Wachtebeke

But first, I would like to pay my respects to my great aunt Ruth, who passed away last weekend. She has had a rough trot over the last 30 years and kept hanging on, until finally it all caught up to her. I'll always remember her great sense of humour - she could be quite cutting sometimes without you realising. RIP Aunty Ruth, I'll miss you.

Wake up Wachtebeke

I was convinced to do this race, as it was my last chance before Le Tour. Wachtebeke is about 20 km northeast of Gent, and the last two times I raced there (in 1999) I did quite well. The course was a bit different - only 6 km per lap, but also only five or six corners. There was enough wind to make it interesting but not enough that position was crucial. The start time was at 6pm for 19 laps, and it was still fairly warm.

Alas, I punctured about 5 minutes before the start, and I am now completely jack of tubulars. Fortunately, Dave Treacy and his girlfriend Mel where there, along with Andrew Benson's begeleider (who is called Brent) and I managed to get a nine speed wheel from them (they'd given their spare 10 speed to another guy who punctured). Last time I saw Dave and Mel was on New Year's Eve, when Mel had to give me a lift home from Sutherland because I punctured about three times.

47 starters, which wasn't bad for a Monday race, and I noticed a guy in green with huge, bulging leg muscles and braces on his teeth, for chrissakes. Dearie me, what has he been eating? The first break of about six went away on the first corner. There seemed to be a bit of blocking going on in front of the bunch, so the leaders got a decent gap. Dave was up there, which was good...until he punctured out of the break and, um, didn't have a spare wheel. Sorry Dave, I definitely owe you a few now!

The next disaster to hit me was on about the second lap when I hit a big bump and dropped my rear bottle. Argh!! Bloody cages. I had to keep going of course and was going to see how far I could get on one bottle, but then I spied Brent at the feed zone and told him I'd dropped my bottle, and even though I'd dropped it about 1 km away, he said he had it! That was incredibly fortuitous, and he handed it back to me with expert precision on the next lap. Obviously he has learned a trick or two over the last year.

Things got cranking in the bunch, and after spending the first few laps near the rear, I opted to move up and partake in the action. I felt very good, and could close a few gaps at 60 km/h as Christophe Bracke and Guy Smet tried to get a bit of momentum happening. We were rapidly closing in on the break, but after about 6 laps, a group of about 15 split off and I totally missed it. There were about 20 of us left chasing at 30-40 seconds, and in the interests of not giving up, I did a lot of work in front to keep the speed up. Fortunately, the others hadn't all thrown in the towel, so after about four laps of chasing, we regained contact with the lead group.

I was still feeling good, so I threaded my way through towards the front because I knew it would split again, but I wasn't quite far enough up when we hit the long tailwind straight and Bracke and Smet led a group of 12 off the front. I was maybe six or seven wheels back, and I know I could have followed the attack today. Oh well, once they were gone, the chasing oomph went out of the bunch, especially as some of the stronger guys had teammates in front. Guy Smet's bro Kris would mark any bridging attempt, so everything failed.

But there was 13th place to go for, and I made sure I didn't fall back past the top 10, so that I wouldn't miss the next moves. I didn't make too many attacks, but I followed most of them and was always prepared to roll through to get something happening. It was a good tactic, as after another four laps or so, we had it down to a group of 13, most of us working. I wasn't quite sure how many were in front but I did hear someone say 'twalf' so that was good. We were all reasonably cooked, but a few of us, especially the other Aussie and South African, kept rolling through to keep the rest from coming back.

I don't think I missed any of the small attacks that went in the last two laps, but everything came back, alas. With about 2 km to go, I was on the front and one guy took a flyer and was away. I waited for someone to come round me but they couldn't be arsed, so that was 13th place gone. Eventually I could drift back and try my Cunning Plan of attacking with 1 km to go, maybe even bridging up to the guy who was clear. But when I went, Mr Braces and Kris Smet followed me, and although we had gapped the rest, there was no way they were coming through for a turn. There was also no way I was going to drag their sorry arses to the finish, so I sat up. I was a bit stuffed anyway, and when everyone came past at 500 to go, I just got on the back and rolled in for 22nd. The result was OK (not great), but for me the race was very good. I spent the majority of it in the front bit of whatever bunch I was in, and didn't really blow.

