El Tour is over for another year, and I for one am glad. It's four weeks of very intense work, because it's like the world championships of journalism too. You can't afford to drop the ball, miss out on a story, or be slow with publishing results/reportage/pics. You'll be left behind otherwise.
The results were fairly predictable after stage 1. Not taking anything away from LA, who certainly knows how to win this bike race, but the others just didn't match up. Full credit to Vinokourov though. He rocks. His two late attacks + his long range attack in the Alps netted him two wins and a second place, and he made some potentially boring stages quite interesting. Hope he can do good at Liberty next year.
I reached a point of physical and mental exhaustion by the end of it that I don't think I've managed in the past. The physical exhaustion was partly self-inflicted, as Shane (the Irish guy who was helping me for the last two weeks) and I went to Gentsefeesten on Friday and Saturday night before going down to Paris on Sunday morning. Given that we didn't finish work until midnight on those nights, it wasn't a surprise that we didn't get home until 5:30am on Saturday morning, with a few hours of sleep before tackling the final TT. We went out again on Saturday night, didn't get back until 3am, but had to be up at 6 to catch our train to Paris. No wonder my voice was totally shot by then. Gentsefeest was amazing though.
On Sunday, I was a walking zombie, Philippe Gaumont-style, which was funny given what happened later on. We made it to Paris, tried to get a bit of sleep on the train, then found our hotel - the beauteous Ibis in La Defense, which was even more beauteous in the drizzling rain (Note the sarcasm). It is actually hideous. We got out at the final stop (under the arch), but it was the wrong one, so we walked back about a km and admired the collective hideousness that is La Defense.
We got to l'Hotel at about 10am, but they didn't have our rooms ready until 1, which sucked. There was no food available that we could see so we just plonked ourselves in the sumptuous lobby (note the sarcasm again) and started work using the not-free wireless network. There was a chain-smoking homeless guy with his trousers open sitting next to us. He was apparently a regular at the hotel, as they brought him food and stuff. Unfortunately we weren't afforded the same service. Must be something to do with being a client.
Finally we got our rooms and grabbed a bit more sleep, before the call came from Tim to meet him at his rather more upmarket hotel - the Meridien. We hoofed it over there on the metro and were five minutes late, but it didn't matter as we had to wait in the lobby for another 40 minutes before Tim arrived and gave me my accreditation. At least the lobby of the Meridien was a hell of a lot nicer than the Ibis. The press room was downstairs so we found Hedwig (Anthony and Tim went to the finish) and were desirous of some food. Every brassiere (and most of the places to eat) in the vicinity was closed after lunch so after half an hour of walking, we ended up at the place that Shane and I had thought about going to when we got there - right next to the Meridien.
I had the equivalent of fried whitebait, heads, eyes, tail, everything. Didn't taste any different than calamari and I was bloody hungry so I didn't care. I think I ended up eating half of Hedwig's salad too.
Then it was back to the press room to see the end of the stage and actually do some work. Great finish, with Vino going away with 3 km to go. I love it when the sprinters teams get upset at the end. Then more work, finally finishing in the lobby of the beauteous Ibis at sometime after 11pm. We were meant to be at dinner at 10pm, but got there at midnight, just as they were taking last orders. Luckily we got some nosh. It ended up being me, Hedi, Shane, Tim, Suzanne (from the Austin American Statesman), Scott and Mike/Mark from Trek, and one other guy who I didn't know. Tanman, Jon Devich and Casey didn't make it, as they were piss-farting around in the hotel when we left.
At about 2am, three of us (Hedi + Shane) headed off to the Duplex nitespot to the post-Tour party, where many of the riders go. I'd forgotten my accreditation so I had to fork out the princely sum of 15 euros to get in, but I got a free drink so it wasn't all bad. It was certainly heaving when we got there, but given my zombie-like state, lack of voice, and lack of French, there wasn't a hell of a lot to do except suffocate. Bumped into Jeff Quenet, who introduced me to Bernard Sainz, aka Dr Mabuse. Go to search.cyclingnews.com/ and type in "Dr Mabuse" to find out a bit about him. He seemed to know who I was and was quite civil, although I wouldn't know because I don't speak the lingo. I can assure you that I didn't ask him for a pick-me-up to relieve me of my zombie-like state.
