Le Tour de France est parti

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Our friends actually made it through the road blocks to our Le Tour Barbie Day. After some bubbly we made our way through the Demoiselles Coiffées to our spot on the Route du Mont Ventoux.




We stood and drank Crémant and ate brie and chili jam sarnies for an hour...


The Caravan passed by...


Threw lots of very useful things at us such as non biodegradable washing up liquid, nylon T-shirts and Etap hotel night caps....


Julian stayed home looking after the barbecue and watching the action on the telly and, when the cyclists got half way between Mormoiron and Bedoin, he ran.


The helicopter buzzed over our heads to let us know the posse were on their way. And then, in less than a minute they were gone.

I only got a Caisse d'Epargne cycle clip which I am pretending is a Livestrong bracelet. We didn't see Lance or Bradley, though I cried for them, but we had a blast. Then we walked home and had a feast.

Now the house is calm. The guests have gone and, more importantly, so has the eternal racket of the Tour on telly. Now, coming from Julian's studio, there are the low tones once again of books on tape. People called Julius and Lydia have replaced Lance and Brad. Love has replaced competition. A beach in Norfolk has replaced a mountain in Provence.

The mountain, like me, is breathing a big sigh. Even Julian seems relieved!

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