Afterwards I saw Reinhard Vanspeybroeck of the Great Australian Bite pie shop in Walpoortstraat, which I will go and visit this evening, being my last Night Off for quite some time. He reckons it's picking up well, which is great to hear. He's been at it for a year now and survived, so good on him. I shall look forward to sampling some of his wares very shortly...

I got home last night at 10pm, and didn't get to sleep until 3am. Had to do some work and thought I might as well take advantage of the fact that I was going to be awake for that long anyway.

Playing for England

I have to say that London was much better this time around. Last time I was there was in 1998 and I felt a bit oppressed by it all. Crap weather, being sick, and having just got off the plane from Sunny Oz didn't help. Anyway, this flying visit partly made up for that. One thing is for sure, there's a hell of a lot to do in London.

It takes about 3.5 hours to get from Gent - Brussels - London on the Eurostar, which is not much longer than going from Sydney to Nelson Bay! It's fairly painless too, and checking in doesn't take long at all. But it wasn't so much the distance that has prevented me from going there, it was trying to get people to cover for me at work. Nearly impossible to do in June, but The Others all pitched in and I got a full two days off. Most excellent. Well, they get to do the Tour, so I don't feel too bad.

The excuse I had for going was to go to a Eurosport soiree to celebrate their coverage of the Tour. It was in the Bleeding Heart, a nice French restauraaaaa in Farringdon, so after hooking up with meine liebe schwester Lucy for a spot of afternoon tea and a lightning tour of her place of employ, I navigated my way back to Battersea to drop stuff off, then back up to Farringdon via the North Circular. London public transport is extremely good, and you rarely have to wait more than 5 minutes for a tube/bus. It's also fairly cheap, with a day travelpass costing £4.70 (I think it's more if you buy it at the beginning of the day), or you can use an Oyster card that you put money on, or you can pay the old fashioned way. Taxis are ubiquitous, but reasonably expensive. Even if you don't go via the North Circular.

Most of the crowd at the Eurosport thing were from the British press, and I think I came from the furthest away to be present. I only knew a couple of people there (Dave Duffield and Phil Liggett), but by the end of the evening I knew a few more and had imbibed a bit of the good ole' social lubricant. The theme was wine and cheese, and there were samples from a number of different stages of the Tour. It's all a bit of a blur, but we started with champagne as a sort of prologue, then went onto various parts of France. I think I started with some weird white from the deep south, which I didn't care for much, but then I got to a Pinot Blanc and a large bottle of Côtes de Rhône, which was somewhat better. There was some Bergerac too, and I think I ended up oscillating between the latter two, with a few others recommended by the sommelier thrown in for good measure.

I noticed a table full of Rosé, and Dave from News International encouraged me to try it. But, I declined. The Jacob's Creek Unlimited Release Rosé (January 2005 vintage) has left a deep scar. Eight bottles of that and you're really finished. And I was trying not do overdo it, but the rest of the wine was so good... By the end of the evening, everyone else had cracked except me and the hard core Eurosport crowd, who invited me to their post-soiree dinner which consisted of a quiche and more wine and cheese. That managed to fill the remaining gap, and we shuffled out of the Bleeding Heart at approx. midnight and I was told that I'd probably missed the last tube so I'd better get a cab home. I was in no state to argue with that suggestion and thankfully the cab driver knew how to get to Sabine Road better than I did, for the sum of 18 quid (about 45 Aussie bucks). Lucy was mildly shocked that I caught a cab, as she reckons by far the cheapest way is the tube or bus. I know now exactly how Bazza McKenzie felt.

Lucy checks out the Houses of Parliament across the mighty Thames

A Gherkin/Rocket Ship/Billy Cart. And the Tower of London in the foreground.

