Terence has fallen into the zoo.
The parakeet has flown off.
Terence finds himself in an infant-shaped hole, next to a bustard.
Fortunately for us, (and the bustard), Terence doesn't know it's a bustard.
Where did you come from? asks the bustard.
Up there, says Terence, pointing.
Where? asks the bustard.
Wah! cries Terence, having noticed his claw has come off.
What's the matter? asks the bustard.
My claw! says Terence. Help me find it!
The bustard starts looking, then stops.
Wait. What does it look like?
A claw, says Terence, holding up his small cement hand.
Those are fingers, says the bustard.
YES! says Terence. Because they're not missing!
The parakeet flies down, to see what is happening.
What's happening?
He's lost a claw, says the bustard.
What does it look like? asks the parakeet.
A finger, I imagine, says the bustard. Although he denies it.
No! shouts Terence. It's my blood brother's claw. And he's got my finger.
How was I to know that? asks the bustard.
You could have asked, says the parakeet.
How to frame the question? asks the bustard.
A small crowd has gathered, including a junior zoo keeper.
Merde! says the junior zoo keeper. Un trou!
Help! says Terence. I fell off the balcony and ruined my precious-est part.
Is this it? asks the parakeet, picking up something curly with his beak.
It must be, says Terence.
Belle arrives, having run down the steps.
Terence! What happened?
Votre enfant? asks the junior zoo keeper.
Yes, says Belle.
Il a fait un trou, says the keeper.
And he's injured, says Belle.
Wah! cries Terence. My claw fell off, and now it looks different!
We'll fix it, says Belle.
She drags Terence up the stairs, back to the café.
He's lost his claw, says Belle, to the general table.
Claw? says Isidore, who is still at the table discussing teratology (deviation from normal structure) with Gaius. The child has a claw?
Don't get excited, it's not what you think, Isidore, says Gaius.
Wednesday, July 31, 2019
Tuesday, July 30, 2019
Everyone's Responsible
Sweezus comes over to the terrace, to fetch Terence.
Is this your infant? asks the zoologist.
No, but he's with us, says Sweezus. What's he been up to?
Talking to a parakeet, says the zoologist. But I shooed it away. Hence the infant won't speak to me.
Say something, little dude, says Sweezus.
Cucumber, says Terence.
Ha ha! laughs the zoologist. Why did he say that?
I probably smell of it, says Sweezus. Had the Detox du Jardin.
Excellent choice, says the zoologist.
Except for the black plastic straw, says Sweezus.
Oh, that, says the zoologist.
Choking the oceans, says Sweezus.
I know, says the zoologist. But I'm not entirely responsible.
Everyone's responsible, says Sweezus.
Even you, says Terence.
Not if I speak up, says Sweezus.
Do I know you? asks the zoologist.
Tour de France, says Sweezus. Team Condor.
Mais oui! says the zoologist. Team Condor. You were unsuccessful. Do you know Team Philosophe?
Sure do, says Sweezus. They're sitting at our table. Come on over.
Sweezus and the zoologist head across to the table.
Terence remains on the terrace. The parakeet flies down to a railing.
Spit!
What's that? asks Terence.
Tomato seed, says the parakeet.
Gaius looks up from his cheesecake.
Isidore!
Gaius, mon vieux ami!
Would you believe it! The zoologist has turned out to be Isidore Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, whose father, Etienne, formed the menagerie in the late eighteenth century.
Welcome to the Jardin des Plantes, says Isidore, fetching a chair.
It's gorgeous, says Belle. Was that you I saw talking to Terence?
It was, says Isidore. He was speaking with a rose-ringed parakeet.
Trying to persuade it to become his pet parrot, no doubt, says Gaius.
Would he like one? asks Isidore Saint-Hilaire. They can be quite a nuisance.
He'd love one, says Belle.
How about introducing us, says Vello, to Gaius, who has neglected to do it.
I'll introduce myself, says Isidore. Isidore Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, zoologist and authority on deviation from normal structure.
You don't say? says Vello. A commendable interest. I daresay most of us deviate to some degree from normal structure. My big toe....
Papa! says Belle. He's joking, Isidore.
I'm used to it, says Isidore. But I must say your young Terence is a puzzle. He appears to be made of cement, yet exhibits a high degree of mobility.
Yeah, says Sweezus. But he can't ride a bicycle.
I should not have expected that, says Isidore. But he does appear able to climb onto a railing. Look, he is doing it now.
O my goodness! says Belle.
They all turn to watch as Terence tumbles head first off the railing.
And into the zoo.
Is this your infant? asks the zoologist.
No, but he's with us, says Sweezus. What's he been up to?
Talking to a parakeet, says the zoologist. But I shooed it away. Hence the infant won't speak to me.
Say something, little dude, says Sweezus.
Cucumber, says Terence.
Ha ha! laughs the zoologist. Why did he say that?
I probably smell of it, says Sweezus. Had the Detox du Jardin.
Excellent choice, says the zoologist.
Except for the black plastic straw, says Sweezus.
Oh, that, says the zoologist.
Choking the oceans, says Sweezus.
I know, says the zoologist. But I'm not entirely responsible.
Everyone's responsible, says Sweezus.
Even you, says Terence.
Not if I speak up, says Sweezus.
Do I know you? asks the zoologist.
Tour de France, says Sweezus. Team Condor.
Mais oui! says the zoologist. Team Condor. You were unsuccessful. Do you know Team Philosophe?
Sure do, says Sweezus. They're sitting at our table. Come on over.
Sweezus and the zoologist head across to the table.
Terence remains on the terrace. The parakeet flies down to a railing.
Spit!
What's that? asks Terence.
Tomato seed, says the parakeet.
Gaius looks up from his cheesecake.
Isidore!
Gaius, mon vieux ami!
Would you believe it! The zoologist has turned out to be Isidore Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, whose father, Etienne, formed the menagerie in the late eighteenth century.
Welcome to the Jardin des Plantes, says Isidore, fetching a chair.
It's gorgeous, says Belle. Was that you I saw talking to Terence?
It was, says Isidore. He was speaking with a rose-ringed parakeet.
Trying to persuade it to become his pet parrot, no doubt, says Gaius.
Would he like one? asks Isidore Saint-Hilaire. They can be quite a nuisance.
He'd love one, says Belle.
How about introducing us, says Vello, to Gaius, who has neglected to do it.
I'll introduce myself, says Isidore. Isidore Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, zoologist and authority on deviation from normal structure.
You don't say? says Vello. A commendable interest. I daresay most of us deviate to some degree from normal structure. My big toe....
Papa! says Belle. He's joking, Isidore.
I'm used to it, says Isidore. But I must say your young Terence is a puzzle. He appears to be made of cement, yet exhibits a high degree of mobility.
Yeah, says Sweezus. But he can't ride a bicycle.
I should not have expected that, says Isidore. But he does appear able to climb onto a railing. Look, he is doing it now.
O my goodness! says Belle.
They all turn to watch as Terence tumbles head first off the railing.
And into the zoo.
Monday, July 29, 2019
Bustards Are Not People
Next day.
Team Philosophe and Team Condor are having lunch at the Jardin des Plantes.
Vello is paying.
The café is called Les Belles Plantes.
Flowered wall paper, wicker furniture, dried flowers.
A terrace view of the menagerie.
Can we GO now? asks Terence.
Not yet, says Belle.
Well, this is nice, says David, his mouth full of soft-boiled egg and asparagus.
So it should be, says Vello, prodding his semi-cooked tuna in ginger lime sauce.
Sweezus is scowling at his cucumber Detox du Jardin, with its black plastic straw.
What are everyone's plans after Paris? asks Vello. You, Friedrich?
Nietzsche looks at Grace Swan.
He's coming back to Perth with me, says Grace Swan.
How come? asks Sprocket.
Arthur nudges Sprocket.
They're an item.
Sprocket coughs up a lump of ratatouille.
My immediate plans are to remain in Paris, says Gaius. Look up an old friend. He has a connection to this place.
This café? asks Belle.
No, the Museum of Natural History, the menagerie and the Jardin des Plantes, says Gaius. My friend Isidore, a zoologist. I suppose he'll still be here.
Are we going? says Terence.
Not yet, says Belle.
Arthur and me are going surfing before we head home, says Sweezus. Côte Sauvage. Should be awesome.
Me too, says Sprocket.
Look! says Terence. There's a parrot!
He runs off to the terrace.
It's a green parakeet, with a red beak. On a branch, squawking.
Parakeet: Squawk!
Terence: Squawk you.
Parakeet: I was.
Terence: I mean, what you said.
Parakeet: Squawk you.
Terence: That's what I said. Are you in the zoo?
Parakeet: No. It's for losers, like red pandas, snow leopards, Arabian oryxes, white-naped cranes and bustards.
Terence: Ha ha! Bustards!
Parakeet: Why laugh at them?
Terence: Because they're people.
Parakeet: Bustards are not people. I'm off.
Terence: Wait! Be my new parrot.
Parakeet: No! Why would I?
Terence: Because Mouldy is useless. And he didn't win the Tour de France.
Parakeet: Neither did I.
Terence: And he isn't a parrot.
Parakeet: Why do you want me?
Terence: Two red parts. Your beak and your red and black neck ring
A zoologist looms up behind Terence and shoos off the parakeet
Zoologist: Away ! Away!
Terence: He's gone.
Zoologist: Good riddance. He eats the tomatoes in our kitchen garden. Let me take you back to your parents. Where are they?
Terence: In a palace, in Barcelona. I don't want to go there!
Zoologist: Who are you with then? Which table?
But Terence doesn't trust the zoologist who scared off his parrot.
No way will he answer.
Team Philosophe and Team Condor are having lunch at the Jardin des Plantes.
Vello is paying.
The café is called Les Belles Plantes.
Flowered wall paper, wicker furniture, dried flowers.
A terrace view of the menagerie.
Can we GO now? asks Terence.
Not yet, says Belle.
Well, this is nice, says David, his mouth full of soft-boiled egg and asparagus.
So it should be, says Vello, prodding his semi-cooked tuna in ginger lime sauce.
Sweezus is scowling at his cucumber Detox du Jardin, with its black plastic straw.
What are everyone's plans after Paris? asks Vello. You, Friedrich?
Nietzsche looks at Grace Swan.
He's coming back to Perth with me, says Grace Swan.
How come? asks Sprocket.
Arthur nudges Sprocket.
They're an item.
Sprocket coughs up a lump of ratatouille.
My immediate plans are to remain in Paris, says Gaius. Look up an old friend. He has a connection to this place.
This café? asks Belle.
No, the Museum of Natural History, the menagerie and the Jardin des Plantes, says Gaius. My friend Isidore, a zoologist. I suppose he'll still be here.
Are we going? says Terence.
Not yet, says Belle.
Arthur and me are going surfing before we head home, says Sweezus. Côte Sauvage. Should be awesome.
Me too, says Sprocket.
Look! says Terence. There's a parrot!
He runs off to the terrace.
It's a green parakeet, with a red beak. On a branch, squawking.
Parakeet: Squawk!
Terence: Squawk you.
Parakeet: I was.
Terence: I mean, what you said.
Parakeet: Squawk you.
Terence: That's what I said. Are you in the zoo?
Parakeet: No. It's for losers, like red pandas, snow leopards, Arabian oryxes, white-naped cranes and bustards.
Terence: Ha ha! Bustards!
Parakeet: Why laugh at them?
Terence: Because they're people.
Parakeet: Bustards are not people. I'm off.
Terence: Wait! Be my new parrot.
Parakeet: No! Why would I?
Terence: Because Mouldy is useless. And he didn't win the Tour de France.
Parakeet: Neither did I.
Terence: And he isn't a parrot.
Parakeet: Why do you want me?
Terence: Two red parts. Your beak and your red and black neck ring
A zoologist looms up behind Terence and shoos off the parakeet
Zoologist: Away ! Away!
Terence: He's gone.
Zoologist: Good riddance. He eats the tomatoes in our kitchen garden. Let me take you back to your parents. Where are they?
Terence: In a palace, in Barcelona. I don't want to go there!
Zoologist: Who are you with then? Which table?
But Terence doesn't trust the zoologist who scared off his parrot.
No way will he answer.
Sunday, July 28, 2019
Stage Twenty One: Rambouillet to Paris Champs-Elysées - Belief
Why are they going so SLOWLY? asks Terence.
Because it doesn't matter, says Belle.
Then they should go FAST, says Terence.
Mouldy exits the champagne-sipping procession and stops in front of Terence.
Get GOING! says Terence. You can win this!
Egan Bernal has already won it, says Mouldy.
Tell him he could still win the sprint, says Belle.
Is he actually registered? asks Grace Swan.
He's too short, says Terence.
Mouldy did not know that.
So it's all been for nothing.
He goes though a series of fast evolving emotions.
Depair, fury, desire for revenge...
He remembers his weekend as a thrombolite during which he learned acceptance.
Look at the other riders. They are drinking champagne. Only the sprinters are still plotting....
Mouldy remounts and joins the riders.
But no one gives him champagne.
There are no small glasses.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket have already downed several glasses.
Sweezus has become philosophical.
Good tour, says Sweezus. Best one yet. You never knew what would happen.
That's always true, says Arthur.
Yeah, but this time you never even knew what you thought would happen, says Sweezus.
Different guys winning, says Sprocket. That was cool.
Same team in the end, though, says Arthur.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Team freaking Ineos.
Have they won before? asks the ingenuous Sprocket.
Up ahead, Team Philosophe is also swilling champers.
Except for Nietzsche.
Here's to you, Friedrich, says Vello. You've done us all proud.
Thank you, says Nietzsche. Here's a question. Should I should grow my moustache back?
NO! says Vello.
Inadvisable, says David.
It was rather manly, says Gaius.
Nietszche wonders which of those opinions might best reflect those of Grace Swan.
Perhaps you should ask her, says Vello.
He won't though. That would be demeaning.
He might ask young Sprocket, later on.
The Champs Elysées at last!
The sprinters have organised early.
But to make a short story shorter, let's cut to the end.
The end:
Caleb Ewan has won the final stage in Paris. His third stage win in his first Tour de France.
He claims he can't believe it.
Egan Bernal wins the overall Tour.
Only twenty two years old and the first Columbian to win it.
He also claims he can't believe it.
But what's the point, if you can't then believe it?
Because it doesn't matter, says Belle.
Then they should go FAST, says Terence.
Mouldy exits the champagne-sipping procession and stops in front of Terence.
Get GOING! says Terence. You can win this!
Egan Bernal has already won it, says Mouldy.
Tell him he could still win the sprint, says Belle.
Is he actually registered? asks Grace Swan.
He's too short, says Terence.
Mouldy did not know that.
So it's all been for nothing.
He goes though a series of fast evolving emotions.
Depair, fury, desire for revenge...
He remembers his weekend as a thrombolite during which he learned acceptance.
Look at the other riders. They are drinking champagne. Only the sprinters are still plotting....
Mouldy remounts and joins the riders.
But no one gives him champagne.
There are no small glasses.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket have already downed several glasses.
Sweezus has become philosophical.
Good tour, says Sweezus. Best one yet. You never knew what would happen.
That's always true, says Arthur.
Yeah, but this time you never even knew what you thought would happen, says Sweezus.
