Friday Five: Le Tour Facts

Eugene Christophe, who rode his first TdF in 1906 and his last in 1925, when he was aged 40.

The other day while I was waiting to meet Him Outdoors in a cafe, I picked up a book of photos released to commemorate the 100th Tour de France. Of course, it may be the hundredth race this year, but it is not 100 years since the first one: Le Tour did not take place between 1915-1920 and 1940-45. It seems that only war can stop the tour. It was very saddening to read that so many young men of phenomenal athletic ability who had ridden this incredible race, including winners Lucien Petit-Breton, Francois Faber and Octave Lapize, were killed in the wars.

As I flicked through the photos, I was struck by many differences both great and incidental: every spectator in the early shots is wearing a hat, whereas none of the riders are wearing helmets. Some of the roads are now sealed as opposed to the gravel, and the towns have grown, but the mountains remain the same. And although the bikes are now made of carbon fibre and state-of-the-art gearing, they are still just a frame on wheels. The bike is an amazing invention, and France is a fabulous country through which to ride.

5 Tour Trivia Tidbits:

1. The winner of the very first Tour de France (in 1903) was disqualified for taking the train - now that's blatant!
2. Le Tour has finished in Bordeaux more than in any other city, other than Paris
3. The first death at Le Tour occured in 1910 when Adolphe Heliere was stung by a jellyfish while bathing off the cost of Nice on a rest day
4. Originally cyclists were allowed no outside assistance (pictures show them carrying their own spare tyres slung across their chests). In 1913 the forks of Eugene Christophe's bike broke in the Pyrenees. He carried his bike 14km to the nearest village to repair them at a forge. Unfortunately the lad operating the bellows was judged to have been helping and Christophe was given a four-hour time penalty. That 326km stage took him 17 hours and 44 minutes to complete. (The Swiss rider Celidonio Morini took 21 hours and 24 minutes)
5. The starts were between midnight and 6am to allow the riders to finish in daylight hours.

Friday Five: Figurative Flowers

5 Emblematic Blooms:

Remembrance poppies at the Australian War Memorial

1. Poppy – The symbol of sleep, peace and death. Sleep because of the opium extracted from them and death because of their blood-red colour. Memorable images include the magical poppy field in L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in which Dorothy are chums are almost lulled to eternal sleep, and the blood red blooms on Flanders’ fields that recall more than a million sacrifices. Lest we forget.
2. Red Rose – UK Labour Party; House of Lancaster; England Rugby; socialism; romantic love – combined with the white rose of York to become the Tudor Rose and national flower of England. With its combination of powerful scent, dramatic beauty and viscous thorns, it is beloved of playwrights and poets form Shakespeare and Robert Burns to Gertrude Stein and Poison.
3. Daffodil – Wales and the Cancer Society. As daffodils are part of the narcissus family, they also represent vanity. Appearing at spring in the Northern hemisphere, the yellow daffodil is associated with new beginnings and particularly Easter (the German word for daffodil is ‘Osterglocke’, meaning Easter bell). Thanks to William Wordsworth’s (in)famous poem, it also represents The Lake District for many.
4. Sunflower – Honesty; Happiness; Faith; Adoration; Vegan Society; Cancer Support – individually they are remarkable and together they are glorious. From the fields of gold the cyclists ride past in the Tour de France to Van Gogh’s crazy brilliant blooms or Ai Weiwei’s Tate/Unliever-commissioned sculpture of ten tonnes of porcelain seed husks, they have stunning visual impact. It was thought that the sunflower (girasol) turns its head to follow the sun until sixteenth-century romance-busting botanist John Gerard pointed out this was only true of the immature buds but the adult plants grew out of it. Despite that, this is still a beautiful flower quote from the film Calendar Girls:

   "The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire. Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious. Then very quickly they all go to seed. Which makes it ironic my favourite flower isn't even indigenous to the British Isles, let alone Yorkshire. I don't think there's anything on this planet that more trumpets life that the sunflower. For me that's because of the reason behind its name. Not because it looks like the sun but because it follows the sun. During the course of the day, the head tracks the journey of the sun across the sky. A satellite dish for sunshine. Wherever light is, no matter how weak, these flowers will find it. And that's such an admirable thing. And such a lesson in life."

5. Forget-me-Not – True love; Faithfulness; Remembrance; Freemasonry; Alzheimer’s Association – Henry IV adopted the flower as a symbol of his exile in 1398. It grows madly in English spring gardens and woodlands, particularly by riverbanks as it prefers moist habitats and can tolerate partial sun and shade. I love the delicate little blooms and the subtle fragrance which develops in the evenings although they have little scent during the day, and I incorporated it into my bridal bouquet.

My Newest Favourite Thing: Team Sky

Wow! What a team. What a performance. What a commitment! I've heard people say that they are boring - clearly these people know nothing about cycling and are probably the same people that say that Spain are boring at football. It's a team sport. And what a sport. These guys are supreme athletes. I'm speechless. All aboard the Sky Train!

And I know I've banged on about Cavendish before, but he is truely remarkable, so I will again. The acceleration is incredible, and to win on the Champs Elysees for the fourth time in a row, is a stunning achievement. He'll always have Paris.