I woke up about 5 hours later, probably because of the light, then got up after I heard someone crashing downstairs. Turned out it was Martin's partner Sara, who was just off to work, but I did meet her for 30 seconds! Then collapsed on the couch with a glass of water, feeling somewhat...seedy. Wine does that. But after brekky (gotta have those blueberries) I was OK again and prepared to greet the day. I caught up with my cousin Martin, MP for Battersea, and he was his usual self although he had his hand in a cast after falling off his bike a last week. Then I started work on Lucy's recently acquired girly bike, which is a substitute for her nicer Peugeot that got stolen last week :-( It needed new tubes and the seat moved up, and seeing as all the bolts were rusty we needed to pay a visit to a bike shop and a hardware shop to buy the necessary implements. There is nothing that a shifting spanner and a hammer can't do, although we couldn't budge the seatpost that was frozen into the frame, so Lucy had to be content with a super low-rider position.

Lucy cruises in front of the Guildhall on her lowrider

I borrowed Sara's bike for the day, which was actually OK for height even though she's shorter than Lucy. Then we set off for a very cool tour of London, starting with the Thames path (many people) and going via the London Eye (big ferris wheel), Tate Modern (didn't go in), Tower Bridge (had an ice cream), Tower (didn't go in but admired the moat), up to the Guildhall and St. Paul's (did go in but didn't want to fork out 8 quid to see it all), and lunch in the tiny Postmans Park, which is apparently the same park used in the movie Closer. It's quite cool, and has a memorial wall with painted tiles dedicated to people who have lost their lives while saving others, mainly between 1850 and 1930. Each tile describes the person who died, how old they were, and who they saved while losing their lives. It's a very nice and moving tribute to them.

The memorial tiles in Postmans Park

Buck Hice, keep ite

Post-lunch, we cruised around to Buck Hice (Buckingham Palace), St. James Park, Whitehall, where guards stand all day and get their picture taken, then back through Belgravia and Chelsea along Kings Road, over the Albert Bridge, into Battersea Park, complete with Peace Pagoda, then back home four and a half hours later. It was such a great way to see London, and the good thing is that the government has introduced a congestion charge for city traffic, which has cut it down enormously. It's not quiet, but it is pleasant to ride around the centre, and you don't get abused or harassed like you do in Sydney. Lots of people ride, and Lucy is pretty handy on the bike now, even a low-rider. She was gapping me on the hills!

We had a fairly solid evening planned, starting at a moderately swish lounge called Browns at Angel/Islington. That was suggested by Pete, Lucy's new bloke, who is a nice Scottish/Yorkshire long-haired bikie, and lives sort of on the Thames. Lucy and I had a Staropramen (Czech beer, not bad, and thankfully it was cold) while we sprawled in the leather couches and waited for Pete, then Carolyn and Mandy Forbes, to turn up. It was extremely cool to see the Forbes' girls (daughters of my former piano teacher) after something like 13 years, as Carolyn would have been about 13 and Mandy 10. Carolyn is now working in the sound archive of the British library and singing in a folk band and Mandy is a rising opera star. It's funny the things you remember, but she used to sing "Queen of the Night" while on the loo, and made her Covent Garden debut with that same number...

After a few more Leffes, Staropramens and general catching up, we rocked on to dinner up the road. I was a little hesitant, but we settled for Turkish at one of the three Gallipoli restaurants within about 200m of each other. I think it was the middle one, Cafe Gallipoli Bazaar or something. Not bad, and we didn't have any döner kebabs, so I won't need that bypass operation just yet. It was an uproarious meal with four Aussies in close proximity, olive pips going out the window, and Pete was probably a bit bemused by it all. But we're not often in the majority in Europe, so we have to make the most of it. Three of Mandy's friends also turned up, including her boy Dave (who became Dazza by the end of the meal) and another Aussie from Tassie. In fact, I think they were all a bit bemused. Strangely, none of them joined us for a post-dinner drink at the Kings Head, which was the next pub up the road and it had live jazz.

All of us had sore heads the next day - a sure sign of a good evening - although I felt much better than I did after Monday night. That was essentially it and I got the Eurostar back to Belgium on Wednesday morning, ready to rock again.

It was a very fine trip!

Why bother dressing up for such a boring job?