Different guys winning, says Sprocket. That was cool.
Same team in the end, though, says Arthur.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Team freaking Ineos.
Have they won before? asks the ingenuous Sprocket.
Up ahead, Team Philosophe is also swilling champers.
Except for Nietzsche.
Here's to you, Friedrich, says Vello. You've done us all proud.
Thank you, says Nietzsche. Here's a question. Should I should grow my moustache back?
NO! says Vello.
Inadvisable, says David.
It was rather manly, says Gaius.
Nietszche wonders which of those opinions might best reflect those of Grace Swan.
Perhaps you should ask her, says Vello.
He won't though. That would be demeaning.
He might ask young Sprocket, later on.
The Champs Elysées at last!
The sprinters have organised early.
But to make a short story shorter, let's cut to the end.
The end:
Caleb Ewan has won the final stage in Paris. His third stage win in his first Tour de France.
He claims he can't believe it.
Egan Bernal wins the overall Tour.
Only twenty two years old and the first Columbian to win it.
He also claims he can't believe it.
But what's the point, if you can't then believe it?
Saturday, July 27, 2019
Stage Twenty: Albertville to Val Thorens - Eight-fold Path
The stage has been shortened today.
But what remains will be gruelling.
And peppered with ifs.
If yesterday's weather had been different ....
If I could have finished....
If he....
Just think, says Vello, any one of us might have ended up wearing yellow.
A number of events would need to have happened for it to be you, says David. Or me. Or even Gaius.
Or me, says Nietzsche.
I didn't include you for a reason, says David.
May I ask the reason? says Nietzsche.
Extraordinary things seem to happen to you, says David.
Doesn't make it more likely, says Vello.
Doesn't it? says David.
In the light of that, says Nietzsche, I feel I should tell you that something super-extraordinary has happened.
You are in love, says Vello. We guessed that.
Nietzsche is deflated.
The road steepens.
Vincenzo Nibali rides past.
Further up the road Nibali passes Team Condor, who are weighing up their options.
He hears one of them say: Lobster thermidor pie.
Focus, Vincenzo!
It just popped out, says Sprocket.
Again? says Sweezus. Anything with it?
Nut and herb crumble, says Sprocket. And apple salad.
You know what? says Arthur.
What? says Sweezus.
Schopenhauer had that for dinner once, says Arthur.
So, it's coming to me through my saddle, says Sprocket. Funny. It only started yesterday.
You're tired, says Sweezus. Try and focus.
On what? says Sprocket. The food or the eight-fold path?
Whatever helps, says Sweezus.
But not both, says Arthur.
Sprocket chooses the eight-fold path. Number six. Right effort
His mother would approve it.
Further up the road, the yellow jersey group pursues Nibali.
With number seven (right mindfulness) and number eight (right concentration).
The eight-fold path is quite useful.
But Nibali is powering his way up to Val Thorens.
Today is his last chance to win a stage and prove that competing in the Giro didn't bugger up his chances.
E-huh! E-huh!
It's hard though. Because up to now it has seemed that it has.
But no! He is still in the lead. Focus Vincenzo!
Not on pain and misery.
Not on running clown idiots
Not on the never-ending mountain.
Something uplifting. Something to aspire to.
Something like....lobster thermidor pie.
But what remains will be gruelling.
And peppered with ifs.
If yesterday's weather had been different ....
If I could have finished....
If he....
Just think, says Vello, any one of us might have ended up wearing yellow.
A number of events would need to have happened for it to be you, says David. Or me. Or even Gaius.
Or me, says Nietzsche.
I didn't include you for a reason, says David.
May I ask the reason? says Nietzsche.
Extraordinary things seem to happen to you, says David.
Doesn't make it more likely, says Vello.
Doesn't it? says David.
In the light of that, says Nietzsche, I feel I should tell you that something super-extraordinary has happened.
You are in love, says Vello. We guessed that.
Nietzsche is deflated.
The road steepens.
Vincenzo Nibali rides past.
Further up the road Nibali passes Team Condor, who are weighing up their options.
He hears one of them say: Lobster thermidor pie.
Focus, Vincenzo!
It just popped out, says Sprocket.
Again? says Sweezus. Anything with it?
Nut and herb crumble, says Sprocket. And apple salad.
You know what? says Arthur.
What? says Sweezus.
Schopenhauer had that for dinner once, says Arthur.
So, it's coming to me through my saddle, says Sprocket. Funny. It only started yesterday.
You're tired, says Sweezus. Try and focus.
On what? says Sprocket. The food or the eight-fold path?
Whatever helps, says Sweezus.
But not both, says Arthur.
Sprocket chooses the eight-fold path. Number six. Right effort
His mother would approve it.
Further up the road, the yellow jersey group pursues Nibali.
With number seven (right mindfulness) and number eight (right concentration).
The eight-fold path is quite useful.
But Nibali is powering his way up to Val Thorens.
Today is his last chance to win a stage and prove that competing in the Giro didn't bugger up his chances.
E-huh! E-huh!
It's hard though. Because up to now it has seemed that it has.
But no! He is still in the lead. Focus Vincenzo!
Not on pain and misery.
Not on running clown idiots
Not on the never-ending mountain.
Something uplifting. Something to aspire to.
Something like....lobster thermidor pie.
Friday, July 26, 2019
Stage Nineteen: Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne to Tignes - Fingers
Bang. The teams roll out of Saint-Jean-de-Maurienne.
No one knows what is ahead of them.
Except John the Baptist.
Three of his fingers are in Saint-Jean-de Maurienne, in a golden casket.
They have been (at some point) cut off.
You could call it an omen.
At the beginning the weather is fine.
John the Baptists's fingers: ^ FOR NOW ^
Nibali, Bilbao, Martin and Herrada ride away.
John the Baptist's fingers: ^ MUCH GOOD WILL IT DO THEM ^
They are caught early at 35k.
At 36k Thibaut Pinaut is forced to abandon.
John the Baptist's fingers: ^ A TORN MUSCLE ^
Twenty nine riders form the front group.
John the Baptist's fingers: ^ WEATHER ALERT! ^
But no one heeds the fingers. It's too early.
The fingers are now out of range.
Sprocket is feeling combative.
I might go for it, says Sprocket. Should I?
You go for it, says Sweezus.
I will. I feel super confident, says Sprocket. Not sure why.
Schopenhauer's bicycle, says Arthur. What thoughts are you having?
The eight-fold path, says Sprocket. Right understanding, right thought, right action....lobster thermidor pie.
That's only four, says Sweezus.
Three, says Arthur. You can't count the pie.
Sprocket speeds up, the pie notwithstanding.
Everyone rides hard.
Col de St André, monteé d'Aussois, col de la Madeleine, col de l'Iseran ....
Egan Bernal crests the col d'Iseran first.
Now for the descending.
Did he but know it, he could stop right here.
John the Baptist's fingers were right, although light on the detail.
A freak hailstorm hits the road down ahead.
The road is covered in rain, hail and muddy landslides. Impassable
The race is abandoned for reasons of safety.
Egan Bernal will wear yellow tomorrow.
No one knows what is ahead of them.
Except John the Baptist.
Three of his fingers are in Saint-Jean-de Maurienne, in a golden casket.
They have been (at some point) cut off.
You could call it an omen.
At the beginning the weather is fine.
John the Baptists's fingers: ^ FOR NOW ^
Nibali, Bilbao, Martin and Herrada ride away.
John the Baptist's fingers: ^ MUCH GOOD WILL IT DO THEM ^
They are caught early at 35k.
At 36k Thibaut Pinaut is forced to abandon.
John the Baptist's fingers: ^ A TORN MUSCLE ^
Twenty nine riders form the front group.
John the Baptist's fingers: ^ WEATHER ALERT! ^
But no one heeds the fingers. It's too early.
The fingers are now out of range.
Sprocket is feeling combative.
I might go for it, says Sprocket. Should I?
You go for it, says Sweezus.
I will. I feel super confident, says Sprocket. Not sure why.
Schopenhauer's bicycle, says Arthur. What thoughts are you having?
The eight-fold path, says Sprocket. Right understanding, right thought, right action....lobster thermidor pie.
That's only four, says Sweezus.
Three, says Arthur. You can't count the pie.
Sprocket speeds up, the pie notwithstanding.
Everyone rides hard.
Col de St André, monteé d'Aussois, col de la Madeleine, col de l'Iseran ....
Egan Bernal crests the col d'Iseran first.
Now for the descending.
Did he but know it, he could stop right here.
John the Baptist's fingers were right, although light on the detail.
A freak hailstorm hits the road down ahead.
The road is covered in rain, hail and muddy landslides. Impassable
The race is abandoned for reasons of safety.
Egan Bernal will wear yellow tomorrow.
Thursday, July 25, 2019
Stage Eighteen: Embrun to Valloire - Nutty Philosophy
A mountain stage, with three difficult climbs.
Nairo Quintana believes that today he can win it.
Roman Bardet has high hopes of doing the same.
Sweezus has given up on his quest for the polka
dot jersey.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Should’ve practiced more instead of
sitting in the office with Nietzsche.
Wasn’t he sitting there too? asks Sprocket.
Yep, but he’s not doing that well either, says Sweezus.
Truth is, I fell for his nutty philosophy.
Arthur laughs at the thought of that happening.
Not funny, bro, says Sweezus. He went on about being a lion.
Not a dragon? says Arthur.
No, a lion, says Sweezus. A lion that needs no
justification.
To do what? says Arthur.
Create new values, says Sweezus.
Like not winning, says Sprocket.
It appears he is right.
Many riders ride past them including Team Philosophe.
Giving up? shouts Vello over his shoulder.
Enjoying the scenery, says Sweezus.
And it’s well worth enjoying.
The Alps are spectacular. Great peaks and green valleys.
Rocks and scree. Escarpments. High fortifications. Crowds of people at the tops
of the climbs, poking their hands out. Someone is dressed as a chicken.
Hear that? says Vello. Team Condor’s giving up.
More fool us, says David. It’s incredibly hot.
No, says Gaius. We owe it to ourselves to keep on to the
finish. What do you think, Friedrich?
Nietzsche collects his thoughts, which had wandered away to
Grace Swan.
Perhaps he might follow her back to the PICA.
If god is dead, as he has long contested, the gap might be
filled by art and culture.
But what was the question?
David wants to give up, says Vello.
The spirit becomes a camel, says Nietzsche, the camel a lion,
and the lion a child.
He’s lost it, says Vello. Keep riding men. I see Belle in
the distance.
It’s Belle with musettes full of pelardons.
And Terence with bidons of water.
They have to lean down to pick up the bidons from Terence.
They wobble, but no one falls off.
Way up ahead, is Nairo Quintana.
For Nairo Quintana today, the camel has become like a lion who
has become like a child.
A child is innocence
and forgetfulness, a new beginning, a sport, a self- propelling wheel, a sacred ~YES~
Nairo Quintana rides solo to victory,
through the angular streets of Valloire.
Wednesday, July 24, 2019
Stage Seventeen : Pont du Gard to Gap - Space
A hilly stage, full of antiquities.
Not least of which are the Team Philosophe riders.
Let's pace ourselves today, suggests Vello.
You may, says Nietzsche. I'm going all out.
He speeds forward and soon draws level with Mouldy.
Number one! cries Mouldy.
You are not number one, says Nietzsche. But I admire your confidence.
I have fast socks, explains Mouldy.
I do not rely on socks, says Nietzsche. I rely on my inner resources.
I am a pebble, says Mouldy. I don't need to have inner resources.
You must have something, says Nietzsche. You have done very well to get here.
I put it down to my time with the thrombolites, says Mouldy. I learned to breathe underwater.
How long were you underwater? asks Nietzsche.
All weekend, says Mouldy. They thought I was one.
And were you? asks Nietzsche.
No, I wasn't, says Mouldy.
I intend to speed up now, says Nietzsche. Will you match me?
No worries, says Mouldy. See these legs?
But Nietzsche has already sped up and passed Nairo Quintana and Roman Bardet.
Not a great feat but a good one.
He is reciting a poem under his breath.
It's the ingenious poem of Pablo Neruda, which has spread through the grapevine this year.
Take every opportunity
Find an opening
Go through it
Don't ever consider
That space may be there for a reason.
Up ahead of everyone, Matteo Trentin is resolving to change the last line.
Not least of which are the Team Philosophe riders.
Let's pace ourselves today, suggests Vello.
You may, says Nietzsche. I'm going all out.
He speeds forward and soon draws level with Mouldy.
Number one! cries Mouldy.
You are not number one, says Nietzsche. But I admire your confidence.
I have fast socks, explains Mouldy.
I do not rely on socks, says Nietzsche. I rely on my inner resources.
I am a pebble, says Mouldy. I don't need to have inner resources.
You must have something, says Nietzsche. You have done very well to get here.
I put it down to my time with the thrombolites, says Mouldy. I learned to breathe underwater.
How long were you underwater? asks Nietzsche.
All weekend, says Mouldy. They thought I was one.
And were you? asks Nietzsche.
No, I wasn't, says Mouldy.
I intend to speed up now, says Nietzsche. Will you match me?
No worries, says Mouldy. See these legs?
But Nietzsche has already sped up and passed Nairo Quintana and Roman Bardet.
Not a great feat but a good one.
He is reciting a poem under his breath.
It's the ingenious poem of Pablo Neruda, which has spread through the grapevine this year.
Take every opportunity
Find an opening
Go through it
Don't ever consider
That space may be there for a reason.
Up ahead of everyone, Matteo Trentin is resolving to change the last line.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Stage Sixteen: Nîmes to Nîmes - The Passion Dragon
A flat stage, the only one contested in a single French province.
That is, going nowhere.
Also, it is hot.
Nietzsche is practicing self-overcoming.
Thought can control the passion dragon, mutters Nietzsche.
What's that? asks Gaius.
Thought, says Nietzsche. A means of controlling the passion dragon.
A fine sentiment, says Vello.
Poetic, says David.
Richie Porte trundles by.
I agree, says Richie. Poetry can be helpful. Pablo wrote a great one last year.
Pablo? says Vello. Was it the one about tomatoes?
No, says Richie. The guys had a competition. Pablo's was Take Every Opportunity. Pretty inspiring.
Give it to us, says David.
No way, says Richie, speeding up.
Richie's was about potatoes, says Gaius.
They laugh.
They pass Geraint Thomas, who has had a tumble.
A scratched knee. Let's hope he's all right.
Mouldy streaks past on his tiny bicycle.
Did you see that? asks Vello.
No, what? asks David.
His little spindly legs, wrapped in sock string, says Vello.
Ah, yes, says Nietzsche. Yesterday Terence washed out the string in the fountain.
Where did he get it? asks Gaius.
I didn't ask, says Nietzsche.
I wonder who wrapped up his legs this morning, says David.
Grace did, says Nietzsche. She's very artistic.
You and she get on well, observes Vello.
I almost didn't come, says Nietzsche, looking dreamy.
No one can think of a suitable rejoinder.
....
It's hot. And getting hotter.
Everyone wants it to be over.
The breakaway is flagging.
Are we near the finish?
There is supposed to an aqueduct somewhere.
......
Sweezus: This is mental.
Arthur: I know.