And Bradley Wiggins... what can I say? A fabulous and worthy winner. A great winning speech - 'It's time to draw the raffle numbers' - and a passion and to commitment to the sport. Yes, I'm patriotic and yes, it's wonderful to see a British rider win Le Tour. But it's even more amazing to see the yellow jersey lead out the World Champion in the final sprint. The Sky Train has been brilliant. Every rider has pedalled his socks off and I love it all.

 

And the Olympic road race is in less than a week's time. At the last Olympics I was suffering slightly from dual nationality syndrome. No such dilemmas this time. You go boys; bring it home!

Green Goblin

Congratulations to Mark Cavendish on winning his eighteenth Tour de France stage (his third so far in 2011), and the green jersey - it's a good colour; it suits him. I'm impressed by the way he came back from his defeat on the line the previous day at the hands (or feet) of André Greipel to reclaim his dominance - few can beat him in a sprint; he's an amazing little Manx dynamo. Good for him.

I'll be Mark Cavendish

Mark Cavendish has won another stage in Le Tour. We are watching all night - hence the lack of sleep. I love Le Tour, as I have mentioned before. In a great quote from the Guardian it is described as 'chess on wheels'.

I yearn for those sunny villages shown in the helicopter shots as the cameras cruise over castles and chateaux - I'm not sure if it's the history and culture I crave, or just the warmth and sunshine and lack of wind.

Anyway, apparently when he was about 15 Mark Cavendish went out on a training ride with a couple of mates. One said, "I'll be Eric Zabel"; the other said "I'll be Robbie McEwen". Mark Cavendish said, "I'll be Mark Cavendish". People accuse him of arrogance, but maybe that's the attitude you need to win races.

You've got to know you're good and you've got to believe in yourself. There's an expression, 'If you've got it; flaunt it' - I've never agreed with that expression, but I do think that if you've got it, you should use it and be honest about it.

The Wombles

While watching the Tour de France the other day I was impressed with the beautiful town of Cholet which hosted day four (the individual time trial) and was the start of day five. Apparently the town probably takes its name from the Latin ‘cauletum’, meaning cabbage, and owes the rise of its prosperity to the settlement of weavers; the chief industry is still the manufacture of linen and linen handkerchiefs.

I got to wondering whether this is where Madame Cholet from The Wombles got her name. And then I went into a merry meandering reminiscence about ‘70s children’s TV in general and The Wombles in particular. I used to love these furry little creatures who toddled about Wimbledon Common making good use of the things that they found from the things that the everyday folk left behind.

These days they have been appropriated by the eco-Nazis who like to think that they were the original recyclers, but really they were little scally scavengers. I liked the way Orinoco was a lazy fat womble who was inordinately fond of food and forty winks, always trying to shirk the work in favour of a nap. I felt an affiliation with him. I never really liked Wellington who I thought was a bit pompous and self-important. I’m saying no more.

I read the books too by Elizabeth Beresford and I thought they were great, but it was the TV series that really held my attention. The stop motion animation was very appealing to that age group and I was particularly taken by the way their noses wiggled up and down when they ate – much like Paddington Bear’s (another favourite, but I’ll save him for another day).

Bernard Cribbins' narration was a highlight and made it the great show it was. The song passed into my childhood memory, and I mean the ‘Underground overground wombling free; the wombles of Wimbledon Common are we’ one. We once sang it in a school inter-form choir competition – that line in the middle; ‘Pick up the papers and take them to Tobermory’ was incredibly high, even then. I was never a fan of that other thing – ‘Remember you’re a womble’ – although the video of people old enough to know better (you in the mustard polo neck; have you no shame?) dancing along on Top of the Pops is quite amusing.

There was a new series in the ‘90s which I never watched, being far too grown up – but this was also hijacked by political correctness and there was an annoying girl called Alderney with dungarees and pigtails, and a Rastafarian womble called Stepney with dark fur and short dreadlocks. It’s just not the same.

My favourites though were Tobermory and Tomsk – apparently they all chose their names from Great Uncle Bulgaria’s atlas – which explained their exotic sounds. My great aunt made me a Tobermory who was my very favourite soft toy for a while and I would fall asleep cuddling him. I guess this proves that I always liked the athletic, caring type who was strong and could fix things, even if he was a womble.

So who’s your favourite womble, and why?

Tour de France

How fantastic to see Mark Cavendish win a stage of the Tour de France. I must admit to feeling sorry for Vogondy, the French champion, who had been in the lead breakaway for about 200km and got swallowed less than 20m from the line. Apparently there is no place for sentimentality in bike (or any) racing.

I love the colours and the patterns the bikes make as they snake through the beautiful scenery and ancient villages. I love the etiquette and the customs that temper the competitiveness; the way a rider is allowed to lead through his village or on his birthday; the way it is considered unsporting to attack a leading rider delayed by mechanical breakdown or other misfortune, one who is eating in the feed zone or satisfying un besoin naturel.

The language of the tour is another highlight - yes, I know, it's French. I love the Kraftwerk song with it's completely mad lyrics. I love the terminology: flamme rouge; prologue; lanterne rouge; voiture balai; domestique; peloton; danseuse; musettes; etapes; grupetto; hors categorie - I could go on - it's all music to my ears And then there's the hum of the slick tyres on well-sealed roads; a sound I miss in New Zealand.

Him indoors, watches the tactics and notes who is cycling which gears. It's fun for everyone, and something to watch until the football season starts again.