Clearly, this is London

Planning my next heist

St Bart's, somewhere in London

Postmans Park, where we had our M&S luncheon

St Pauls. People are sitting on the steps because it costs 8 quid to get in.

Me on the Tower Bridge

Lucy on the Tower Bridge

The mighty Thames again, from the Tower Bridge

On the Tower Bridge, with Lucy speeding off into the distance

Central Markets. Empty. Quelle blow.

The infamous Millenium Bridge

That looks familar, meaning that we haven't actually gone that far.

Me with my funky helmet and borrowed bike in front of the Eye on London or London's Eye or Private Eye or Golden Eye something

Caaaaarn Jeff

Strike a pose

Looking back down the mighty Thames towards the Albert Bridge

The Peace Pagoda in Battersea Park

Continuance

IX. It's 32 degrees today = hot.

X. I fixed the horrible creak in my crank. It was driving me, and probably everyone else on Saturday, nuts. Turned out that the left crank just needed a bit of allen key work, and it's all good now.

XI. Berchem was good, given that it was such a nice day. The usual suspects were there: Eddy, Guido, Guy Callens, Hubert, Jantie, Versmessen, Geert d'Hondt, etc. About 20 all up, although Guido had ridden 210 km on Saturday so he was a bit sore. It was a good tempo early on, and I took turns sitting on the back then doing a few km of work, as you do. There were about 10 of us left after the long false flat up from Tournai, and we stuck together until just before Frasnes, when Geert attacked after the main road crossing. I followed him, mainly because I'd been on the front, and we had a little gap coming into Frasnes. Of course, being the klutz that I am, I dropped my nearly empty bidon, slowed to get it, but then thought better of it and rejoined Geert. Guy and Eddy were driving the bunch though, and we got caught a few km later.

Then it was only a few more km before the climb between Frasnes and Lahamaide, and I decided to ride up there at a solid tempo to see who had the legs today. Guy Callens got my wheel, and I didn't ask him to do a turn this time. I thought Eddy and Guido would be there for sure but I looked back at the top and couldn't see anyone, so decided to continue with Guy, who is great to have in a break because he's so big.

So we swapped off, with me doing all the uphills and Guy contributing a fair bit on the other sections. When we hit the turnoff onto the main road to Flobecq, I could see the bunch had regrouped and was only about 20 seconds behind us. Hmm, better step on the gas a bit...through Flobecq and up over the Chapel climb and then to Quatre Vents, where Guy did a total of one turn, but that was OK. He started working again after we crossed the N48, and the two of us just kept going to the finish. I wasn't going to attack him and he thanked me for it at the end. No worries - he did a fair bit too!

Guido came in next at 2'00+/- and went to the cafe for a few restorative ales. I went home via the Coke machine in Oudenaarde, and that helped enormously. I'd still lost 3.5 kg in fluid by the time I got home!

XII. London here we come!!

Whassup

A fair bit on this week, but not much time to write. A summary:

I. The Weather is Good. 25-30 and sun! About bloody time.

II. Raced at Belsele on Tuesday, mainly because it was one of the last races I could do before the Tour. It was not a successful outing - 90 starters, 17 corners per 8.5 km lap (15 laps - that's a lot of corners), and already on the second lap there were splits forming. I closed a few of them, moved up a bit, then on lap 5 a whole group of riders just sat up in front of me and it was all over. That's what you get for hanging down the back sometimes. Pulled out after 50 km and chatted with Cody from the CN team, who'd pulled out at the same time. We watched CN's Dan Newnham and Henry Uys suffer for the rest of it, and Goncaras just riding everyone off his wheel to win.

III. Proximus is trying my patience, cutting off my phone after I didn't pay a huge phone bill from March. It took me ages to track down the source of the large bill, but apparently when I was in France, my phone was trying to automatically connect to the internet and failing. Price for each failure: €1.20. That added up. I didn't even know it was doing it! I have protested, and it's "pending". Grr.

IV. Tomas Vaitkus is a big strong unit. On Thursday he led out the Schelde sprint with about 1 km to go, and I was in my 53x12 just trying to follow. Darren Young jumped with about 250m to go, but Vaitkus just got out of the saddle and powered away. Even Matt Gilmore couldn't get around. I was behind them, spinning out (for me) my 12 at 63 km/h. Jeez. One occasion where an 11 would have been handy.

