then rang Henry and he roared with laughter, the little cow had set me up–it was all a fiction. I’ll kill her when they get home.

We changed and had dinner at the hotel. This was the same one that Diana and Dodi had gone from when they were so tragically killed in the road traffic accident in Paris in 1997. I mused on this while we were waiting for our first course, but I didn’t share it with Simon, who might think I was complaining. I wasn’t simply orienting myself in this lovely old and deliciously expensive hotel, which boasts amongst its guests Ernest Hemmingway who stayed there for some time, and the fashion designer, Coco Chanel.

Both have an interest for me, I’ve read a few of Hemmingway’s novels though found his romantic view of the Spanish Civil war a serious contrast to Orwell’s Homage to Catalonia, which was written as a biographical experience of the war from the rebel’s point of view. Orwell was badly injured in the war, being shot in the throat.

My head was reeling all this history and places or people to see or think about and we watched Brad Wiggin’s time trial, where he was again the stage winner. His lead was unassailable barring some disaster like an accident or sudden illness, he would be crowned King of the Tour, tomorrow after the final stage into Paris.

We spent the morning after an early breakfast of eggs on toast, cereal and fruit juice, and snaffling an apple and a banana for emergency supplies, walking round the streets of Paris, along with thousands of others. There were Union Jacks aplenty as Brits gathered near the turn just below the Arc de Triomphe. We chatted with some of them–they’d come from all over, some planning it for months, others getting on the Eurostar and arriving that morning to be part of the historic achievement of Team Sky. Some weren’t even bike racing fans, but wanted to share the moment, especially as the Sky riders had announced they wanted to set up Cav for a crack at making it four in a row–four wins on this stage, that is.

We had a lunch in a street cafe and suitably fortified went off to find our seats–yeah, we had seats near the finish line–okay, sometimes it pays to have a few quid. If it was any consolation to those standing against the barriers down the road, the seats were damned uncomfortable.

We followed the course of the stage on the big screens and when they entered Paris, led by Team Sky, they allowed George Hincapie to lead the procession as it was his final tour and he returns to the States to deal with the Armstrong investigation.

Suddenly Jens Voigt decided to make a play for the stage and we watched as others joined his breakaway and the gap grew to thirty seconds. I could hardly bear to watch as it seemed the peloton would never catch them, and Cavendish’s blistering pace wouldn’t be seen.

They did eight circuits and it was on the penultimate that the sprint teams took control, pulled back the breakaways and set themselves in train for the climax. I gasped as we watched the yellow jersey lead out the Sky train down the Rue de Rivoli, for Boasson Hagen to take on the job and release the Manx Missile.

Cavendish went early and once they lit the blue touch paper the result was inevitable, no one could catch him though the likes of Sagan and Goss had a good try, and Cav got his fourth in a row sprint wins on the Champs Elysées, and his third of this tour.

I was jumping up and down and shrieking like a banshee for him to win while Simon was trying to pretend he wasn’t with me–so, I like my cycle racing–and I show my enthusiasm–volubly.

He did forgive me and I sat quietly while they made the presentations and stood as Lesley Garret sang God Save the Queen while wearing a dress which looked as if it had been made from a stolen flag–perhaps it had–anyway she sang it better than I could. I was naturally more casually dressed in some denim shorts and a tee shirt with a discreet Union Jack on it, and a TdF baseball cap, Simon bought me. I was glad to keep the sun out of my eyes, so it was doubly appreciated.

We waited while Team Sky did a ride up and down the road waving flags and applauded Wiggo’s achievement–and it was one, and he seemed really down to earth about it. His spontaneous address to the crowd afterwards was quite funny, about they were going to draw the raffle prizes and then he added, don’t drink too much and a safe journey home. A very British understatement and reaction to claiming the largest prize in cycling.

Simon and I wandered back to the Há´tel Ritz and I had a bath while he consumed a Pimms. We cuddled for a bit and I think I might have fallen asleep when he prodded me and told me to make myself beautiful as he’d booked a table in the Imperial dining room, which is apparently the place to eat.

The food was brilliant and I had to resist the sweets with great determination, they looked so mouth-watering. In the end after much pressure from Si, I had a sorbet to shut him up while he stuffed himself with gateau–this on top of a lobster thermidor–of which I accused him of murder. I had wonderful lamb dish and he retaliated by asking how they’d got the sheep in the oven for my dinner.

