onionbagblog
Au Revoir
The Big Day for the Big Loop as Le Tour landed in Londres on Friday evening; Le Grand Depart descended on the capital. Of course all opening ceremonies are shit, and Le Tour's was no exception. A little harsh, but it's the cycling equivalent of Christmas Eve. Sod the preparation - bring on the peddles.
On the plus side though it wasn't pissing it down in Trafalgar Square. For forty days and forty nights we have been under siege. The one thing that any seasoned cyclist hates more than Michael Hodges is the rain.
The centre stage in front of the National Gallery was transformed into a big bike lane. Being London, I bet it was full of broken glass as well.
Bike racks were in abundance. But only for the VIP knobbers, most of which weren't cycling anyway. Bizarrely they were escorted to their posh seats with the protection of a personal umbrella carrier. Something to do with the sun, not the rain. It all looked a little silly to me.
Being a celebration of Entente Cordial hospitality, the ceremony had to carry something of the culture form either side of the Channel. The boring Brits did the bike history lesson stuff, whilst our party loving Parisian friends put on some French breakdancers.
The history lesson was actually alright. This was the second time that I had sat through the lecture, having previously listened to the world's leading social bike historian on a visit to the Velodrome with the school kids last month.
No interruptions from Boy Y on Friday evening, asking 'how much could I sell your penny farthing for, just supposing I found it in the street?'
The truly heroic Geoff Thomas team made an appearance, cycling the entire Tour for the second time, starting two days behind the big boys.
A fashion show of sorts then followed, with various styles of bikes being paraded on stage. The 'proudest moments of Le Tour' were shown on the big screens. Wot no Floyd Landis from last year?
Kuddly Ken worked the crowd with his vision for London as Cycling City. He was preaching to the converted of course, and you can't but help feel that Le Tour in London was second on Ken's agenda, after he failed to bring F1 to the capital.
And then it was over to the big boys. Each team was wheeled out, with a few brief words from the lead riders. Bradley Wiggins got a hero's welcome; David Millar seems to be the (just about) acceptable face of cycling once again after servng his drugs ban.
El Diablo stole the show for me. Standing right behind me, the legendary German Devil of Le Tour was creating more media interest than some of the domestiques.
A strange end to the evening when a Shoreditch type tart asked if she could take a photograph of my hands. Nothing to do with my smooth complexion, but she claimed to be a fashion student and had taken a shine to my cycling gloves.
Yeah yeah luv, that old chestnut. I traded a similar compliment about her fishnet stockings, but she called for security when I started to take pictures of them.
Some urban nonsense R 'n B rounded off the evening. This was my cue to cycle back down to the Beautiful South and gorge myself stupid on gel bars. It's going to be an exhausting and exhilarating weekend ahead.
Chapeau!
technorati: le grand depart
| Friday 6 July, 2007 |
The Big Day for the Big Loop as Le Tour landed in Londres on Friday evening; Le Grand Depart descended on the capital. Of course all opening ceremonies are shit, and Le Tour's was no exception. A little harsh, but it's the cycling equivalent of Christmas Eve. Sod the preparation - bring on the peddles.
 Wot no Floyd Landis? |
The centre stage in front of the National Gallery was transformed into a big bike lane. Being London, I bet it was full of broken glass as well.
Bike racks were in abundance. But only for the VIP knobbers, most of which weren't cycling anyway. Bizarrely they were escorted to their posh seats with the protection of a personal umbrella carrier. Something to do with the sun, not the rain. It all looked a little silly to me.
Being a celebration of Entente Cordial hospitality, the ceremony had to carry something of the culture form either side of the Channel. The boring Brits did the bike history lesson stuff, whilst our party loving Parisian friends put on some French breakdancers.
The history lesson was actually alright. This was the second time that I had sat through the lecture, having previously listened to the world's leading social bike historian on a visit to the Velodrome with the school kids last month.
No interruptions from Boy Y on Friday evening, asking 'how much could I sell your penny farthing for, just supposing I found it in the street?'
The truly heroic Geoff Thomas team made an appearance, cycling the entire Tour for the second time, starting two days behind the big boys.
A fashion show of sorts then followed, with various styles of bikes being paraded on stage. The 'proudest moments of Le Tour' were shown on the big screens. Wot no Floyd Landis from last year?
Kuddly Ken worked the crowd with his vision for London as Cycling City. He was preaching to the converted of course, and you can't but help feel that Le Tour in London was second on Ken's agenda, after he failed to bring F1 to the capital.
And then it was over to the big boys. Each team was wheeled out, with a few brief words from the lead riders. Bradley Wiggins got a hero's welcome; David Millar seems to be the (just about) acceptable face of cycling once again after servng his drugs ban.
El Diablo stole the show for me. Standing right behind me, the legendary German Devil of Le Tour was creating more media interest than some of the domestiques.
A strange end to the evening when a Shoreditch type tart asked if she could take a photograph of my hands. Nothing to do with my smooth complexion, but she claimed to be a fashion student and had taken a shine to my cycling gloves.
Yeah yeah luv, that old chestnut. I traded a similar compliment about her fishnet stockings, but she called for security when I started to take pictures of them.
Some urban nonsense R 'n B rounded off the evening. This was my cue to cycle back down to the Beautiful South and gorge myself stupid on gel bars. It's going to be an exhausting and exhilarating weekend ahead.
Chapeau!
technorati: le grand depart
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