V. I had a visitation from Hippy (Stuart Birnie), who is from Melbourne and has sent us a few pics in the past. He emailed me to say he was in Belgium and I said drop round, so he did on Friday evening. I was bloody busy but I could take a couple of hours out for a beer, no worries. Especially as he brought the beer. Breaks the monotony.

V. Saturday (today). Matt Gilmore is honing his form for the European track championships, I think. Today we got away on the Molenberg and he was the main motor. Trap Op in 4'52 (37 km/h) with six of us following. On the way back along the Schelde, I dropped 40 euros while fishing around in my pocketssess, so had to bow out of the group while I reclaimed my cash. It was hard just pulling turns!

VI. Berchem tomorrow, then London to see Lucy and co. on Monday-Wednesday. That should be a lot of larx. Finally I can get over there again - first time since 1998, despite the fact that I've been living about 2.5 hours away for the last few years. But I have enough support now on the work front to do it.

VII. I will have to contact Andrew Benson's begeleider to pick up a few tips on begeleiding, as I have been commissioned on a not-for-profit basis to hand bottles to Rebecca next weekend at an MTB race in Brakel. I did manage to get a bottle to Henry Uys (it was almost an afterthought, and very low down) in the race in Belsele the other day, so I'm not a complete loss in that dept.

VIII. Go the Aussies in the Tour de Suisse!

Zegebloemen

Zegebloemen. Could be handy.


I think this is a first for me: winning flowers in a bike race. In Australia, you get money, occasionally a trophy or a medal, but very rarely flowers. I hasten to add that the LFT race at Kruishoutem is a couple of levels down from your average kermis, but it's fun to do. I'll have to go back to the Saturday Schelde rides now, or they'll get sick of me! Maybe do a couple more of these for training.

The weather was better than last week in that it wasn't raining and the wind wasn't quite as strong. It was a crosswind on both front and back straights with a tail and headwind over each of the bridges. We had more starters - over 40 I think - and I didn't spot the guy who beat me last week, although Mr US National T-Mobile team jersey was there, and a couple of the other guys who were in our little break last week.

My Cunning Plan A was to attack after about 5 laps and ride away alone. I didn't have a Cunning Plan B. Unfortunately, Cunning Plan A fell into a bit of a hole, because the speed was a lot higher this time (we were six minutes quicker than last week), and in true Belgian style, the break went after 200m. At the end of lap 1, there were five guys with about 10-15 seconds, and two more bridged up to them on the second lap.

I thought the bunch might bring them back, but the chasing was very stop/start and no-one wanted to close the gap. On the straight at the end of the third lap, everyone slowed down and the seven in front started to ride away. Sigh. It was already 20 seconds and I knew we'd have a bit of work to do to catch them, so I went hard going into the corner before the first bridge, lost about a minute taking the corner at a stupidly low speed, then accelerated as hard as I could over the bridge.

At the top, I saw I had two companions, including a younger guy in Quick.Step gear who I knew from last week, and we rapidly picked up a fourth guy who had tried to get across on his own. He'd also lost his bottle on the first lap, and asked me for a drink when we caught him. Happy to oblige, although I don't know what he thought of my cold tea and water! He was a bit useless anyway, because whenever he'd do a turn, we'd lose a lot of speed.

It took us two laps of fairly hard chasing to latch onto the leaders, and that meant we were at Lap 5. Prudently, I decided against executing Cunning Plan A, and instead opted to roll with the break. We had a really nice, smooth rhythm going, and all 11 of us were working. You don't get that often in a kermis, unless you're in the front group. Then I realised I was in the front group.

I now had Doubts about executing any Cunning Plans at all, because the cooperation was so good and the average speed was over 40 without us working particularly hard. I knew I could average about that alone, so it was gunna be tricky. I was also embarrassingly bad around some of the corners until later on in the race when I stopped using the brakes. Not easy when there's gravel and large grooves in the middle of the corner. All the others seemed to be confident.

