Bold Potato Beginning

Team Philosophe and Team Condor are on the train to Noirmoutier-en-l'Ile.

An island, off the coast of Vendée.

Sweezus thinks he's seen Richie. He heads off down the train.

Richie Porte is one of the race favourites, says Belle to Humboldt.

I thought Froome was the favourite, says Humboldt.

It depends what you mean by favourite, says Belle. We all like Richie. He's a poet, like Arthur. Isn't he, Arthur?

No, says Arthur. Not like me. Not unless he's got better since last year.

I'm surprised to see him on a train, says Vello.

Maybe it isn't him, says David.

Ha ha, laughs Gaius, remembering the time they saw Richie in a hutong in China and it was Not-Richie, but then later, it was.

Who else is in Team Condor this year? asks David.

Pablo Neruda, says Arthur.

Where is he? asks Belle. Shouldn't you have met up by now?

Probably, says Arthur. I'd call him but my phone's out of battery.

Let me call him, says Belle.

Are there any snacks? asks Terence.

Raw carrot sticks,says Belle.

Will I like them? asks Terence.

Why don't you try them and see?

Terence tries them. They break into hard little carrot chunks and will not go down.

He spits them out crossly.

Here, says Arthur. I'll give you a task, if you stop whining.

The task is to separate the Sea Salt from the leg hairs in the lunch box.

Terence commences the task.

That was nice of you, Arthur, says Belle. Would you like a carrot stick?

No thanks, says Arthur.

Belle tries calling Pablo Neruda. No answer.

I'm looking forward to Noirmoutier, says David.

Why is that? asks Vello.

It's home to La Bonnotte, the most expensive potato in the world, says David. I'm keen to try them.

Excellent, says Vello. Carbs. You have my approval.

I don't need your  approval, says David.

You do, says Vello. I'm Team Director.

David keeps forgetting. This does not augur well for the future.

Nor does the non-show of Pablo Neruda.

Sweezus returns to say that it really was Richie.

What did you talk about? asks Arthur.

He's writing this poem about Noirmoutier potatoes, says Sweezus. He's in a concrete phase, he reckons.

Arthur wants to hear the poem. He moves up the train.

It's not finished, says Richie. I need to see an actual potato. But it starts off like this:

"La Bonnotte, round and squat"

What do you reckon?

Nice rhyme. A bold beginning, if you haven't seen one, says Arthur.