Tour de France (or Yorkshire) – Day 1
Essential preparations for watching the tour
We took the train to Skipton. On arrival The Mother declared it coffee time. I don’t know I’ve ever been to Skipton before, but we soon found a coffee shop, with seating for all five of us (Parents, Midget, Boyfriend and I). How the Father manages such magic is beyond my comprehension.
When the Midget and the Father are involved, coffee has a tendency to become second breakfast. After three full English breakfasts, two toasted teacakes, three orange juices, two coffees, a tea, a hot chocolate with cream and a ‘Tour de Yorkshire‘ magnet, we returned to Skipton’s heaving streets to watch the caravan.
The caravan is a form of marketing in another league to my work. It’s a carnival of big brands, many of them French. Despite both being short and behind a substantial pack of excited Northerners, Midget and Mother got to work at catching freebies..
The best of the freebies were the Haribo, and despite both Mother and Midget catching Haribo, neither offered me a single sweet.
Once the caravan had passed our group split. The parents were less bothered in actually getting close to the cyclists, whereas the Boyfriend was on a mission.
Finding the perfect spot
He led the Midget and I away from the high street, and into one of the fields on the edge of the town. We trekked across this field. Of course I was unprepared and only wearing flimsy pumps. We strode up the hill to find a gate, or rather the Boyfriend strode and the Midget and I tried to keep up. In the next field we weren’t so lucky, whilst we could see the road we couldn’t find a gate. Since we’d vaguely followed a footpath, ish, and as there were people in the next field, we skipped over the barbed wire fence and hopped over a wall.
The crowds were thinner here than they had been in town, but it wasn’t good enough for the Boyfriend, so we continued walking up the hill, towards Leeds and Harrogate. Here we found a roundabout, with enough space that we could quite comfortably sit on the tarmac.
Some small children joined us. Small children can be a blessing as sat in front of us they were small enough to not obstruct our sight, but when a man came and stood in front of us all, blocking our view, I didn’t have any reservation about asking him to please move. The children’s parents, who had been tensing in that protective parent manner, vocalised their support for my gentle persuasion. The Boyfriend rolled his eyes and the Midget gave me a look as if to say ‘only my sister’, but the children enjoyed their front line view.
The bicycle race
Mark Cavendish is the blurred man in the middle. My photography skills, like my cycling, are improving, but only slowly. I know so little about bicycle races that I have no clever observation to write here.
After the race – getting home, slowly
Of course, once the cyclists had whizzed passed. And it took all of 20 seconds. We set off back down the hill into Skipton to get the train home. If you saw any of the TV footage you’ll have realised that every Yorkshireman, and many non-Yorkshire men were on the Tour route. The streets were crowded. Every now and again a rogue police car or ambulance tried to make its way through the crowds and catch up with the cyclists. Everyone was suddenly thrown to the sides torn between their desire to hurry onwards and the urge to cheer at every passing vehicle.
I let the Boyfriend and Midget wander off together to watch more of the tour on the big screen in the centre of the town, whilst I popped into a shop and bought some walking boots. We then headed back towards the train station, via the fire station where the Midget and I bought cups of Yorkshire tea. You could also buy plastic fireman hats but they were too small for my head.
By this time the queue to the train station wasn’t too bad. There was a band playing whilst we waited in the sunshine, and railway staff and police handed out free bottles of water to anyone who looked even slightly thirsty.
Back at the house, we met up with the Grandparents who had come to visit for a barbecue and ready to join us for the Tour, day 2…
Did you get to see any of the bicycle madness?