The 1 hour point is always a critical time in a race, because the speed tends to drop a notch as people get tired. In pro racing, it's often when the break of the day is established, and in kermis racing, it's usually when the break has gone but the bunch has decided to stop chasing so hard. Thus, I thought it would be a good time to attack after an hour or so. The peloton was at 1'10-1'20, and definitely not coming back.

I actually waited another lap in order to refuel on some dextro-energy tablets - probably a waste of time in a race this short - and then took off on the first (tailwind) bridge again with about 3.5 laps to go. I had half an idea that this would cause a bit of a split in our break, then I could attack a smaller group later on. But no, I looked around on the other side of the bridge and saw that no-one had reacted at all, and the group of 10 was still together. C'est la vie. Now to execute the latter part of Cunning Plan A.

At three laps to go, I had about 15 seconds but I was quite worried that the Others would ride a bit harder and pull me back. Took on board some more dextro-energy tablets and cold tea and nearly hurled, because it's hard to eat when your HR is 93% of max. I still had 15 seconds at the end of the next lap, so that was good.

On the second last lap I started to die as the tablets tried to digest themselves - I don't think I'll bother with them if there is a next time. I lost a few km/h and had about 10 seconds coming into the final lap. Fortunately, the tablets did their job and I picked up several more km/h on the final lap and I could feel that it would be sufficient. I got to the top of the second bridge with about 1.5 km to go, looked back and saw the group had only just taken the corner at the bottom, so that was a good 30 seconds. Good.

I was rapidly catching one of the grades in front of me and I didn't want to interfere with their sprint (they actually had another lap to go), so I slowed right down and sat 20 m off the back coming into the straight, checked that the Others weren't coming back, and rolled across the line with a very, very modest wave. Well, it made up for last week!

So I got some flowers and three kisses from the organiser's wife, which was very nice. Also got quite a few "proficiats" from the other guys in the break, who agreed that I'd attacked too early. And Andrew Benson's begeleider (sorry, I still haven't got his name) as well, who asked me before the race if I was going to win. I'd told him I'd try!

We rode back to Gent together and he admitted to me that he did have a problem with his weight, and if he lost 30 kilos he'd actually be competitive. I do feel sorry for him, because he's only a kid and he should not be that large. He knows it and is fully aware that it'll lead to health issues when he's 50. At least he races, and he did 90 km today so that's gotta burn off a few Big Macs. He said his problem was junk food (his school is almost right next to McDonalds) and a very undisciplined diet, even though he does eat salads. I suggested that he eat a more balanced diet with lots of veggies and keeps riding. Lots. 30 kg = 255,000 calories = about 15,000 km. Holy hell. That's the excess that he needs to burn off, providing that he can keep the rest of his metabolism in balance.

I didn't tell him about my diet, which is quite balanced but also involves a fair amount of ice cream, beer and chocolate. But almost no fast food, because even I realise the dangers of eating Turkish döner kebabs. A home made curry seemed to work for me!

Sprinting for the experts

Or, how to finish third in a two-man sprint

I must first state that there was essentially no difference between finishing second and third, because only the winner got flowers and there was no cash. Racing at its purest - I love it. But I did manage to finish third in a two-man sprint, and that takes some doing!

On the urgings of Jules, who told me about the local race he does near Kruishoutem, I decided to give it a try today (Saturday). There were no kermises remotely close to me, and there are none next week either, so this presented a bit of a change from the Saturday morning Schelde ride.

It was a classic four-corner industrial park crit. A four kilometre circuit with two bridges over the E40 each lap, and a huge wind that was behind us down the main straight and against us up the back. It was about 25 km from Gent, all into the wind, but I got there with plenty of time to spare and to get rained on. Just a passing storm.

There was actually a pretty decent crowd there, and I signed up for my season licence and number, which costs €15, and paid another couple of euros for the entry. The dude organising it understood I was English, so he explained the rules to me in French. Dutch would have been OK, really! Anyway, there wasn't much that needed explaining: it was 15 laps for a total of 60 km, starting at 2pm.