Sprocket: Thought can overcome the passion dragon.
Sweezus: Did you make that up?
Sprocket: No, everyone's saying it.
Arthur: Then it's not all that useful.
Sweezus: Pablo had a good poem last year.
Arthur: So did I.
Sweezus: Yeah, bro. I was just remembering Take Every Opportunity.
Sprocket: How'd that go?
Sweezus: Take every opportunity.....
But here is the aqueduct.
And soon enough, here is the finish.
A bunch sprint is occurring.
Caleb Ewan takes every opportunity.
To beat Viviani.
That is, going nowhere.
Also, it is hot.
Nietzsche is practicing self-overcoming.
Thought can control the passion dragon, mutters Nietzsche.
What's that? asks Gaius.
Thought, says Nietzsche. A means of controlling the passion dragon.
A fine sentiment, says Vello.
Poetic, says David.
Richie Porte trundles by.
I agree, says Richie. Poetry can be helpful. Pablo wrote a great one last year.
Pablo? says Vello. Was it the one about tomatoes?
No, says Richie. The guys had a competition. Pablo's was Take Every Opportunity. Pretty inspiring.
Give it to us, says David.
No way, says Richie, speeding up.
Richie's was about potatoes, says Gaius.
They laugh.
They pass Geraint Thomas, who has had a tumble.
A scratched knee. Let's hope he's all right.
Mouldy streaks past on his tiny bicycle.
Did you see that? asks Vello.
No, what? asks David.
His little spindly legs, wrapped in sock string, says Vello.
Ah, yes, says Nietzsche. Yesterday Terence washed out the string in the fountain.
Where did he get it? asks Gaius.
I didn't ask, says Nietzsche.
I wonder who wrapped up his legs this morning, says David.
Grace did, says Nietzsche. She's very artistic.
You and she get on well, observes Vello.
I almost didn't come, says Nietzsche, looking dreamy.
No one can think of a suitable rejoinder.
....
It's hot. And getting hotter.
Everyone wants it to be over.
The breakaway is flagging.
Are we near the finish?
There is supposed to an aqueduct somewhere.
......
Sweezus: This is mental.
Arthur: I know.
Sprocket: Thought can overcome the passion dragon.
Sweezus: Did you make that up?
Sprocket: No, everyone's saying it.
Arthur: Then it's not all that useful.
Sweezus: Pablo had a good poem last year.
Arthur: So did I.
Sweezus: Yeah, bro. I was just remembering Take Every Opportunity.
Sprocket: How'd that go?
Sweezus: Take every opportunity.....
But here is the aqueduct.
And soon enough, here is the finish.
A bunch sprint is occurring.
Caleb Ewan takes every opportunity.
To beat Viviani.
Monday, July 22, 2019
Rest Day in Nîmes - That Kind Of Day
Nîmes. The French Rome.
Team Condor and Team Philosophe picnic on grass, next to a fountain.
Across the road from the Arena de Nîmes.
Can I go to the fountain? asks Terence.
Yes, says Belle, opening the picnic basket. Don't fall in.
I have to, says Terence, but not loudly.
What have we here? asks Vello. It smells delicious.
Bull meat with capers, onion and anchovy, says Belle. Served with asparagus.
Marcel Proust wrinkles his nose.
Asparagus.
And paté Nîmois, says Belle. You'll love this, Sweezie.
Bull first, says Sweezus.
What a delightful setting, says Gaius. A well-preserved Roman arena.
They still hold bull fights there, says Grace Swan.
Sweezus stops chewing.
They cook the meat for ages, in red wine, says Belle.
Sweezus starts chewing again.
Arthur picks up a pelardon. Bites into it.
A strong scent of goat wafts around the picnickers and across to the fountain.
Poo! says Terence. What's that SMELL?
I heard Terence, says Belle. But I can't see him. Where is the little monkey?
I'll go, says Nietzsche.
He walks across to the fountain. Terence is in the water, rinsing out string.
You fell in, says Nietzsche.
No, says Terence. See these? They got tangled in Mouldy's wheels. He came last yesterday because that happened.
Let me help you, says Nietzsche.
He is not usually helpful.
What has changed?
Grace Swan is watching.
What a lovely man he is, thinks Grace Swan.
She looks at him, rinsing out string in the fountain with Terence.
She looks at her son Sprocket, who is sharing a goat cheese with Arthur.
What would he think if she took up with Nietzsche?
Vello is offering her a glass of Rosé de Tavel.
Favourite wine of Philippe le Bel, Louis XIV, the Avignon popes, Honore de Balzac and Earnest Hemingway, says Vello.
A knowledgeable man.
Did you read that on the label? asks David.
Grace sips her Rosé de Tavel.
Marcel Proust has taken his wig off, and his long clown shoes.
His feet are bare. His left big toe has a blister.
No socks? says Grace Swan.
I lent them to Arthur, yesterday, says Marcel, smearing tapenade on a crust of fresh bread.
Nietzsche returns in time for the opening of a bottle of Perrier.
The famous bubbles.
They finish off with croquants Villaret, extremely hard almond bicuits.
No one breaks a tooth, luckily.
It's that kind of day.
Team Condor and Team Philosophe picnic on grass, next to a fountain.
Across the road from the Arena de Nîmes.
Can I go to the fountain? asks Terence.
Yes, says Belle, opening the picnic basket. Don't fall in.
I have to, says Terence, but not loudly.
What have we here? asks Vello. It smells delicious.
Bull meat with capers, onion and anchovy, says Belle. Served with asparagus.
Marcel Proust wrinkles his nose.
Asparagus.
And paté Nîmois, says Belle. You'll love this, Sweezie.
Bull first, says Sweezus.
What a delightful setting, says Gaius. A well-preserved Roman arena.
They still hold bull fights there, says Grace Swan.
Sweezus stops chewing.
They cook the meat for ages, in red wine, says Belle.
Sweezus starts chewing again.
Arthur picks up a pelardon. Bites into it.
A strong scent of goat wafts around the picnickers and across to the fountain.
Poo! says Terence. What's that SMELL?
I heard Terence, says Belle. But I can't see him. Where is the little monkey?
I'll go, says Nietzsche.
He walks across to the fountain. Terence is in the water, rinsing out string.
You fell in, says Nietzsche.
No, says Terence. See these? They got tangled in Mouldy's wheels. He came last yesterday because that happened.
Let me help you, says Nietzsche.
He is not usually helpful.
What has changed?
Grace Swan is watching.
What a lovely man he is, thinks Grace Swan.
She looks at him, rinsing out string in the fountain with Terence.
She looks at her son Sprocket, who is sharing a goat cheese with Arthur.
What would he think if she took up with Nietzsche?
Vello is offering her a glass of Rosé de Tavel.
Favourite wine of Philippe le Bel, Louis XIV, the Avignon popes, Honore de Balzac and Earnest Hemingway, says Vello.
A knowledgeable man.
Did you read that on the label? asks David.
Grace sips her Rosé de Tavel.
Marcel Proust has taken his wig off, and his long clown shoes.
His feet are bare. His left big toe has a blister.
No socks? says Grace Swan.
I lent them to Arthur, yesterday, says Marcel, smearing tapenade on a crust of fresh bread.
Nietzsche returns in time for the opening of a bottle of Perrier.
The famous bubbles.
They finish off with croquants Villaret, extremely hard almond bicuits.
No one breaks a tooth, luckily.
It's that kind of day.
Sunday, July 21, 2019
Stage Fifteen: Limoux to Foix Prat d'Albis - Aerodynamic
A gruelling mountain stage, with three category one climbs before the finish.
Sweezus hopes to achieve his dream of being King of the Mountain.
I'd lend you my socks, says Arthur. They were super aerodynamic.
But what? says Sweezus.
But Terence cut the tops off, says Arthur.
What did he want them for? asks Sweezus.
Don't know, says Arthur. But they're unravelling.
They glance at his socks.
Threads are lengthening visibly, and flapping.
I might have to stop for a minute, says Arthur.
Shit, says Sweezus, can't you just lean down and roll the tops under?
You mean like this? says Arthur, leaning down and fiddling with his socks.
He wobbles. No way can he do it.
He stops, next to a clown.
Greetings, says Marcel. Sock trouble? Do take mine.
Thanks Marcel, says Arthur, effecting a quick change at the road side.
The socks of Marcel Proust are, understandably, clown socks.
Striped and loose,. But Arthur's legs are sturdier than Proust's are. The socks fit quite well.
Come to our picnic tomorrow, shouts Arthur, over his shoulder, as he rides back to his captain, (who won't get to be King of the Mountain today).
Marcel Proust whips out a pen, and an expensive linen note pad.
It is not often, writes Marcel Proust, that I find myself, having spent many troubling hours gazing at myself in a long mirror dressed in the costume of a clown in order to come to an understanding of what it is that distinguishes myself as a clown from my daily self, a self anything but humorous, and having achieved by my concentrated efforts something of the comic sense which normally eludes me, much to the chagrin of my mother, a woman given to reading the funny papers in secret when....
Marcel! Get to the point!
We shall come back later.
What else has been happening?
The teams have climbed the col de Montsegur, the Port de Lers, the Mur de Péguère and are now riding painfully up the Foix Prat d'Albis.
Alaphilippe tries valiantly not to lose seconds.
Tibaut Pinaut's legs go like a jackhammer.
So do Mikel Landa's.
Simon Yates doesn't even look tired.
Mouldy is nowhere to be seen.
His sock tops have tangled in the spokes of his bicycle, and he has slowed to a trickle.
He is passed by nearly everyone.
Terence waits at the finish with Belle and Grace Swan.
Here comes Simon Yates. First! Well done Simon!
Here comes Thibaut Pinot, back in contention.
Mikel Landa is third.
We'll be waiting a long time for Mouldy.
Let's go back and see if Marcel has completed his sentence.
Look over his shoulder. Mind his bright yellow wig.
......when she is alone in her chamber, I find myself in the position of acting as a possible helpmate the execution of which involves the suspension of clownness for a few moments while I remove my socks hurriedly and receive a tattered pair in exchange from a rider who before my eyes metamorphoses into Arthur Rimbaud, a friend I had thought unlikely to....
Yes, he still hasn't finished, but the gist seems to be, that he didn't mind swapping socks with Arthur, and probably, if we were to have the patience, we would eventually discover that he is pleased to have been invited to the picnic tomorrow.
Sweezus hopes to achieve his dream of being King of the Mountain.
I'd lend you my socks, says Arthur. They were super aerodynamic.
But what? says Sweezus.
But Terence cut the tops off, says Arthur.
What did he want them for? asks Sweezus.
Don't know, says Arthur. But they're unravelling.
They glance at his socks.
Threads are lengthening visibly, and flapping.
I might have to stop for a minute, says Arthur.
Shit, says Sweezus, can't you just lean down and roll the tops under?
You mean like this? says Arthur, leaning down and fiddling with his socks.
He wobbles. No way can he do it.
He stops, next to a clown.
Greetings, says Marcel. Sock trouble? Do take mine.
Thanks Marcel, says Arthur, effecting a quick change at the road side.
The socks of Marcel Proust are, understandably, clown socks.
Striped and loose,. But Arthur's legs are sturdier than Proust's are. The socks fit quite well.
Come to our picnic tomorrow, shouts Arthur, over his shoulder, as he rides back to his captain, (who won't get to be King of the Mountain today).
Marcel Proust whips out a pen, and an expensive linen note pad.
It is not often, writes Marcel Proust, that I find myself, having spent many troubling hours gazing at myself in a long mirror dressed in the costume of a clown in order to come to an understanding of what it is that distinguishes myself as a clown from my daily self, a self anything but humorous, and having achieved by my concentrated efforts something of the comic sense which normally eludes me, much to the chagrin of my mother, a woman given to reading the funny papers in secret when....
Marcel! Get to the point!
We shall come back later.
What else has been happening?
The teams have climbed the col de Montsegur, the Port de Lers, the Mur de Péguère and are now riding painfully up the Foix Prat d'Albis.
Alaphilippe tries valiantly not to lose seconds.
Tibaut Pinaut's legs go like a jackhammer.
So do Mikel Landa's.
Simon Yates doesn't even look tired.
Mouldy is nowhere to be seen.
His sock tops have tangled in the spokes of his bicycle, and he has slowed to a trickle.
He is passed by nearly everyone.
Terence waits at the finish with Belle and Grace Swan.
Here comes Simon Yates. First! Well done Simon!
Here comes Thibaut Pinot, back in contention.
Mikel Landa is third.
We'll be waiting a long time for Mouldy.
Let's go back and see if Marcel has completed his sentence.
Look over his shoulder. Mind his bright yellow wig.
......when she is alone in her chamber, I find myself in the position of acting as a possible helpmate the execution of which involves the suspension of clownness for a few moments while I remove my socks hurriedly and receive a tattered pair in exchange from a rider who before my eyes metamorphoses into Arthur Rimbaud, a friend I had thought unlikely to....
Yes, he still hasn't finished, but the gist seems to be, that he didn't mind swapping socks with Arthur, and probably, if we were to have the patience, we would eventually discover that he is pleased to have been invited to the picnic tomorrow.
Saturday, July 20, 2019
Stage Fourteen: Tarbes to Tourmalet Barèges - Give Me Socks
A mountain stage.
Anything could happen.
But first.
Mouldy is talking to Terence.
Terence is telling him that he ought to wear socks.
But, says Mouldy. My legs are too skinny.
But, says Terence, Arthur wore long socks yesterday.
But, says Mouldy, he nearly got disqualified.
But, says Terence, he didn't, and they made him go faster.
Give me socks and I'll think about it, says Mouldy.
Bang! The race starts.
Nietszche is riding next to Nairo Quintana.
Nairo Quintana looks good, but it's early days yet.
Nietzsche accelerates.
He catches up to Gaius.
How did you enjoy the funiculaire yesterday? asks Nietzsche.
What a jocular mood he is in, thinks Gaius.
Fine until I realised Terence was calling me grandpa, says Gaius.
Who is his grandpa? asks Nietzsche.
He normally thinks of Marx as his grandpa, says Gaius. Because of the beard.
So who is his real grandpa? pursues Nietzsche.
It's complicated, says Gaius. Who would you expect a so-called holy infant's grandpa to be?
You have lost me, says Nietzsche.
God, says Gaius. I know it's ridiculous.
Especially when God is dead, says Nietzsche.
On this they agree.
Sweezus rides past them on the slopes of the col du Soulor
Trying for KOM, says Sweezus.
Arthur is right behind him, in yesterday's socks.
Sprocket is sweating.
Vello and David are munching on Power Bars some way behind.
A clown is watching from a grass verge with a steep drop behind him.
Was that Proust? asks David.
Missed him, says Vello. What colour was his wig?
Yellow, says David.
Probably was him, says Vello.
Later, on the slopes of the Tourmalet.
Nairo Quintana is dropping back.
Bardet and Yates are flagging.
Julian Alaphillipe is going like someone inspired.
Thibaut Pinaut is determined to make up for those dastardly crosswinds that brought him bad luck on stage ten.
Two hundred and fifty metres from the finish he accelerates rapidly.
Weeeehah!
He powers to victory, beating Alaphilipppe by six seconds.
And obviously, everyone else.
Anything could happen.
