A (semi) Pro's Log
| Saturday 7 July, 2007 |
 It was tat on a stick |
But before the prologue peddled into action, there was yet more Tour pomp to come. In this country when you say 'I'm going to see the caravan,' it means you are going to see the gypos. But there was nothing pikey about the prelude to the prologue early on Saturday afternoon.
Actually that's a lie - it was tat on a stick. I loved it, right down to the mad scramble on the streets of Whitehall for a crap free pen, thrown into the crowd from the Caravan procession.
Just as the pelaton becomes a single beast, Le Tour Caravan is a procession of pap, somehow taking on a single identity and chucking random pieces of junk into the crowd.
It's a Tour tradition and greets the penny pinching crowd an hour before the pelaton passes through for the three week duration of Le Tour.
My particular party of pikeys decided to make a competition out of all the pap. Prizes were awarded for who could amass the most crap, and who could come home with the most valuable item. I was after blagging a T-mobile phone.
mrs obb managed to amass the most, although to be fair, her she left obb HQ II with a bag stuffed full of junk at the start of the day. A Friend from the North was rather more excited than I was with a pen, which when tilted, revealed a rider moving up and down the shaft.
'Is that it?' I asked. 'Isn't he going to strip naked and reveal his lunchbox like my teenage comedy pen collection?'
But no need for further hilarity. The Caravan even boasted the first pro-bike cabbies. Dear old Brian Haw had the best seats in the house, as well as the best toilets with a dozen or so portaloos parked right in his back garden.
With the Caravan complete, it was time for the prologue warm up. Groups of riders rode the 7.9 km course at a leisurely pace, getting a feel for the London streets and working out where that extra tenth of a second was going to come from.
Not from Parliament Square, mate; you'll get cut up by one of those pro-bike cabbies.
This was the perfect picture opportunity for any photography loving peddler. With the soundtrack of carbon frames speeding past you and the sun on your back, this had to be the perfect way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
I took up a vantage point on Victoria Street where the crowds were only a couple deep. Reports were coming in of crowd chaos at Hyde Park, and so I was happy to remain in SW1 for the start of the prologue.
A middle-aged couple walked past, laden down with John Lewis bags and oblivious to the occasion. I felt like slapping them across the face and shouting:
'Danger! Danger! The greatest sporting event on the planet is about to speed past you, and all you can do is buy another fondue set from John Lewis. Death by chocolate is too generous for such extreme knobbery.'
And then as Big Ben struck three, the riders sped past, one by one, in thirty second intervals. This was a straight race against the clock to see who has the honour of cycling in maillot jaune for the first stage on Sunday.
After half an hour at Victoria Street, we moved on and slowly walked around the course. Some Happy Clappers at Westminster Chapel tried to hijack Le Tour. Shake a tambourine in my face and I'll dump a bag full of Le Tour tat right on your altar.
Much has been made of Kuddly Ken's desire for Le Grand Depart to leave London on 07/07, reclaiming the agenda and all that. But the real reason is that female French exchange students flock to the capital at this time of the year.
Ohh la la! Etes-vous plus de seize, Madame?
With more reports being heard of how the entire population of London had decamped to Hyde Park, we settled down in front of a big screen at Green Park for the final hour of prologue action.
The city looked stunning from the ariel camera views up above. The atmosphere in the park was chilled and infectious. With riders being viewed on the big screen, each time they passed along the side of Constitution Hill, a large roar could be heard.
Fifteen years ago I was spending my weekends at this time of the year in a similar communal atmosphere, watching ropey bands and boozing even ropier beer.
Some things slightly change; some things slightly re-invent themselves. Cycling is the main focus in my life now. It was truly wonderful to see such a loner activity being embraced and celebrated in my city for one glorious sunny afternoon in the summer.
This has been a perfect prologue for London; the riders, the organisation and the crowds have all helped to confirm London's status of Cycling City.
Chapeau!
Plus: Wet your pants with more of my prologue pictures over HERE.