Being a spring chicken of nearly 34, I got put in the A race, which was fine. We had about 30 starters, and after warming up by huddling out of the rain next to the organiser's car, we set off in the wet. I had no idea what to expect, although I was fairly sure that the level would be a bit lower than a kermiskoers. I noticed Andrew Benson's begeleider there too, which was a bit worrying. He seems to have expanded in size a bit around the waist region. He wasn't in my grade.

It wasn't only the fitness of the riders either, there was a big range in bike handling ability and all-round sketchiness, which combined with the powerful wind made for some interesting manoeuvring on the opening laps. Like the guy who wanted to come up through the right hand side of the bunch when the wind was coming from the right and there was of course no room. He should have saved himself and everyone else the bother by staying down the back.

I tried to keep out of trouble, and didn't worry about chasing any of the breaks that went, because they all seemed to come back despite the fact that we were only averaging 37 km/h for the first four laps. On lap 5, a more serious looking break went and I decided to stretch the legs a bit and get across to it. That lifted the average speed very quickly and we ended up with five with a nice rhythm, and I thought that might be the start of a selection.

But after a couple of laps, I looked back and the peloton had come back to us. Sigh. Sit back for a bit more and watch a different break go while trying to avoid crashing. At least the rain had stopped.

It was about the halfway point when I saw the new Famous Five up the road were getting away, and the bunch didn't really seem capable of pulling them back. One guy had just tried to bridge on his own, and as I've said in the past, a solo bridge attempt is bad because you need someone to play three dummy hands and you have to shield your thoughts from yourself otherwise you'll guess your next move.

So I made it easy for him. I moseyed on up to him at 55 km/h, this being the tailwind section, and forcefully urged him to get on my wheel as he was floundering a bit. I could have just blasted straight by him but this wasn't that sort of a race. He even managed to do a couple of turns and in half a lap, we had hooked onto the five leaders, which were now eight because we had caught the organiser and a few of his buddies.

That made it messy for a while until a dark blue rider did a fairly substantial turn along the finish straight and we blew everyone out the back, distilling the group down to six. Five of us were dressed in blue, which is all the rage these days. The other guy had a T-Mobile US national team jersey on, but it wasn't the Berchem dude.

Mr big-turn-in-the-53x12-dark-blue had had enough after that, and sat on for a while after doing a couple more turns. He was bloody strong and I thought he was plotting a massive attack, but after a few laps I looked back and he was gone. How odd. So we were down to five, including the kid I'd dragged across, Mr T-Mobile, and a couple of others.

We were now approaching the business end of the bike race, as the great Stuey Doyle would say. Two and a half laps to go, peloton nowhere in sight, we go over the top of one of the bridges and I decided to wind it up a bit with a stealth attack. It worked, because at the bottom I had a bit of a gap and I set about increasing it into the headwind. Unfortunately, I couldn't shake one guy who was holding me at 5 seconds for the rest of the lap. I tried, but he got me exactly one lap later. Dang.

The Others were nowhere to be seen, so we just cruised along for the last lap and a half. I didn't feel confident enough in attacking him again, as the element of surprise was lost, and we weren't working hard enough. So he led onto the finishing straight, and slowed...right down...to 20 km/h...put on the brakes a few times...look back...see we still have a decent gap...but the Others are winding up their sprint...more slowing...more brakes...he didn't want to lead out, and neither did I...we weren't close enough to the finish.

300 metres to go and he realises he'd better get his arse into gear as one of the Others is coming up to us at fast speed. I held his wheel as Mr T-Mobile blew by us, then my breakaway colleague drew level with him and got it on the line. Oh well, that saved some face for us I guess. What a way to squander a lead! In hindsight, he might have actually been waiting for the other guy to catch us so he could get a lead out. Nice.

Also in hindsight, it wouldn't have mattered if I'd led out or not, as I could barely hold this guy's wheel when he went. I looked at the speedo and it said 64 km/h, which is not bad from a slow wind-up, even with a tailwind. One of the few situations where an 11 cog would be handy. So no flowers for me, but it was fun all the same. It's a pleasant change being one of the stronger riders in the race! Maybe have another go next week...