But first.
Mouldy is talking to Terence.
Terence is telling him that he ought to wear socks.
But, says Mouldy. My legs are too skinny.
But, says Terence, Arthur wore long socks yesterday.
But, says Mouldy, he nearly got disqualified.
But, says Terence, he didn't, and they made him go faster.
Give me socks and I'll think about it, says Mouldy.
Bang! The race starts.
Nietszche is riding next to Nairo Quintana.
Nairo Quintana looks good, but it's early days yet.
Nietzsche accelerates.
He catches up to Gaius.
How did you enjoy the funiculaire yesterday? asks Nietzsche.
What a jocular mood he is in, thinks Gaius.
Fine until I realised Terence was calling me grandpa, says Gaius.
Who is his grandpa? asks Nietzsche.
He normally thinks of Marx as his grandpa, says Gaius. Because of the beard.
So who is his real grandpa? pursues Nietzsche.
It's complicated, says Gaius. Who would you expect a so-called holy infant's grandpa to be?
You have lost me, says Nietzsche.
God, says Gaius. I know it's ridiculous.
Especially when God is dead, says Nietzsche.
On this they agree.
Sweezus rides past them on the slopes of the col du Soulor
Trying for KOM, says Sweezus.
Arthur is right behind him, in yesterday's socks.
Sprocket is sweating.
Vello and David are munching on Power Bars some way behind.
A clown is watching from a grass verge with a steep drop behind him.
Was that Proust? asks David.
Missed him, says Vello. What colour was his wig?
Yellow, says David.
Probably was him, says Vello.
Later, on the slopes of the Tourmalet.
Nairo Quintana is dropping back.
Bardet and Yates are flagging.
Julian Alaphillipe is going like someone inspired.
Thibaut Pinaut is determined to make up for those dastardly crosswinds that brought him bad luck on stage ten.
Two hundred and fifty metres from the finish he accelerates rapidly.
Weeeehah!
He powers to victory, beating Alaphilipppe by six seconds.
And obviously, everyone else.
Friday, July 19, 2019
Stage Thirteen: Pau to Pau - Pow!
Stage thirteen.
Individual time trials.
There are many advantages to going early, says Vello.
Indeed there are, agrees David. For the rest of the day we'll be free.
We can look around Pau, says Vello.
Or relax in a café, says David. How about you, Gaius?
I've promised to take Terence on the funiculaire, says Gaius.
Best of luck, says Vello.
Nietzsche remains silent, because no one has asked him his plans.
Just as well because Sprocket is standing nearby. He is the next one to go in the time trials.
He would not want to know that Nietszche has a date with his mother.
Bang! Sprocket zips down the ramp, full of energy.
He passes Tony Martin, who is saving his energy today.
Sprocket is expending a great deal of energy, for average results.
Arthur is next to go. He was almost disqualified after yesterday.
Because of the Peruvian hat.
The rules are: no hats other than an approved cycling helmet.
Arthur had claimed innocence of the hat, it had been in his musette, he didn't know how it got there. He had thrown it away, it had caught a breeze, lifted, and dropped onto his head momentarily.
He was believed.
Arthur lives a charmed life.
Bang! Arthur zips down the chute.
Today he has extra long socks on.
Go Arthur! says Belle.
This is boring, says Terence.
Never mind, says Belle. You're going on the funicular railway with Gaius in the afternoon.
I wish it was now, whinges Terence.
Wish granted. It is now.
While Geraint Thomas and Julian Alaphillipe are still battling it out in the time trials, Terence is riding the funicular railway with Gaius.
He is pretending that Gaius is his grandpa.
It's easy. Gaius knows everything too.
Nietzsche and Grace Swan are at the Chateau de Pau, birthplace of Henry IV, looking at the turtle shell in which the infant Henry was cradled.
A turtle shell, says Grace Swan. If Sprocket ever becomes a father, I shall commission an artist to make one.
The child may not thank you, says Nietzsche.
Vello and David are sitting in a café drinking cafés au lait, and eating gateaux.
Arthur is getting his socks measured.
Fear not. He will not be disqualified.
Julian Alaphilippe is pounding to the finish. Sprint sprint.... can it be?... yes! He has beaten Geraint Thomas by fourteen seconds, and retains the yellow jersey for the glory of France, for at least one more day.
Individual time trials.
There are many advantages to going early, says Vello.
Indeed there are, agrees David. For the rest of the day we'll be free.
We can look around Pau, says Vello.
Or relax in a café, says David. How about you, Gaius?
I've promised to take Terence on the funiculaire, says Gaius.
Best of luck, says Vello.
Nietzsche remains silent, because no one has asked him his plans.
Just as well because Sprocket is standing nearby. He is the next one to go in the time trials.
He would not want to know that Nietszche has a date with his mother.
Bang! Sprocket zips down the ramp, full of energy.
He passes Tony Martin, who is saving his energy today.
Sprocket is expending a great deal of energy, for average results.
Arthur is next to go. He was almost disqualified after yesterday.
Because of the Peruvian hat.
The rules are: no hats other than an approved cycling helmet.
Arthur had claimed innocence of the hat, it had been in his musette, he didn't know how it got there. He had thrown it away, it had caught a breeze, lifted, and dropped onto his head momentarily.
He was believed.
Arthur lives a charmed life.
Bang! Arthur zips down the chute.
Today he has extra long socks on.
Go Arthur! says Belle.
This is boring, says Terence.
Never mind, says Belle. You're going on the funicular railway with Gaius in the afternoon.
I wish it was now, whinges Terence.
Wish granted. It is now.
While Geraint Thomas and Julian Alaphillipe are still battling it out in the time trials, Terence is riding the funicular railway with Gaius.
He is pretending that Gaius is his grandpa.
It's easy. Gaius knows everything too.
Nietzsche and Grace Swan are at the Chateau de Pau, birthplace of Henry IV, looking at the turtle shell in which the infant Henry was cradled.
A turtle shell, says Grace Swan. If Sprocket ever becomes a father, I shall commission an artist to make one.
The child may not thank you, says Nietzsche.
Vello and David are sitting in a café drinking cafés au lait, and eating gateaux.
Arthur is getting his socks measured.
Fear not. He will not be disqualified.
Julian Alaphilippe is pounding to the finish. Sprint sprint.... can it be?... yes! He has beaten Geraint Thomas by fourteen seconds, and retains the yellow jersey for the glory of France, for at least one more day.
Thursday, July 18, 2019
Stage Twelve: Toulouse to Bagnères-de-Bigorre - Ask the Mountain
A mountain stage.
Who will win it?
Let's ask the mountains.
Col de Peyresourde: I am wreathed in clouds. Your words have no meaning.
La Hourquette 'Ancizan: Ditto. No meaning at all.
Useless.
Let's see what Belle thinks.
She is at the first feeding station with Grace Swan.
Terence is poking his little cement fingers inside the musettes.
Grace Swan: What do you think of Sprocket's chances?
Belle: Sweezus says he's a natural.
Grace Swan: Did he say why?
Belle: He'll do anything Sweezus tells him.
Grace Swan: That's the trouble with my boy.
Belle: Terence! Stop taking the cakes out! Put them back in.
Terence: I was looking for something.
Belle: They're all crumbly.
Terence (shovelling the crumbles back in): Where's my Peruvian hat?
Belle: Not in a musette, silly.
Grace Swan: He's too suggestible.
Belle: Who, Sprocket? That's not a bad quality for a domestique.
Grace Swan: Nietszche's a domestique, isn't he?
Belle: A super domestique, yes. Vello's joke.
Grace Swan: He's asked me out to dinner.
Belle: Go for it. He hasn't had a date in five years.
Grace Swan: No kidding. Who was the last one?
Belle: Lauren Swales, mother of one of Sweezie's friends. His real name's Bob, but he calls himself Surfing-With-Whales.
Grace Swan: What's she like?
Belle: She practices Reiki. I think she was level three. That's the one where you don't even have to be near the person you're healing.
Grace Swan: Did they get on well?
Belle: At first. But best not to mention her name.
This is not helping either.
What's going on?
Here comes Rohan Dennis, looking mysterious.
Stopping. Why?
Here comes Team Philosophe for the crumbled cakes they don't yet know about.
Off they go, talking.
Here comes Team Condor.
What's Arthur wearing?
Terence's Peruvian hat.
A dare, probably.
Off they go, they have crumbled cakes as well.
......
So who did win?
Let's ask that mountain again.
La Houquette d'Ancizan: Since you asked, I paid attention. I believe it was Yates.
Who will win it?
Let's ask the mountains.
Col de Peyresourde: I am wreathed in clouds. Your words have no meaning.
La Hourquette 'Ancizan: Ditto. No meaning at all.
Useless.
Let's see what Belle thinks.
She is at the first feeding station with Grace Swan.
Terence is poking his little cement fingers inside the musettes.
Grace Swan: What do you think of Sprocket's chances?
Belle: Sweezus says he's a natural.
Grace Swan: Did he say why?
Belle: He'll do anything Sweezus tells him.
Grace Swan: That's the trouble with my boy.
Belle: Terence! Stop taking the cakes out! Put them back in.
Terence: I was looking for something.
Belle: They're all crumbly.
Terence (shovelling the crumbles back in): Where's my Peruvian hat?
Belle: Not in a musette, silly.
Grace Swan: He's too suggestible.
Belle: Who, Sprocket? That's not a bad quality for a domestique.
Grace Swan: Nietszche's a domestique, isn't he?
Belle: A super domestique, yes. Vello's joke.
Grace Swan: He's asked me out to dinner.
Belle: Go for it. He hasn't had a date in five years.
Grace Swan: No kidding. Who was the last one?
Belle: Lauren Swales, mother of one of Sweezie's friends. His real name's Bob, but he calls himself Surfing-With-Whales.
Grace Swan: What's she like?
Belle: She practices Reiki. I think she was level three. That's the one where you don't even have to be near the person you're healing.
Grace Swan: Did they get on well?
Belle: At first. But best not to mention her name.
This is not helping either.
What's going on?
Here comes Rohan Dennis, looking mysterious.
Stopping. Why?
Here comes Team Philosophe for the crumbled cakes they don't yet know about.
Off they go, talking.
Here comes Team Condor.
What's Arthur wearing?
Terence's Peruvian hat.
A dare, probably.
Off they go, they have crumbled cakes as well.
......
So who did win?
Let's ask that mountain again.
La Houquette d'Ancizan: Since you asked, I paid attention. I believe it was Yates.
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
Stage Eleven: Albi to Toulouse - Visualise
Another flat stage.
Although some of the scenery is high.
And even higher with crumbling castles atop it.
No one is looking however.
Caleb Ewan is determined to win today's stage.
He is concentrating deeply.
Visualising his win.
He is sprinting towards the finish, he is just behind Dylan Groenewegen, he is perfectly positioned , he moves out....go, go, go....
Bingo!
But it has not happened yet.
Sweezus is riding beside Sprocket, who is dejected.
His mother turned up at the picnic yesterday and dented his ego.
Don't worry about it, says Sweezus. You ride for the team, not your mother.
Yes, says Arthur, drawing up level. None of us rides for our mother.
It was just embarrassing, says Sprocket.
Yeah I know, says Sweezus. How about leading us out?
Okay, says Sprocket.
He whizzes forward.
Sweezus and Arthur follow.
They forget all about Sprocket's mother.
Another rider is finding it hard to forget her.
She had admired his lucky bracelet. She had been entranced by his meetings with saints.
She had seemed to understand his theories of self-overcoming.
And agreed when he claimed evolution could not be assumed to have finished.
She had offered him mushrooms.
Look at Nietzsche riding along in a daydream, says David.
I'll give him a task, says Vello.
Friedrich, how about going back to pick up some bidons?
Will do, says Nietzsche.
With any luck Grace Swan will be there with Belle and the bidons.
He drops back.
.....
It is now 30 k from the finish.
Mouldy has just threaded through the peloton, causing havoc.
Thirty riders are down, including Quintana, Ciccone and Porte.
But they recover and rejoin the peloton.
Things could be worse.
.....
It is close to the actual finish.
Caleb Ewan sprints towards the finish, just behind Dylan Groenewegen, he is perfectly positioned, he moves out....go, go, go....
Bingo!
Although some of the scenery is high.
And even higher with crumbling castles atop it.
No one is looking however.
Caleb Ewan is determined to win today's stage.
He is concentrating deeply.
Visualising his win.
He is sprinting towards the finish, he is just behind Dylan Groenewegen, he is perfectly positioned , he moves out....go, go, go....
Bingo!
But it has not happened yet.
Sweezus is riding beside Sprocket, who is dejected.
His mother turned up at the picnic yesterday and dented his ego.
Don't worry about it, says Sweezus. You ride for the team, not your mother.
Yes, says Arthur, drawing up level. None of us rides for our mother.
It was just embarrassing, says Sprocket.
Yeah I know, says Sweezus. How about leading us out?
Okay, says Sprocket.
He whizzes forward.
Sweezus and Arthur follow.
They forget all about Sprocket's mother.
Another rider is finding it hard to forget her.
She had admired his lucky bracelet. She had been entranced by his meetings with saints.
She had seemed to understand his theories of self-overcoming.
And agreed when he claimed evolution could not be assumed to have finished.
She had offered him mushrooms.
Look at Nietzsche riding along in a daydream, says David.
I'll give him a task, says Vello.
Friedrich, how about going back to pick up some bidons?
Will do, says Nietzsche.
With any luck Grace Swan will be there with Belle and the bidons.
He drops back.
.....
It is now 30 k from the finish.
Mouldy has just threaded through the peloton, causing havoc.
Thirty riders are down, including Quintana, Ciccone and Porte.
But they recover and rejoin the peloton.
Things could be worse.
.....
It is close to the actual finish.
Caleb Ewan sprints towards the finish, just behind Dylan Groenewegen, he is perfectly positioned, he moves out....go, go, go....
Bingo!
Tuesday, July 16, 2019
Rest Day: Albi - Open Your Heart
Rest day.
Belle has laid out a picnic on a grassy bank near the Cathédrale de Sainte-Cécile.
Team Condor has not yet arrived.
The sun shines on the red bricks of the cathedral.
Very plain on the outside, says David.
A stern message to Cathars, says Vello.
Might they come back? asks Gaius.
They already have, says Vello.
Try a junot, says Belle. But mind your teeth. The locals dip them in wine.
I'm all for that, says Vello, taking a triangular biscuit.
Snap!
That was the biscuit.
I have very good teeth, says Vello.
A bracing biscuit, says Gaius. Anise, but no sugar. I have good teeth as well.
Nevertheless you really should dip them, says Belle.
Nietzsche is eyeing the cathedral. He is not eating his junot. Nor sipping his Gailloc.
Team Condor arrives in a bunch sprint, with Terence in tow.
Sorry we're late, says Sweezus.
It was Mouldy's fault, says Terence.
You're not late, says Belle. You're just in time for the cassoulet.
She whips off a lid.
The delicious smell of pork cassoulet wafts out.
Everyone eats, except Terence and Nietzsche.
How's Team Philosophe going? asks Sweezus.
Muddling along, says Vello. But perhaps you should ask Nietzsche for his view.
Nietzsche discards his uneaten biscuit and prepares to answer.
