Tarte au Citron or Mille Feuille?: The Tour de France Effect!

I'm not sure if you had noticed from the pictures that I have posted to date that the old Land Rover has two flash bikes strapped to its roof. One is mine and of course one is Linda's. Both have been little used to date although mine had previously, with me on board I hasten to add, completed the Way of the Roses cycle way from Morecambe to Bridlington. A mere 170 miles in four days.

It is almost obligatory to bring the bikes to this fanatical cycling nation because at every turn of the road, you see Lycra clad Wiggins or Froome devotees, pedalling for all they are worth trying to replicate the style and speed of the professionals. Certainly the bikes might be close to those used by the elite of the sport but I question whether the Lycra looks quite the same on these amateur wannabes!! Personally I would love to try and squeeze into a stylish Team Sky top but without trying, I know that it would only serve to highlight the considerable middle aged spread that now seems to be a permanent feature of this elderly physique of mine.

Anyway, the intention was to bring the bikes purely for show. After all, everyone cycles in France. They were never going to leave the roof of the Freelander but anybody passing would look admiringly at the sleek Specialised bikes on top of the car and think to themselves, they must be a fit couple!! Yeh, right!

Unfortunately however, today, I weakened. I woke up in a Sir Bradley Wiggins mood. Not good. I decided to take to my bike on a glorious blue sky day and cycle into Nyons for a mid-morning coffee. After all, it was only 10 miles. Regrettably I didn't take into account that it was also 10 miles back! Early stage dementia?

For my exploits in the UK, I had invested in a very fine pair of cycling shorts which made my bum look rather large but I reckoned this to be a price worth paying. In our branch of the family we often refer to the "Coy arse"! It's very self deprecating but add padded shorts to this phenomenon and wowser! Unfortunately, the bikes had come to France but not my shorts and so I was left with the choice of using Linda's - a very generous offer on her part - or stick to what I was wearing. I did contemplate lady shorts for a moment but on inspection was a little worried that they weren't quite designed for a man's comfort! Need I elaborate more?

I am happy to report that the trip passed with only two major incidents. The first on arrival in Nyons when I couldn't get my open toed sandals out of the toe straps. Fortunately I only fell against the wall and not on the floor! Slightly more stupid, on the way back, I wedged a fresh baguette in my handlebar bag, eating pieces as I pedalled homewards only to nearly lose said bread on a downhill section which resulted in me riding into the ditch at the roadside. I'm sure this is something Sir Bradley practices all the time!

Just over 20 miles later, I returned safely to Camping les Ramieres to be met by waving crowds truly appreciative of my momentous effort. My bum is sore, my legs are wobbly and the bike is now fastened back on the car for the rest of the holiday. I'm going for a walk tomorrow.