That was the only thing of remote interest that happened at the Duplex, and I started to feel poorly at about 3am and indicated to the Others that I would make my way back to the beauteous Ibis for some shuteye. They had reached the same conclusion and joined me, so we hoofed it part of the way and got a taxi for the rest of it, as the distance between the Arc de Triomphe and La Defense is further than it looks. Then a glorious 5 hours sleep before I got up again and tried to start work in the lobby. Luckily, John had posted two editions of news so it wasn't actually necessary for me to do anything other than drool like the homeless dude, who had spent a relaxing night in his chair, surrounded by a spray of peanuts and other items of food.
Then it was time to get out of there, and I returned to Sunny Gent at 2:04pm, local time. Couldn't sleep so I went for a short ride, felt crap because my throat was so dry and I didn't even realise the front brake was rubbing. That's a Lance excuse, sorry. Today was marginally better after a full 8 hours sleep and I managed to disengage the front brake and ride a bit quicker. Throat improving.
My mind is still a black hole, as evidenced by the above.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Monday, July 11, 2005
34
...years have passed since I entered this world, courtesy of my parents (thinks: thanks ma and pa). Overall, it's been pretty good. I just wish my birthday wasn't in the middle of the bloody Tour. Oh well, can't be helped. At least it's a rest day today.
Plan A didn't quite come off so I am going to instigate Plan B, which involves seeing War of the Worlds. Already seen Star Wars III, which was not bad except for the acting, or the direction thereof. I'm amazed that George Lucas can turn perfectly good actors into lifelike pieces of plasterboard. Chapeau, George! I also seen Sin City on the recommendation of Lucy, and it was quite good. Very dark and very violent, but extremely well done.
Tour commentary: Referring to Stage 8, where Discovery went OTB on the last climb, leaving Lance surrounded by 31 hostile forces. Well I guess it's not over until it's over, but I reckon he'll put the boot in en route to Courchevel tomorrow. We shall see.
I'm riding the Flandria again after the Endorfin's crank started squeaking and I didn't have the necessary tool to fix it. I like the feel of the Flandria a bit better, even if it's 9.3kg and has cheap Campag stuff on it.
Plan A didn't quite come off so I am going to instigate Plan B, which involves seeing War of the Worlds. Already seen Star Wars III, which was not bad except for the acting, or the direction thereof. I'm amazed that George Lucas can turn perfectly good actors into lifelike pieces of plasterboard. Chapeau, George! I also seen Sin City on the recommendation of Lucy, and it was quite good. Very dark and very violent, but extremely well done.
Tour commentary: Referring to Stage 8, where Discovery went OTB on the last climb, leaving Lance surrounded by 31 hostile forces. Well I guess it's not over until it's over, but I reckon he'll put the boot in en route to Courchevel tomorrow. We shall see.
I'm riding the Flandria again after the Endorfin's crank started squeaking and I didn't have the necessary tool to fix it. I like the feel of the Flandria a bit better, even if it's 9.3kg and has cheap Campag stuff on it.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
The Tour is go
Been hectic. Getting a door put on my shower too. I didn't ask for it, they just came and did it. Oh well, can't be helped.
So we're back at Le Tour and Paris hasn't got the Olympics. Vive le Londres. It was obviously my presence there two weeks ago that tipped the balance towards the Brits. Oh well, can't be helped.
Le Tour is a lot of work and you never have an "easy" day, even in the boring flat stages in the first week. The TTT was a corker, and I'm glad everyone followed the Hollywood script. You can tell that Americans are running the show now. Unfortunately, Lance blew it in the first stage by passing Ullrich. Oops. That eliminated any suspense for the GC on Day 1. So now the only way Lance can lose is if he crashes out or something, but then whoever wins will have to admit that it's only because the number one rider wasn't there. The Giro was much more interesting.
As for me, I've been sick since last Thursday with sinusitis, but did manage to get out for 100 km yesterday. Raining now, so I might pass again.
So we're back at Le Tour and Paris hasn't got the Olympics. Vive le Londres. It was obviously my presence there two weeks ago that tipped the balance towards the Brits. Oh well, can't be helped.
Le Tour is a lot of work and you never have an "easy" day, even in the boring flat stages in the first week. The TTT was a corker, and I'm glad everyone followed the Hollywood script. You can tell that Americans are running the show now. Unfortunately, Lance blew it in the first stage by passing Ullrich. Oops. That eliminated any suspense for the GC on Day 1. So now the only way Lance can lose is if he crashes out or something, but then whoever wins will have to admit that it's only because the number one rider wasn't there. The Giro was much more interesting.
As for me, I've been sick since last Thursday with sinusitis, but did manage to get out for 100 km yesterday. Raining now, so I might pass again.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
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.
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.
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.
Friday, June 24, 2005
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!
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 lowriderI 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 itePost-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!
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