Inexplicable things happen, says Nietszche. I rode up the wrong mountain. I met a saint who did not seem troubled by my warning.
What was your warning? asks Sprocket
In heaven, says Nietzsche, all the interesting people are missing.
Ha ha! laughs David. Did you tell him where he should go instead?
No, says Nietzsche. And then I met another one. Saint Flour, from whom I received a message.
What was it? asks Terence. The winner?
Open your heart, says Nietzsche.
What a lovely message, says Belle. Here, if you're not eating the cassoulet, try one of these.
She offers Nietzsche a bugne, which is the cousin of a donut, but shaped more like a mandrake root.
He tries it. Ah, sweetness! Not bad.
Perhaps he was being too anal.
He looks at his hand, in which is the half eaten bugne.
There is icing sugar on his fingers.
And some has fallen onto his lucky bracelet.
Belle pours more Gailloc into everyone's glasses.
And now, a surprise, says Belle. A person that some of you know is coming.
Sprocket hopes it isn't his mother.
No one hopes that it is.
None the less, it is Grace Swan who is walking towards them, with a basket of chanterelles, a bunch of pink garlic and two bottles of local peach wine.
Belle has laid out a picnic on a grassy bank near the Cathédrale de Sainte-Cécile.
Team Condor has not yet arrived.
The sun shines on the red bricks of the cathedral.
Very plain on the outside, says David.
A stern message to Cathars, says Vello.
Might they come back? asks Gaius.
They already have, says Vello.
Try a junot, says Belle. But mind your teeth. The locals dip them in wine.
I'm all for that, says Vello, taking a triangular biscuit.
Snap!
That was the biscuit.
I have very good teeth, says Vello.
A bracing biscuit, says Gaius. Anise, but no sugar. I have good teeth as well.
Nevertheless you really should dip them, says Belle.
Nietzsche is eyeing the cathedral. He is not eating his junot. Nor sipping his Gailloc.
Team Condor arrives in a bunch sprint, with Terence in tow.
Sorry we're late, says Sweezus.
It was Mouldy's fault, says Terence.
You're not late, says Belle. You're just in time for the cassoulet.
She whips off a lid.
The delicious smell of pork cassoulet wafts out.
Everyone eats, except Terence and Nietzsche.
How's Team Philosophe going? asks Sweezus.
Muddling along, says Vello. But perhaps you should ask Nietzsche for his view.
Nietzsche discards his uneaten biscuit and prepares to answer.
Inexplicable things happen, says Nietszche. I rode up the wrong mountain. I met a saint who did not seem troubled by my warning.
What was your warning? asks Sprocket
In heaven, says Nietzsche, all the interesting people are missing.
Ha ha! laughs David. Did you tell him where he should go instead?
No, says Nietzsche. And then I met another one. Saint Flour, from whom I received a message.
What was it? asks Terence. The winner?
Open your heart, says Nietzsche.
What a lovely message, says Belle. Here, if you're not eating the cassoulet, try one of these.
She offers Nietzsche a bugne, which is the cousin of a donut, but shaped more like a mandrake root.
He tries it. Ah, sweetness! Not bad.
Perhaps he was being too anal.
He looks at his hand, in which is the half eaten bugne.
There is icing sugar on his fingers.
And some has fallen onto his lucky bracelet.
Belle pours more Gailloc into everyone's glasses.
And now, a surprise, says Belle. A person that some of you know is coming.
Sprocket hopes it isn't his mother.
No one hopes that it is.
None the less, it is Grace Swan who is walking towards them, with a basket of chanterelles, a bunch of pink garlic and two bottles of local peach wine.
Monday, July 15, 2019
Stage Ten: Saint-Flour to Albi - Splits
A flat stage today. A transition.
So they all say.
But they have not allowed for the cross winds.
And raw ambition.
.....
At the start in Saint-Flour, Nietzsche is approached by a sturdy old fellow.
Are you the one who rode up the wrong mountain?
Yes, admits Nietzsche. I shan't do that today.
A message for you, says the sturdy old fellow.
Nietzsche waits.
I am Saint-Flour, says the old one.
Nietzsche rolls his eyes. Not another!
Open your heart, says the old one.
Is that the best you can do? asks Nietzsche. You do realise I'm competing in the Tour de France.
But tomorrow is a rest day, says Saint-Flour. There will no doubt be a picnic.
Thank you, says Nietzsche. I'll take that on board. Now, if you'll excuse me...
Certainly, says Saint Flour, striking a rock with his staff, (which I neglected to mention).
Water dribbles out.
......
Sunshine, on the long ride towards Albi.
Lilian Calmejane attacks early.
He wants to win in his hometown of Albi.
But he is reined in.
.....
pedal pedal...
Arthur is bored.
He takes out a banana.
Sweezus and Sprocket have not brought bananas.
Arthur splits the banana.
......
Thirty five k from the finish:
The croswinds cause chaos.
A bunch split.
Thomas is on the right side of it, wouldn't you know it.
Pinot, Fuglsang, Uran and Porte are trapped behind.
They lose a valuable minute forty.
.....
Vello is thinking about tomorrow, a rest day.
Not before time.
Team Philosphe is not as young as it used to be.
He hopes Belle will provide a good picnic.
.....
The finish. It was always going to be the sprinters.
It is.
Wout van Aert, Elia Viviani and Caleb Ewan, in that order.
Third. Caleb won't be happy.
So they all say.
But they have not allowed for the cross winds.
And raw ambition.
.....
At the start in Saint-Flour, Nietzsche is approached by a sturdy old fellow.
Are you the one who rode up the wrong mountain?
Yes, admits Nietzsche. I shan't do that today.
A message for you, says the sturdy old fellow.
Nietzsche waits.
I am Saint-Flour, says the old one.
Nietzsche rolls his eyes. Not another!
Open your heart, says the old one.
Is that the best you can do? asks Nietzsche. You do realise I'm competing in the Tour de France.
But tomorrow is a rest day, says Saint-Flour. There will no doubt be a picnic.
Thank you, says Nietzsche. I'll take that on board. Now, if you'll excuse me...
Certainly, says Saint Flour, striking a rock with his staff, (which I neglected to mention).
Water dribbles out.
......
Sunshine, on the long ride towards Albi.
Lilian Calmejane attacks early.
He wants to win in his hometown of Albi.
But he is reined in.
.....
pedal pedal...
Arthur is bored.
He takes out a banana.
Sweezus and Sprocket have not brought bananas.
Arthur splits the banana.
......
Thirty five k from the finish:
The croswinds cause chaos.
A bunch split.
Thomas is on the right side of it, wouldn't you know it.
Pinot, Fuglsang, Uran and Porte are trapped behind.
They lose a valuable minute forty.
.....
Vello is thinking about tomorrow, a rest day.
Not before time.
Team Philosphe is not as young as it used to be.
He hopes Belle will provide a good picnic.
.....
The finish. It was always going to be the sprinters.
It is.
Wout van Aert, Elia Viviani and Caleb Ewan, in that order.
Third. Caleb won't be happy.
Sunday, July 14, 2019
Stage Nine: Saint Etienne to Brioude - Times Gone By
Another hilly stage.
Once again, Team Condor does not have a man in the breakaway.
Nor does Team Philosophe.
Vello rides steadily, his eye on his wrist.
The new lucky bracelet. Delightful.
David fiddles with his own bracelet. It's loose. But he does not falter.
Gaius has his in his pocket, not liking any form of flamboyance.
Nietzsche eyes his with suspicion.
Where have these lucky bracelets come from?
Wait. Up ahead the breakaway is approaching the summit of the Mur d'Aurac.
The crowds are cheering and getting too close to the riders.
Clowns toot and laugh.
Tiesj Benoot gets the King of the Mountain!
Now where were we?
Back here near the bottom.
The lucky bracelets are not just any lucky bracelets.
Belle bought them from the Musée d'Art et Industrie in Saint Etienne.
They weren't cheap, as you may well imagine.
They are woven in traditional patterns, and are tiny bright reminders of gentle times gone by.
How nice of Belle to slip one into each lunch bag yesterday.
Onward and upward! says Vello.
Nietzsche stares at his lucky bracelet. It is pink with red zigzags. A series of white squares tracks through the centre.
The lucky bracelet stares back at him.
A sweaty man.
Not the owner it might have expected.
It sees Sweezus ride by. And Arthur and Sprocket.
It sees Richie Porte and Roman Bardet.
And Julian Alaphillipe.
They all need some kind of luck today.
Except maybe Arthur.
And yet, thinks the bracelet, I would rather be wrapped round the wrist of Arthur than the others.
And what is happening up ahead now, at the finish?
It's between Daryl Impey and Tiesj Benoot who have dropped Nicolas Roche and are battling it out together.
Impey, Benoot, Impey, Benoot, Impey........
Impey!
Once again, Team Condor does not have a man in the breakaway.
Nor does Team Philosophe.
Vello rides steadily, his eye on his wrist.
The new lucky bracelet. Delightful.
David fiddles with his own bracelet. It's loose. But he does not falter.
Gaius has his in his pocket, not liking any form of flamboyance.
Nietzsche eyes his with suspicion.
Where have these lucky bracelets come from?
Wait. Up ahead the breakaway is approaching the summit of the Mur d'Aurac.
The crowds are cheering and getting too close to the riders.
Clowns toot and laugh.
Tiesj Benoot gets the King of the Mountain!
Now where were we?
Back here near the bottom.
The lucky bracelets are not just any lucky bracelets.
Belle bought them from the Musée d'Art et Industrie in Saint Etienne.
They weren't cheap, as you may well imagine.
They are woven in traditional patterns, and are tiny bright reminders of gentle times gone by.
How nice of Belle to slip one into each lunch bag yesterday.
Onward and upward! says Vello.
Nietzsche stares at his lucky bracelet. It is pink with red zigzags. A series of white squares tracks through the centre.
The lucky bracelet stares back at him.
A sweaty man.
Not the owner it might have expected.
It sees Sweezus ride by. And Arthur and Sprocket.
It sees Richie Porte and Roman Bardet.
And Julian Alaphillipe.
They all need some kind of luck today.
Except maybe Arthur.
And yet, thinks the bracelet, I would rather be wrapped round the wrist of Arthur than the others.
And what is happening up ahead now, at the finish?
It's between Daryl Impey and Tiesj Benoot who have dropped Nicolas Roche and are battling it out together.
Impey, Benoot, Impey, Benoot, Impey........
Impey!
Saturday, July 13, 2019
Stage Eight: Mâcon to Saint Etienne - Intervention
A hilly stage, with 3800 metres of ascending elevation.
At the start of the climb up the Cote d'Aveize ( last categorised climb of the day):
Vello: Tell me again why we do this,
David: Because every year YOU insist.
Vello: And you give in. Leaving me in this position.
David: The entire team is in this position.
Vello: Except Nietzsche. Where is he?
David: He's somewhere up ahead with Mouldy.
Vello: How the dickens does he keep up with Mouldy?
David: No idea. Anyway, seems he didn't. Here he is now.
Gaius: Well done, Friedrich!
Nietzsche: What for?
Gaius: Keeping up with Mouldy, if only for a short spell. What have you learned?
Nietszche: It seems he gained his predictive powers during his time with the thrombolites.
Gaius: Indeed? Did he claim that the thrombolites passed on their predictive powers to him, or that he gained the powers independently?
Nietzsche: I failed to ask him that question.
David: Tut!
Vello: It would have been my first question.
Nietzsche: I was more interested in results, not method. For example, would you like to know who's going to win today's stage?
Vello: Thomas de Gendt, unless the fates decide otherwise.
Nietzsche: Remarkable. That's what Mouldy predicted. How did you know?
Vello: De Gendt has remained in the breakaway all day and been first to top every mountain.
Nietzsche: There are more ways than one to skin a cat I suppose.
Gaius; Clever. I must write that down.
Nietzsche: Don't bother. I didn't invent it.
David: Anyone got any food left?
Vello: Let me feel around. What's this?
He pulls out a beautifully woven short velvet ribbon.
Vello: A lucky bracelet! How sweet!
But you can't eat a bracelet.
Which is why Team Philosophe in spite of best efforts don't distinguish themselves in the hilly sections today.
Thomas de Gendt wins the stage as he always seemed to be going to.
The fates have not intervened here.
Not here. But they may have had something to do with what happened 16 k from the finish, when Michael Woods crashed, and Gianni Moscon's bike split in half, and Geraint Thomas had to stop, although not for too long.
At the start of the climb up the Cote d'Aveize ( last categorised climb of the day):
Vello: Tell me again why we do this,
David: Because every year YOU insist.
Vello: And you give in. Leaving me in this position.
David: The entire team is in this position.
Vello: Except Nietzsche. Where is he?
David: He's somewhere up ahead with Mouldy.
Vello: How the dickens does he keep up with Mouldy?
David: No idea. Anyway, seems he didn't. Here he is now.
Gaius: Well done, Friedrich!
Nietzsche: What for?
Gaius: Keeping up with Mouldy, if only for a short spell. What have you learned?
Nietszche: It seems he gained his predictive powers during his time with the thrombolites.
Gaius: Indeed? Did he claim that the thrombolites passed on their predictive powers to him, or that he gained the powers independently?
Nietzsche: I failed to ask him that question.
David: Tut!
Vello: It would have been my first question.
Nietzsche: I was more interested in results, not method. For example, would you like to know who's going to win today's stage?
Vello: Thomas de Gendt, unless the fates decide otherwise.
Nietzsche: Remarkable. That's what Mouldy predicted. How did you know?
Vello: De Gendt has remained in the breakaway all day and been first to top every mountain.
Nietzsche: There are more ways than one to skin a cat I suppose.
Gaius; Clever. I must write that down.
Nietzsche: Don't bother. I didn't invent it.
David: Anyone got any food left?
Vello: Let me feel around. What's this?
He pulls out a beautifully woven short velvet ribbon.
Vello: A lucky bracelet! How sweet!
But you can't eat a bracelet.
Which is why Team Philosophe in spite of best efforts don't distinguish themselves in the hilly sections today.
Thomas de Gendt wins the stage as he always seemed to be going to.
The fates have not intervened here.
Not here. But they may have had something to do with what happened 16 k from the finish, when Michael Woods crashed, and Gianni Moscon's bike split in half, and Geraint Thomas had to stop, although not for too long.
Friday, July 12, 2019
Stage Seven: Belfort to Chalon-sur-Saône - Coin Flip
A flat stage, and the longest.
Offredo and Rossetto form an early breakaway.
Offredo: Do you ever feel as though ....
Rossetto: ...we're in a play? Yes.
Offredo: Like in Shakespeare?
Rossetto: Exactly. And every entrance is an exit somewhere else.
Offredo: Wait. That's not how it goes.
Rossetto: Want to bet on it?
Offredo: Okay. A coin flip. You call heads or tails.
He produces a coin from the depths of his drinks flap.
......
Sprocket is riding behind Caleb Ewan, who is one of today's favourites.
He draws alongside.
Hey, says Caleb Ewan. Cool bike you've got there.
Yeah, says Sprocket. I modified it. It belonged to a legend.
Yeah who? asks Caleb Ewan.
Schopenhauer, says Sprocket. See this saddle?
What about it? asks Caleb.