We had a couple of glasses of wine followed by coffees and then we went up to the room. To say I felt replete would be an understatement–I was so full, I felt stuffed to the gills, from the knees upwards.

We changed and lay on the bed cuddling and dozing and I thanked Simon for such a lovely weekend. Then we made love or tried to, but we were both still too full to feel athletic enough to actually consummate the holiday.

Then just as we began to get it together my mobile rang, I answered it despite Simon’s protests because it was Trish’s phone calling me.

“Hello, darling...” I started.

Julie’s voice interrupted, “Er, Houston we have a problem...”

05Dolce_Red_l_0.jpg

up
236 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

Well

Not another evil cliffhanger, wander what Trish has done this time

Ah!

Just five little words and ...

Here we go again.

Why is she using Trish's phone!?

Still lovin it Ang, can't help it.

OXOXOX

Bev.

bev_1.jpg

Problem?

Besides Julie using Trish's phone, one should ask where are Cathy's in-laws? You think they'd be the ones to phone if a problem arose - unless they couldn't.

PB

That was truely evil

I relaxing day, a British TDF win, good dinner, now.....

Is Julie an Apollo 13 fan? Strange that she'd use that phrase.

WELL I say Also!

Tpyical Angharad - Got to put a cliffhanger in there somewhere! Only real difference between that piece of Lamb is when its on your plate it doesn't look alive when you stick the fork and knive into it!

Richard

The actual words Frank Lovel said were...

Houston we had a problem.

But then Hollywood rarely gets it right.

Congrads to Wiggo and the British team.

And as to Armstrong... cut it out. The man only has one testicle.

These charges are ones investigated and dismissed some years ago AND if they stick given how many others have been charged or caught doping some paper boy in Nebraska will end up as the Tour De France winner for those years and even he may be guilty of doping.

Cycling has a dark past and that is the sad history of ilicit drug use.

So sad this cloud hangs over an otherwise fine sport.

John in Wauwatosa

P.S. Why Livies phone?????

John in Wauwatosa

Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 1764

Well, considering Julie's wind up and Henry's roar of laughter, I am thinking that they are setting up things so that Cathy will visit the island dormice population.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

You went and did it!!!

No, you couldn't resist could you. You had to go an leave us tottering on the cliff did you. You'd think by know that you'd remember the rule against cliff hangers. Seriously.

I know - I'll just erase that line or two. :-)

But, the rest of the story... Fascinating. Thank you. Good thing Cathy "over packed" so she had something appropriate to wear to that last dinner.

Thank you,
Annette

I Was Cheering Too

High drama in the TDF today complete with a satisfying result. Thanks for today's episode and all the others since I last said thank you.

The cliff? Not so much.

Hmmmmmmmm

Julie using Trish's phone? It is either a serious problem, or a setup to get Cathy and Simon with the kids and grandparents.
And.....is Simon involved in this setup, if there is one?

Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?

Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm

Actually prefer Katherine Jenkins.

I think that Katherine Jenkins does a much better rendition of GSTQ myself. Somewhere, she sings with Antonio Banderas who just makes me gasp for air.

Oh Dear, I wonder that Houston has to confront now...

Gwendolyn

Ya Know...

I'm growing rather fond of the cliff dwelling lifeforms hereabouts... Damned odd thing really, given that around here they'd have to build a cliff...

Thanks!

Battery.jpg

I like Leslie Garret ...

... but her singing of the national anthem (which doesn't even mention the nation) was a disaster almost as great as that awful skirt. Brad's expression as she sang was more pain the pleasure, I think. IMO the only national anthem worth hearing the words is the Marseillaise, which is disturbingly stirring even from this side of the Channel.

I'm not sure about Cathy's screaming but SWMBO and I could scarce forbear to cheer as Wiggins and Boassen-Hagen launched the World Champion up to the finish line. Now we're left with sports pages almost bereft of cycling for another year.

Now to more important issues. Why is Julie using Trish's phone? Does even Angharad know? She makes it up as she goes along, I'm sure ... and none the worse for that.

Robi

Could Julie

be trying to say somthing to warn Cathy they have a problem that she cannot tell her about because someone is listening .... I have no idea who or what it might be, Its just that Julie's opening words seemed a little strange .... Maybe its something and nothing and Angharad has had us all dangling off a cliff by our fingertips for nothing.... But surely Angharad is far too nice a lady to do that... Isn't she ?

Kirri