Of course the Tour de France is just that and I am realising that I’m not getting quite as much France as I’d expected with my Tour…
Today’s stage ended in Foix and the bit of Foix I saw felt almost Italian in the way those houses were stacked up on top of each other by the river. Then, as we waited for the riders to come in, I suddenly imagined the street in front of me full of excited fans and in monochrome as if we were at a Tour in the fifties. Even better today’s stage was won by the breakaway which made my black and white Tour image even more complete.
As we escaped from Foix the warm air hung over the harvested fields and we drove along a road lined with trees. And now this evening we find outselves camped out miles from anywhere and it’s one of those gorgeous summer evenings you never get in LA and I’ve been transported back to my youth when summer evenings seemed endless and the future was infinite. I’m in France at last.