Tells me things, says Sprocket.
My saddle tells me things too, says Caleb.
The wrong things, says Sprocket. Sometimes.
Like what? asks Caleb.
Life is suffering, says Sprocket. Negative stuff. I try and rise above it.
Me too, says Caleb.
He speeds up.
Sweezus catches up to Sprocket.
What did Ewan say? asks Sweezus.
Life is suffering, says Sprocket,
Yeah, says Sweezus. One of the Four Noble Truths.
Is it? says Sprocket.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Did you hear about Mouldy?
No, what? asks Sprocket.
Terence reckons Mouldy always knows who'll be the winner.
No kidding, says Sprocket. That's kind of not useful information.
True, says Sweezus. If you knew it wasn't you, you might stop trying.
And that would affect the outcome, says Sprocket. I get it. So, who is?
You really want me to tell you? asks Sweezus.
No, says Sprocket.
.....
Thirteen k from the finish.
Offredo and Rossetto are still flipping
Offredo has won ninety two times.
Offredo: I'm just as surprised as you are.
Rossetto: Let's see that coin.
They fumble, and at 12 k from the finish are finally caught and passed by the sprinters.
Who are they?
Dylan Groenewegen, Caleb Ewan, Peter Sagan.
One of whom Mouldy predicted to be the stage winner.
They do not yet know who it is.
(Clue: in the fore-mentioned order).
Offredo and Rossetto form an early breakaway.
Offredo: Do you ever feel as though ....
Rossetto: ...we're in a play? Yes.
Offredo: Like in Shakespeare?
Rossetto: Exactly. And every entrance is an exit somewhere else.
Offredo: Wait. That's not how it goes.
Rossetto: Want to bet on it?
Offredo: Okay. A coin flip. You call heads or tails.
He produces a coin from the depths of his drinks flap.
......
Sprocket is riding behind Caleb Ewan, who is one of today's favourites.
He draws alongside.
Hey, says Caleb Ewan. Cool bike you've got there.
Yeah, says Sprocket. I modified it. It belonged to a legend.
Yeah who? asks Caleb Ewan.
Schopenhauer, says Sprocket. See this saddle?
What about it? asks Caleb.
Tells me things, says Sprocket.
My saddle tells me things too, says Caleb.
The wrong things, says Sprocket. Sometimes.
Like what? asks Caleb.
Life is suffering, says Sprocket. Negative stuff. I try and rise above it.
Me too, says Caleb.
He speeds up.
Sweezus catches up to Sprocket.
What did Ewan say? asks Sweezus.
Life is suffering, says Sprocket,
Yeah, says Sweezus. One of the Four Noble Truths.
Is it? says Sprocket.
Yeah, says Sweezus. Did you hear about Mouldy?
No, what? asks Sprocket.
Terence reckons Mouldy always knows who'll be the winner.
No kidding, says Sprocket. That's kind of not useful information.
True, says Sweezus. If you knew it wasn't you, you might stop trying.
And that would affect the outcome, says Sprocket. I get it. So, who is?
You really want me to tell you? asks Sweezus.
No, says Sprocket.
.....
Thirteen k from the finish.
Offredo and Rossetto are still flipping
Offredo has won ninety two times.
Offredo: I'm just as surprised as you are.
Rossetto: Let's see that coin.
They fumble, and at 12 k from the finish are finally caught and passed by the sprinters.
Who are they?
Dylan Groenewegen, Caleb Ewan, Peter Sagan.
One of whom Mouldy predicted to be the stage winner.
They do not yet know who it is.
(Clue: in the fore-mentioned order).
Thursday, July 11, 2019
Stage Six: Mulhouse to La Planche des Belles Filles - Banana
I'm not resentful of the success of others, says Nietszche, at breakfast.
Just as well, says Vello.
Suffering is a necessary component of good things, continues Nietzsche.
He offers Gaius the other half of his banana.
Thank you, says Gaius. Waste not want not.
Thus spake Zarathustra, says David.
Ha ha! laughs Vello.
What's so funny? asks Nietzsche.
Nothing, says Vello. Just don't ride up the wrong mountain today.
I've already apologised, says Nietszche.
I know, says Vello. Now, today will be even harder. Seven categorised climbs ending at La Planche des Belles Filles.
With an added kilometre at the end, says David. I must say, I don't feel I need that.
Super Planche, says Belle. That's what they call the extra steep part.
Belles Filles, says Gaius. Beautiful girls. I wonder where the name came from?
Beeches, says David. Belles Fahys.
How do you know? asks Vello.
Wiki, says David.
Gaius's phone rings.
Hello! Shu! How goes it? Chinese! Absolutely certain? Hum. I should like to see the proof.... what's that? Oh yes, he's been zipping about, causing annoyance, but he's not with us. No not with Team Condor either. Yes, it's his bike. Oh dear! Really? All right I'll see what I can do. Bye now.
What's up? asks Belle. Was your spider Chinese?
Yes, says Gaius. The Chinese say so.
Hum, says Vello.
That's what I said, says Gaius.
Terence comes in. He has been standing outside watching the teams assemble.
Ah, Terence, says Gaius. Where is Mouldy?
Talking to the winner, says Terence.
We don't yet know the winner, says David.
Mouldy does, says Terence. He always tells me.
Who'll win today? asks Vello.
The guy he's talking to, says Terence.
Gaius goes across to the window.
But he can't see Mouldy.
He returns to the table.
I can't see him, says Gaius. When you see him, tell him that Baby Pierre is apprehensive about his bicycle.
Okay, says Terence.
.....
The stage.
Seven categorised climbs.
It would be pleasant except that you have to ride fast and the weather looks dodgy.
Crowds cheer at the tops of the climbs.
Some of them wear red and white polka dot tee shirts.
Enough of that.
It's nearly the finish.
The guy Mouldy was talking to has remained in the breakaway.
So has Dylan Teuns.
Pedal pedal....
Teuns wins! A Belgian!
And the guy Mouldy was talking to comes second!
Who was it?
Giulio Ciccone! So Mouldy was wrong?
Not really. Ciccone, being better placed in the GC, gets the yellow jersey!
So you could argue Mouldy was right.
Just as well, says Vello.
Suffering is a necessary component of good things, continues Nietzsche.
He offers Gaius the other half of his banana.
Thank you, says Gaius. Waste not want not.
Thus spake Zarathustra, says David.
Ha ha! laughs Vello.
What's so funny? asks Nietzsche.
Nothing, says Vello. Just don't ride up the wrong mountain today.
I've already apologised, says Nietszche.
I know, says Vello. Now, today will be even harder. Seven categorised climbs ending at La Planche des Belles Filles.
With an added kilometre at the end, says David. I must say, I don't feel I need that.
Super Planche, says Belle. That's what they call the extra steep part.
Belles Filles, says Gaius. Beautiful girls. I wonder where the name came from?
Beeches, says David. Belles Fahys.
How do you know? asks Vello.
Wiki, says David.
Gaius's phone rings.
Hello! Shu! How goes it? Chinese! Absolutely certain? Hum. I should like to see the proof.... what's that? Oh yes, he's been zipping about, causing annoyance, but he's not with us. No not with Team Condor either. Yes, it's his bike. Oh dear! Really? All right I'll see what I can do. Bye now.
What's up? asks Belle. Was your spider Chinese?
Yes, says Gaius. The Chinese say so.
Hum, says Vello.
That's what I said, says Gaius.
Terence comes in. He has been standing outside watching the teams assemble.
Ah, Terence, says Gaius. Where is Mouldy?
Talking to the winner, says Terence.
We don't yet know the winner, says David.
Mouldy does, says Terence. He always tells me.
Who'll win today? asks Vello.
The guy he's talking to, says Terence.
Gaius goes across to the window.
But he can't see Mouldy.
He returns to the table.
I can't see him, says Gaius. When you see him, tell him that Baby Pierre is apprehensive about his bicycle.
Okay, says Terence.
.....
The stage.
Seven categorised climbs.
It would be pleasant except that you have to ride fast and the weather looks dodgy.
Crowds cheer at the tops of the climbs.
Some of them wear red and white polka dot tee shirts.
Enough of that.
It's nearly the finish.
The guy Mouldy was talking to has remained in the breakaway.
So has Dylan Teuns.
Pedal pedal....
Teuns wins! A Belgian!
And the guy Mouldy was talking to comes second!
Who was it?
Giulio Ciccone! So Mouldy was wrong?
Not really. Ciccone, being better placed in the GC, gets the yellow jersey!
So you could argue Mouldy was right.
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
Stage Five: Saint-Dié to Colmar - Racing Sausage
Morning. Before the start of Stage Five.
Vello: What's in our musettes today?
David. Yes, what? The cheese, champagne and chocolates were delicious but overly fatty.
Nietszche: And I normally only drink water.
Belle: You had water.
Nietszche: I beg to differ.
Belle: Perhaps the musettes got mixed up.
Vello: So what's today's lunch?
Belle: Andouillettes, from Nancy.
Gaius: Andouillettes? Remind me what they are.
Belle: Pork sausages encased in small intestine. They may have a very strong aroma.
Vello: Andouillettes! My favourite racing sausage!
David: As long as you keep to the front.
Gaius: Understood. They'll encourage us to try hard on the four hill climbs.
Nietzsche. I'm in favour of that.
David: Well done, Belle.
Belle: Thanks. It's my job.
.....
Sweezus is talking to Richie.
Richie: How's your new team member going?
Sweezus: Sprocket? Bit too keen.
Richie: Looking forward to this stage?
Sweezus: Yeah. You?
Richie: Yeah. For me, the race starts today.
Sweezus: Advice. Watch out for Mouldy.
Richie: No worries. I will.
....
Later, on the final hill climb.
Nietszche is riding alone. He has eaten a sausage.
He sees an old man at the side of the road and slows down.
Old man: Greetings! Can you direct me to the old monastery?
Nietzsche: No. I'm not from here.
Old man: Have you been eating andouillettes?
Nietzsche: I have. How can you tell?
Old man: When they make use of the colon, there's a distinctive aroma.
Nietzsche: I wondered what that foul taste was. Are you a monk, by any chance?
Old man: Not these days. I go by the name of Saint-Dié.
Nietzsche: A saint! I always wanted to meet one!.
Old man: Why is that, my son?
Nietzsche: For the opportunity to tell you, there are no interesting people in heaven.
Old man: I never thought of it that way.
Nietzsche continues onwards and upwards.
Where is everyone?
Perhaps he has climbed the wrong mountain.
......
And so have we.
But what is that cheering we can faintly hear drifting across the valley?
It's for Peter Sagan!
Vello: What's in our musettes today?
David. Yes, what? The cheese, champagne and chocolates were delicious but overly fatty.
Nietszche: And I normally only drink water.
Belle: You had water.
Nietszche: I beg to differ.
Belle: Perhaps the musettes got mixed up.
Vello: So what's today's lunch?
Belle: Andouillettes, from Nancy.
Gaius: Andouillettes? Remind me what they are.
Belle: Pork sausages encased in small intestine. They may have a very strong aroma.
Vello: Andouillettes! My favourite racing sausage!
David: As long as you keep to the front.
Gaius: Understood. They'll encourage us to try hard on the four hill climbs.
Nietzsche. I'm in favour of that.
David: Well done, Belle.
Belle: Thanks. It's my job.
.....
Sweezus is talking to Richie.
Richie: How's your new team member going?
Sweezus: Sprocket? Bit too keen.
Richie: Looking forward to this stage?
Sweezus: Yeah. You?
Richie: Yeah. For me, the race starts today.
Sweezus: Advice. Watch out for Mouldy.
Richie: No worries. I will.
....
Later, on the final hill climb.
Nietszche is riding alone. He has eaten a sausage.
He sees an old man at the side of the road and slows down.
Old man: Greetings! Can you direct me to the old monastery?
Nietzsche: No. I'm not from here.
Old man: Have you been eating andouillettes?
Nietzsche: I have. How can you tell?
Old man: When they make use of the colon, there's a distinctive aroma.
Nietzsche: I wondered what that foul taste was. Are you a monk, by any chance?
Old man: Not these days. I go by the name of Saint-Dié.
Nietzsche: A saint! I always wanted to meet one!.
Old man: Why is that, my son?
Nietzsche: For the opportunity to tell you, there are no interesting people in heaven.
Old man: I never thought of it that way.
Nietzsche continues onwards and upwards.
Where is everyone?
Perhaps he has climbed the wrong mountain.
......
And so have we.
But what is that cheering we can faintly hear drifting across the valley?
It's for Peter Sagan!
Tuesday, July 9, 2019
Stage Four: Reims to Nancy - Something Italian
This stage is flat.
A good one for the sprinters.
The favourites are Sagan, Ewan and Viviani.
There are no sprinters in Team Philosophe.
A leisurely ride today, says Vello. Through Champagne country.
Leisurely? says Gaius. That seems unwise.
It does, says Nietzsche. That which does not kill us makes us stronger.
Except in the case of eels, says Vello.
Ha ha, laughs David. He's right.
Much as I admire you, says Nietzsche, we shouldn't rest on our laurels.
Why don't you try and join the breakaway, says David.
Fine idea! says Nietzsche. I will.
He speeds up. Then he speeds up further,
He sees the breakaway up ahead.
Schär, Backaert and Offredo see him coming.
Who is this fool behind us? says Offredo.
Nietzsche, says Schär, looking round.
They easily draw away from Nietzsche, who is running on empty.
When is lunch? wonders Nietzsche. And what will it be?
At the feeding station, Belle waits with Terence, and four packed musettes.
Nietzsche gets the first one. Ach! Nearly dropped it!
Lucky you didn't, thinks Belle.
Inside the musette are two elegant cheeses, a truffle, three Roses de Reims biscuits and a chocolate. Also a small bottle.
Could it be champagne?
The team was not happy with the bananas and water of yesterday. So it could be.
He's WINNING! says Terence.
Not yet, says Belle.
But the fine food and champagne do not help Nietzsche.
With eleven k to go. Lilian Calmejane attacks.
He is soon drawn back by the peloton.
What he had for lunch is a mystery.
With one k to go, Elia Viviani makes the most of his lunch and his team mates to overtake Alex Kristoff right at the finish.
What did he have for lunch?
Probably something Italian.
A good one for the sprinters.
The favourites are Sagan, Ewan and Viviani.
There are no sprinters in Team Philosophe.
A leisurely ride today, says Vello. Through Champagne country.
Leisurely? says Gaius. That seems unwise.
It does, says Nietzsche. That which does not kill us makes us stronger.
Except in the case of eels, says Vello.
Ha ha, laughs David. He's right.
Much as I admire you, says Nietzsche, we shouldn't rest on our laurels.
Why don't you try and join the breakaway, says David.
Fine idea! says Nietzsche. I will.
He speeds up. Then he speeds up further,
He sees the breakaway up ahead.
Schär, Backaert and Offredo see him coming.
Who is this fool behind us? says Offredo.
Nietzsche, says Schär, looking round.
They easily draw away from Nietzsche, who is running on empty.
When is lunch? wonders Nietzsche. And what will it be?
At the feeding station, Belle waits with Terence, and four packed musettes.
Nietzsche gets the first one. Ach! Nearly dropped it!
Lucky you didn't, thinks Belle.
Inside the musette are two elegant cheeses, a truffle, three Roses de Reims biscuits and a chocolate. Also a small bottle.
Could it be champagne?
The team was not happy with the bananas and water of yesterday. So it could be.
He's WINNING! says Terence.
Not yet, says Belle.
But the fine food and champagne do not help Nietzsche.
With eleven k to go. Lilian Calmejane attacks.
He is soon drawn back by the peloton.
What he had for lunch is a mystery.
With one k to go, Elia Viviani makes the most of his lunch and his team mates to overtake Alex Kristoff right at the finish.
What did he have for lunch?
Probably something Italian.
Monday, July 8, 2019
Stage Three: Binche to Epernay - Dancing Wisely
It's stage three. Goodbye to Belgium.
Hello to France.
The teams speed past flat fields, green, brown and yellow, with a tail wind.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket consider a breakaway.
But others have already broken.
We'll get our chance later, says Sweezus.
We should make our mark, says Sprocket.
Save your legs for the hilly last section, says Sweezus.
Sprocket speeds ahead anyway.
There's no telling Sprocket.
Sprocket catches up to Richie.
Sprocket doesn't know Richie.
But Richie knows him.
Hey Sprocket, says Richie. Good work yesterday.
Sprocket is glad that someone has noticed his work for Team Condor.
Advice for today. Save your legs for the hilly last section, says Richie.
No way, says Sprocket. Use it or lose it.
Wisely, says Richie. Use it wisely or lose it.
Sprocket speeds up, unwisely.
He soon draws level with Team Philosophe who are riding together.
He passes.
Sprocket's riding full gas, says David.
Full gas, says Nietzsche. I like that expression.
He speeds up to ride full gas too.
Soon he has caught up with Sprocket.
And those who were dancing were thought insane by those who could not hear the music, says Nietzsche.
Uh? says Sprocket.
Just a thought, says Nietzsche. You and I have something in common.
Sprocket hopes not.
Belle is waiting at the feeding station with bananas and water.
Sprocket grabs a musette.
Nietzsche grabs another.
Mouldy zooms past, slows, does a u-ey, cycles back slowly and stops.
Can I have a banana? asks Terence.
No, says Belle. You don't eat bananas.
It's for Mouldy says Terence.
I'm sure Mouldy doesn't eat bananas, says Belle.
I don't, says Mouldy. I need water.
See, says Terence.
No, fresh, says Mouldy. I got a taste for it at Lake Clifton.
Belle tips water over Mouldy.
OMG! says Mouldy. That's good.
He speeds off again.
Time passes.
Sprocket tires. He has not saved his legs.
Tim Wellens has.
But Wellens is caught by Alaphilippe at the the top of Côte de Mutigny, with 16 k to go.
They ride together, until alas! a flat tyre for Wellens.
Julian Alaphilippe goes solo, with good legs for the hilly last section.
Hello to France.
The teams speed past flat fields, green, brown and yellow, with a tail wind.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket consider a breakaway.
But others have already broken.
We'll get our chance later, says Sweezus.
We should make our mark, says Sprocket.
Save your legs for the hilly last section, says Sweezus.
Sprocket speeds ahead anyway.
There's no telling Sprocket.
Sprocket catches up to Richie.
Sprocket doesn't know Richie.
But Richie knows him.
Hey Sprocket, says Richie. Good work yesterday.
Sprocket is glad that someone has noticed his work for Team Condor.
Advice for today. Save your legs for the hilly last section, says Richie.
No way, says Sprocket. Use it or lose it.
Wisely, says Richie. Use it wisely or lose it.
Sprocket speeds up, unwisely.
He soon draws level with Team Philosophe who are riding together.
He passes.
Sprocket's riding full gas, says David.
Full gas, says Nietzsche. I like that expression.
He speeds up to ride full gas too.
Soon he has caught up with Sprocket.
And those who were dancing were thought insane by those who could not hear the music, says Nietzsche.
Uh? says Sprocket.
Just a thought, says Nietzsche. You and I have something in common.
Sprocket hopes not.
Belle is waiting at the feeding station with bananas and water.
Sprocket grabs a musette.
Nietzsche grabs another.
Mouldy zooms past, slows, does a u-ey, cycles back slowly and stops.
Can I have a banana? asks Terence.
No, says Belle. You don't eat bananas.
It's for Mouldy says Terence.
I'm sure Mouldy doesn't eat bananas, says Belle.
I don't, says Mouldy. I need water.
See, says Terence.
No, fresh, says Mouldy. I got a taste for it at Lake Clifton.
Belle tips water over Mouldy.
OMG! says Mouldy. That's good.
He speeds off again.
Time passes.
Sprocket tires. He has not saved his legs.
Tim Wellens has.
But Wellens is caught by Alaphilippe at the the top of Côte de Mutigny, with 16 k to go.
They ride together, until alas! a flat tyre for Wellens.
Julian Alaphilippe goes solo, with good legs for the hilly last section.
Sunday, July 7, 2019
Stage Two: Bruxelles Palais Royal to Atomium - In The Tube
Team time trials.
Which team will be the fastest?
Belle stands at the finish with Terence.
Terence is bored.
He has finished his mazes and asked all his riddles.
He looks down.
His little cement feet are restless.
He looks up.
What's that thing? asks Terence.
Team Ineos crosses the finish line.
Woo! That's a top time!
Belle looks where Terence is looking.
The Atomium, says Belle. Later on, I might take you inside it.
I want to go NOW! says Terence.
A clown is standing behind them.
I'll take him, says the clown. I can get in for nothing.
Thanks, but no thanks. says Belle. I don't know you.
You do, says the clown.
Marcel Proust, for a wonder!
The time trials have barely started, says Marcel. With your permission, dear Belle, I will take him to the top sphere where he can gaze at the entire panorama of Bruxelles and compare it to photographs of how it looked in 1958 when the structure was first built for the Expo, following which I shall lead him through tubes to the various exhibitions including a sound and light show although I ought to warn you that inside the tubes there is often an unpleasant smell....
Off you go then, says Belle, cutting him off mid-sentence. I'll be waiting right here.
Terence scowls.
Boo. People might think the clown is his grandpa.
Belle waits.
Team Philosophe crosses the finish line.
In a really slow time.
Belle claps encouragingly.
Eels, mouths Vello, rubbing his belly.
Even Nietzsche looks green.
She resolves not to buy eels again.
....
Looks like Team Ineos has clocked the best time, and Deceuninck-Quickstep the second. Just one more team to finish.
Here they come now, this is amazing!
It's Team Jumbo-Visma in black and yellow. Have they got rockets behind them?
They smash it by a good twenty seconds.
Teunisson will keep the yellow jersey.
Belle looks up at the Atomium to see if Terence is by chance looking down.
But Terence is passing through a smelly tube with a clown at the moment.
Which team will be the fastest?
Belle stands at the finish with Terence.
Terence is bored.
He has finished his mazes and asked all his riddles.
He looks down.
His little cement feet are restless.
He looks up.
What's that thing? asks Terence.
Team Ineos crosses the finish line.
Woo! That's a top time!
Belle looks where Terence is looking.
The Atomium, says Belle. Later on, I might take you inside it.
I want to go NOW! says Terence.
A clown is standing behind them.
I'll take him, says the clown. I can get in for nothing.
Thanks, but no thanks. says Belle. I don't know you.
You do, says the clown.
Marcel Proust, for a wonder!
The time trials have barely started, says Marcel. With your permission, dear Belle, I will take him to the top sphere where he can gaze at the entire panorama of Bruxelles and compare it to photographs of how it looked in 1958 when the structure was first built for the Expo, following which I shall lead him through tubes to the various exhibitions including a sound and light show although I ought to warn you that inside the tubes there is often an unpleasant smell....
Off you go then, says Belle, cutting him off mid-sentence. I'll be waiting right here.
Terence scowls.
Boo. People might think the clown is his grandpa.
Belle waits.
Team Philosophe crosses the finish line.
In a really slow time.
Belle claps encouragingly.
Eels, mouths Vello, rubbing his belly.
Even Nietzsche looks green.
She resolves not to buy eels again.
....
Looks like Team Ineos has clocked the best time, and Deceuninck-Quickstep the second. Just one more team to finish.
Here they come now, this is amazing!
It's Team Jumbo-Visma in black and yellow. Have they got rockets behind them?
They smash it by a good twenty seconds.
Teunisson will keep the yellow jersey.
Belle looks up at the Atomium to see if Terence is by chance looking down.
But Terence is passing through a smelly tube with a clown at the moment.
Saturday, July 6, 2019
Stage One: Bruxelles to Brussel - Blameless
Saturday in Brussels. The Grand Départ.
The teams have departed. They ride on a flat road. They loop southwards through Flanders.
Déjà vu, says Sweezus.
Green trees, says Arthur. Grass, haystacks and boxy grey houses.
You guys, says Sprocket.
What? says Sweezus.
It's cool, says Sprocket.
Greg van Avermaet passes, in a breakaway.
Mouldy is hot on his trail.
Pity we couldn't register him, says Sweezus. He'd be an asset.
He might still be an asset, says Arthur.
They slow down. There's no point in joining the breakaway.
Some distance back, Vello and David are lamenting.
I shouldn't have eaten those eels, says Vello. My stomach is cramping.
Likewise, says David. But it sounded so tempting. Eels in the green.
I wonder what the green was? says Vello.
I'd need to see it again, says David.
That's quite likely, says Vello
Nietzsche is riding beside Gaius.
How are you finding it? asks Gaius.
Easy, so far, says Nietzsche. I look forward to the mountains.
Excellent, says Gaius. You should do well.
Richie Porte catches up.
Hello Richie, says Gaius. Better luck this year.
Thanks, says Richie. All good so far. Hey, was that Baby Pierre who buzzed past me a while ago?
No that was Mouldy, says Gaius. If you want some free advice, avoid him.
Yeah, he looks dangerous, says Richie.
He speeds up, in his white kit with more red this year.
Nice fellow, says Gaius.
....
It's the final ten k.
Fuglsang has gone down and got up again, with a cut near his eye.
In this, Mouldy was blameless.
A big crash in the pack has brought Groenewegen down.
Mouldy may not have been blameless.
Mike Teunisson hangs on in the front.
A Dutchman.
It is thirty years since the yellow jersey has been worn by a Dutchman.
He goes like the clappers, avoiding Mouldy.
It's him or Peter Sagan. Or Caleb Ewan.
Fantastisch!
It's him!
The teams have departed. They ride on a flat road. They loop southwards through Flanders.
Déjà vu, says Sweezus.
Green trees, says Arthur. Grass, haystacks and boxy grey houses.
You guys, says Sprocket.
What? says Sweezus.
It's cool, says Sprocket.
Greg van Avermaet passes, in a breakaway.
Mouldy is hot on his trail.
Pity we couldn't register him, says Sweezus. He'd be an asset.
He might still be an asset, says Arthur.
They slow down. There's no point in joining the breakaway.
Some distance back, Vello and David are lamenting.
I shouldn't have eaten those eels, says Vello. My stomach is cramping.
Likewise, says David. But it sounded so tempting. Eels in the green.
I wonder what the green was? says Vello.
I'd need to see it again, says David.
That's quite likely, says Vello
Nietzsche is riding beside Gaius.
How are you finding it? asks Gaius.
Easy, so far, says Nietzsche. I look forward to the mountains.
Excellent, says Gaius. You should do well.
Richie Porte catches up.
Hello Richie, says Gaius. Better luck this year.
Thanks, says Richie. All good so far. Hey, was that Baby Pierre who buzzed past me a while ago?
No that was Mouldy, says Gaius. If you want some free advice, avoid him.
Yeah, he looks dangerous, says Richie.
He speeds up, in his white kit with more red this year.
Nice fellow, says Gaius.
....
It's the final ten k.
Fuglsang has gone down and got up again, with a cut near his eye.
In this, Mouldy was blameless.
A big crash in the pack has brought Groenewegen down.
Mouldy may not have been blameless.
Mike Teunisson hangs on in the front.
A Dutchman.
It is thirty years since the yellow jersey has been worn by a Dutchman.
He goes like the clappers, avoiding Mouldy.
It's him or Peter Sagan. Or Caleb Ewan.
Fantastisch!
It's him!
Friday, July 5, 2019
Chaos Pursues Us
The plane lands in Brussels.
Everyone piles out.
Where's our hotel? asks Vello.
Ask Gaius, says David. He knows.
No, says Gaius. I don't know.
This smacks of disaster, says Nietzsche.
Wah! says Terence. We've got nowhere to go!
Wait! says Gaius. Arthur will have booked something.
He calls out to Arthur, who is just getting into a taxi.
They converse for a moment.
Gaius returns.
Hotel Marivaux, says Gaius. But we'll be sharing a room with Team Condor.
What a stuff up, says Vello. And the race starts tomorrow.
They get into a taxi and go.
.....
Hotel Marivaux. A former theatre, art deco style.
The two teams are shown to one room.
This isn't going to work, says Sweezus.
Of course it isn't, says Belle. We'll ask for a bigger one.
.......
No luck. The Tour de France starts tomorrow. It's impossible.
We'll have to make the best of it, says Belle. Eight adults plus Terence. Terence, you can sleep in the Trunkie. The rest of us can sleep in shifts. It's not ideal.
No it isn't, says Sweezus. And this is our room.
Are you saying we aren't welcome to share it? asks David. Of course, you're perfectly entitled.
He is, says Vello. But he may not have a job to go back to.
Nietzsche is interested to observe these dynamics.
Sometimes it is necessary to hurt people in the name of great things. Yes, must write that down later.
Terence has opened his Trunkie.
He has pulled out his Peruvian hat.
Then Mouldy, and Baby Pierre's tiny bicycle.
Chaos pursues us! says Vello.
It's only Mouldy, says Terence. He wanted to come.
Mouldy is bursting with energy, having been cooped up with a hat for so long.
He leaps onto the bicycle, and starts doing doing laps of the art deco furniture.
Zoom!
Sweezus wonders if it's too late to register a fourth rider.
Everyone piles out.
Where's our hotel? asks Vello.
Ask Gaius, says David. He knows.
No, says Gaius. I don't know.
This smacks of disaster, says Nietzsche.
Wah! says Terence. We've got nowhere to go!
Wait! says Gaius. Arthur will have booked something.
He calls out to Arthur, who is just getting into a taxi.
They converse for a moment.
Gaius returns.
Hotel Marivaux, says Gaius. But we'll be sharing a room with Team Condor.
What a stuff up, says Vello. And the race starts tomorrow.
They get into a taxi and go.
.....
Hotel Marivaux. A former theatre, art deco style.
The two teams are shown to one room.
This isn't going to work, says Sweezus.
Of course it isn't, says Belle. We'll ask for a bigger one.
.......
No luck. The Tour de France starts tomorrow. It's impossible.
We'll have to make the best of it, says Belle. Eight adults plus Terence. Terence, you can sleep in the Trunkie. The rest of us can sleep in shifts. It's not ideal.
No it isn't, says Sweezus. And this is our room.
Are you saying we aren't welcome to share it? asks David. Of course, you're perfectly entitled.
He is, says Vello. But he may not have a job to go back to.
Nietzsche is interested to observe these dynamics.
Sometimes it is necessary to hurt people in the name of great things. Yes, must write that down later.
Terence has opened his Trunkie.
He has pulled out his Peruvian hat.
Then Mouldy, and Baby Pierre's tiny bicycle.
Chaos pursues us! says Vello.
It's only Mouldy, says Terence. He wanted to come.
Mouldy is bursting with energy, having been cooped up with a hat for so long.
He leaps onto the bicycle, and starts doing doing laps of the art deco furniture.
Zoom!
Sweezus wonders if it's too late to register a fourth rider.
Thursday, July 4, 2019
Danger And Play
Most of the teams are in Brussels already.
Riding down cobbled streets, being applauded.
There goes Richie Porte, of team Trek Segafredo.
In a white kit with more red this year.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket are still in Dubai.
Sweezus is looking at Richie Porte's Twitter feed.
He shows the photo to Arthur.
Nice kit. I thought we were getting new kits this time, says Arthur.
Turns out we aren't, says Sweezus.
What's ours look like? asks Sprocket.
Same as last year, says Sweezus.
Cream bike knicks, green jersey. Dark brown drinks pouch. We look like tree frogs, says Arthur.
Do I get one? asks Sprocket.
Sure you do, says Sweezus. It's Pablo's. He was skinny like you.
How come he's not here? asks Sprocket.
Got a job, says Sweezus. Diplomat or something.
Awesome, says Sprocket. So that means it's just the three of us.
Yeah, says Sweezus. We could really use one more.
Attention! Time for boarding.
They board the plane for Brussels, and sit near the back.
Team Philosophe is on the same flight, but further forward.
Vello, David and Gaius settle down quickly.
Nietzsche fusses. His overhead locker won't close.
Let me do it, says Belle.
She stands up to do it. The problem is Terence's Trunkie.
She moves it sideways, and sits down.
Terence is in the window seat, next to Nietzsche.
Terence has a puzzle book, with mazes and jokes, to keep him busy.
Nietzsche gazes out of the window, and thinks philosophical thoughts.
The true man wants two things. Danger and play. Yes, that's worth writing down.
Belle wonders if she should have sat in the middle.
Terence has done all the mazes and is up to the jokes page.
He can't read very well. He tugs at Nietzsche.
What is it? asks Nietzsche. I'm thinking.
This IS thinking, says Terence. What does it say?
Nietzsche looks down. What do race horses eat? says Nietzsche.
Hamburgers, says Terence.
Wrong. Fast food, says Nietzsche.
O, but isn't he clever to have nearly got the right answer! says Belle.
Terence looks proud.
How long to Brussels? thinks Nietzsche.
Up in the overhead locker, inside the Trunkie, wedged between a Peruvian hat and a tiny bicycle, Mouldy is wondering that too.
Riding down cobbled streets, being applauded.
There goes Richie Porte, of team Trek Segafredo.
In a white kit with more red this year.
Sweezus, Arthur and Sprocket are still in Dubai.
Sweezus is looking at Richie Porte's Twitter feed.
He shows the photo to Arthur.
Nice kit. I thought we were getting new kits this time, says Arthur.
Turns out we aren't, says Sweezus.
What's ours look like? asks Sprocket.
Same as last year, says Sweezus.
Cream bike knicks, green jersey. Dark brown drinks pouch. We look like tree frogs, says Arthur.
Do I get one? asks Sprocket.
Sure you do, says Sweezus. It's Pablo's. He was skinny like you.
How come he's not here? asks Sprocket.
Got a job, says Sweezus. Diplomat or something.
Awesome, says Sprocket. So that means it's just the three of us.
Yeah, says Sweezus. We could really use one more.
Attention! Time for boarding.
They board the plane for Brussels, and sit near the back.
Team Philosophe is on the same flight, but further forward.
Vello, David and Gaius settle down quickly.
Nietzsche fusses. His overhead locker won't close.
Let me do it, says Belle.
She stands up to do it. The problem is Terence's Trunkie.
She moves it sideways, and sits down.
Terence is in the window seat, next to Nietzsche.
Terence has a puzzle book, with mazes and jokes, to keep him busy.
Nietzsche gazes out of the window, and thinks philosophical thoughts.
The true man wants two things. Danger and play. Yes, that's worth writing down.
Belle wonders if she should have sat in the middle.
Terence has done all the mazes and is up to the jokes page.
He can't read very well. He tugs at Nietzsche.
What is it? asks Nietzsche. I'm thinking.
This IS thinking, says Terence. What does it say?
Nietzsche looks down. What do race horses eat? says Nietzsche.
Hamburgers, says Terence.
Wrong. Fast food, says Nietzsche.
O, but isn't he clever to have nearly got the right answer! says Belle.
Terence looks proud.
How long to Brussels? thinks Nietzsche.
Up in the overhead locker, inside the Trunkie, wedged between a Peruvian hat and a tiny bicycle, Mouldy is wondering that too.
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
Love Of French Poodles
Vello, David, Gaius and Nietzsche are cycling up Greenhill Road.
At first they stick together, until the road steepens.
Nietzsche forges ahead.
He has the best bike, says Vello.
He has, says David. Perhaps we should make him team leader.
Very funny, says Vello.
I'm out of condition, puffs Gaius. I'm dropping back.
I'll drop back with you, says Vello.
So will I, says David.
It's not really dropping back then, says Vello.
It is, says David.
It is.
Soon they are caught up by Sprocket.
He is trialling his new bike.
He has made many modifications in the short time available.
But kept the San Marco saddle.
He zooms past the Team Philosophe triad.
That was Sprocket! says Gaius.
That surprises me, says David.
On Schopenhauer's bicycle, says Gaius. He's modified it.
I see he kept the saddle, says David. The seat of Schopenhauer's influence.
Did you ever ride it? asks Vello.
Once, says David. It gave me a love of French poodles.
You don't say, says Vello. I never knew you had a love of French poodles.
I don't, says David. It left me as soon as I climbed off the saddle.
Vello laughs, but Gaius is thinking of Schopenhauer's love of French poodles.
And how he also liked cats.
Sweezus and Arthur ride up behind him.
Hey, Gaius! says Sweezus. Seen Sprocky?
He passed us some time ago, says Gaius. He'll be at the summit.
He is.
Sprocket and Nietzsche are both at the summit, in the Mount Lofty café.
They have ordered espressos and water, but are not touching the coffee.
As they wait for their team mates Nietzsche asks Sprocket why he has a gold question mark on his forehead.
And Sprocket asks Nietzsche what he thinks of French poodles.
At first they stick together, until the road steepens.
Nietzsche forges ahead.
He has the best bike, says Vello.
He has, says David. Perhaps we should make him team leader.
Very funny, says Vello.
I'm out of condition, puffs Gaius. I'm dropping back.
I'll drop back with you, says Vello.
So will I, says David.
It's not really dropping back then, says Vello.
It is, says David.
It is.
Soon they are caught up by Sprocket.
He is trialling his new bike.
He has made many modifications in the short time available.
But kept the San Marco saddle.
He zooms past the Team Philosophe triad.
That was Sprocket! says Gaius.
That surprises me, says David.
On Schopenhauer's bicycle, says Gaius. He's modified it.
I see he kept the saddle, says David. The seat of Schopenhauer's influence.
Did you ever ride it? asks Vello.
Once, says David. It gave me a love of French poodles.
You don't say, says Vello. I never knew you had a love of French poodles.
I don't, says David. It left me as soon as I climbed off the saddle.
Vello laughs, but Gaius is thinking of Schopenhauer's love of French poodles.
And how he also liked cats.
Sweezus and Arthur ride up behind him.
Hey, Gaius! says Sweezus. Seen Sprocky?
He passed us some time ago, says Gaius. He'll be at the summit.
He is.
Sprocket and Nietzsche are both at the summit, in the Mount Lofty café.
They have ordered espressos and water, but are not touching the coffee.
As they wait for their team mates Nietzsche asks Sprocket why he has a gold question mark on his forehead.
And Sprocket asks Nietzsche what he thinks of French poodles.
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
The Philosopher's Bicycle
Nietzsche stands up to go.
He is due for a practice run with Team Philosophe, before lunch.
See you later, says Sweezus.
Neitzsche goes.
He hasn't touched his espresso.
How come he ordered it if he wasn't going to drink it? asks Sprocket.
Strange guy, says Sweezus. He only drinks water.
But orders espresso, says Arthur.
Yeah well, he likes to fit in, says Sweezus.
What bike is he riding? asks Arthur.
Cannondale Synapse, says Sweezus. Vulcan green.
Good one, says Arthur. My bike needs a tune up.
Mine too, says Sweezus.
I'm good at that kind of stuff, says Sprocket.
Then you'll be an asset, says Sweezus. We ought to go for a practice. What bike have you got?
I haven't got one, says Sprocket.
No worries, says Sweezus. You can borrow that one Gaius keeps in his shed.
It's not a racer, says Arthur. It belonged to Schopenhauer. Custom made by the guy at the Treadly Bike Shop.
Schwelbe tyres, Knog lights, San Marco saddle, says Sweezus. Yeah, you might need to do a few mods. Let's go and have a look at it.
Who's Schopenhauer? asks Sprocket.
Old guy. Philosopher, says Sweezus. Story goes, if you ride his bike, his thoughts come through. Messes with your head if you're not aware of it.
Lucky you told me, says Sprocket. Like what sort of thoughts did he have?
The purpose of our existence is not to be happy, says Sweezus. That's actually not a bad one when you're riding up a ball crushing mountain.
The will is devoid of intellect and rationality, says Arthur. That's useful too.
Sure is, says Sprocket.
He is due for a practice run with Team Philosophe, before lunch.
See you later, says Sweezus.
Neitzsche goes.
He hasn't touched his espresso.
How come he ordered it if he wasn't going to drink it? asks Sprocket.
Strange guy, says Sweezus. He only drinks water.
But orders espresso, says Arthur.
Yeah well, he likes to fit in, says Sweezus.
What bike is he riding? asks Arthur.
Cannondale Synapse, says Sweezus. Vulcan green.
Good one, says Arthur. My bike needs a tune up.
Mine too, says Sweezus.
I'm good at that kind of stuff, says Sprocket.
Then you'll be an asset, says Sweezus. We ought to go for a practice. What bike have you got?
I haven't got one, says Sprocket.
No worries, says Sweezus. You can borrow that one Gaius keeps in his shed.
It's not a racer, says Arthur. It belonged to Schopenhauer. Custom made by the guy at the Treadly Bike Shop.
Schwelbe tyres, Knog lights, San Marco saddle, says Sweezus. Yeah, you might need to do a few mods. Let's go and have a look at it.
Who's Schopenhauer? asks Sprocket.
Old guy. Philosopher, says Sweezus. Story goes, if you ride his bike, his thoughts come through. Messes with your head if you're not aware of it.
Lucky you told me, says Sprocket. Like what sort of thoughts did he have?
The purpose of our existence is not to be happy, says Sweezus. That's actually not a bad one when you're riding up a ball crushing mountain.
The will is devoid of intellect and rationality, says Arthur. That's useful too.
Sure is, says Sprocket.
Monday, July 1, 2019
Who Causes Havoc, Who Doesn't
Gaius arrives at the Velosophy office.
Come in, says Vello. How was your trip?
Moderately successful, says Gaius. We found a potential new species of spider. It's on its way to China, as we speak.
A most enterprising spider, says David.
With Shu, says Gaius. He is in a glass bottle.
Does he come out to pee? asks Vello.
Pardon? says Gaius.
Shu, says Vello. Does he?
Does he what? asks Gaius.
Come out of the glass bottle to pee, says David. Don't worry, Vello knows very well it's the spider.
Then why ask? says Gaius. And speaking of asking, what happened to you?
I realised camping wasn't for me, says David. The food was inadequate. Arthur and Sprocket drove me to Pemberton, where I jumped ship and came back to Adelaide to work on my fitness.
I didn't notice you were missing until it was time to leave, says Gaius.
There you go, says David. I was redundant. Whereas here I am part of a team.
Yes, says Vello. A valuable member of Team Philosophe. By the way, we have a new team member, Friedrich Nietzsche. You remember him, Gaius?
Of course, says Gaius. A good physique. He'll be an asset.
He's our super domestique. says David. Vello gave him that title.
Excellent, says Gaius. By the way you'll be pleased to know that Baby Pierre won't be around to upset things this year. He's gone to China.
I'm not pleased at all, says Vello. Now who will upset things?
Ha ha, laughs Gaius. Perhaps Terence? But at least Terence doesn't ride a tiny bicycle and cause havoc.
Belle comes in with a bag of grapes. She tips a large bunch into a bowl and places it on the table.
Grapes! says Vello. Can you still get them in July?
Yes, says Belle. If you search long enough. What was that about Terence?
At the Tour de France, Baby Pierre causes havoc, whereas Terence doesn't, says Vello. It's a disappointment. You know how I love havoc.
Don't be silly, says Belle. Anyone would think you were planning to use Baby Pierre for your own ends. Remember, you've got Nietzsche in your team now.
Yes, he's very straight laced, says David. He'll keep us on the straight and narrow.
That's not what I meant. Have you actually read him? asks Belle.
Selected quotes, admits David.
Come in, says Vello. How was your trip?
Moderately successful, says Gaius. We found a potential new species of spider. It's on its way to China, as we speak.
A most enterprising spider, says David.
With Shu, says Gaius. He is in a glass bottle.
Does he come out to pee? asks Vello.
Pardon? says Gaius.
Shu, says Vello. Does he?
Does he what? asks Gaius.
Come out of the glass bottle to pee, says David. Don't worry, Vello knows very well it's the spider.
Then why ask? says Gaius. And speaking of asking, what happened to you?
I realised camping wasn't for me, says David. The food was inadequate. Arthur and Sprocket drove me to Pemberton, where I jumped ship and came back to Adelaide to work on my fitness.
I didn't notice you were missing until it was time to leave, says Gaius.
There you go, says David. I was redundant. Whereas here I am part of a team.
Yes, says Vello. A valuable member of Team Philosophe. By the way, we have a new team member, Friedrich Nietzsche. You remember him, Gaius?
Of course, says Gaius. A good physique. He'll be an asset.
He's our super domestique. says David. Vello gave him that title.
Excellent, says Gaius. By the way you'll be pleased to know that Baby Pierre won't be around to upset things this year. He's gone to China.
I'm not pleased at all, says Vello. Now who will upset things?
Ha ha, laughs Gaius. Perhaps Terence? But at least Terence doesn't ride a tiny bicycle and cause havoc.
Belle comes in with a bag of grapes. She tips a large bunch into a bowl and places it on the table.
Grapes! says Vello. Can you still get them in July?
Yes, says Belle. If you search long enough. What was that about Terence?
At the Tour de France, Baby Pierre causes havoc, whereas Terence doesn't, says Vello. It's a disappointment. You know how I love havoc.
Don't be silly, says Belle. Anyone would think you were planning to use Baby Pierre for your own ends. Remember, you've got Nietzsche in your team now.
Yes, he's very straight laced, says David. He'll keep us on the straight and narrow.
That's not what I meant. Have you actually read him? asks Belle.
Selected quotes, admits David.
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