Richie Richie Richie Richie Richie ....

So we’re sitting here in the riders’ enclosure, at around 1pm. It’s been a full-on day so far. Tam and Evan, the six-year-old boy, now can’t be near each other without bickering. So that’s the end of that, at least for a while. He is a snooty little bugger (am I biased? AM I?) and I have to admit that Tam’s non-stop high-decibel inquisitive friendliness onslaught is exhausting even for me – so a US private school only child with parents who are clearly trying to make him a genius at everything is not likely to be receptive all the time. He’s just mean, in my opinion. I’m on Tam’s side. 

I had a row this morning with scary woman too. I always see both sides of every argument, and can be persuaded to change my stance if the arguments are valid. Sometimes this is a good trait, sometimes a bad one. Today I was fed up with it and lashed out. Scary woman is a huge Lance fan. I let that go as she ranted on about it, as everyone is entitled to a different opinion to me (those who know me and cycling know just how much I loathe that man and his sanctimonious hypocrisy – it’s the only subject I hate talking about with non-cycling fans more than doping).

Then she sets off on Bradley Wiggins, and how Froome deserved to win last year and was held up by Bradley. Well, crap, woman, crap. I thought for a minute about how I’d let her have her opinion on this – but then I realised my opinion wasn’t getting any airing on any subject, so I bashed her a bit with Wiggins-ism. For god’s sake, a leader is chosen for a reason, a team is built around a leader with roles in mind. Froome was inconsistent last year, immature at times and prone to recurrent bouts of bilharzia. And his push on Wiggins in the mountains, which many have interpreted as an attempt to attack a weaker rider, I saw as an effort to push a leader who was trying to conserve energy – and when Froome came back to Wiggins as he was told to, this conservation proved to have worked: Wiggins – and the team, more importantly – won the Tour de France. This had been the objective, and Froome had his role in it – as a team member.

That’s not to say that I don’t like Chris Froome. He bugged me last year but he’s grown on me – and not just because he’s winning. He’s shown more maturity and an equanimity of spirit, and has worked well in the team. He needed to learn some humility, and it seems he did. I’m glad he’s in the jersey – and it’s not as if he had to wait long for the team to work around him for the Tour! But don’t bash my Bradley otherwise I’ll bash you, scary woman!

Meanwhile, the others all hate scary woman and are ganging up on her. I’m not doing that, shit no. I hate ganging up and bullying – so the rift between me and Tam and them is even bigger than before – and I’m calmer now. Where I’m sitting now I can see loads of them and have no desire to get involved in their silly conversations. My silly dribbling to self is way more important.

If I thought the trip yesterday was vomitous, this one this morning was vomitous maximus. Nightmare detour through the Alps. Absolutely beautiful (of course I have used small child as an excuse to get the front seat every journey), and I don’t get car sick, so I was fine. But I did have to manage Tam, who fluctuated between high-volume Khmer songs straight down my ear and trying to throw up down my cleavage.

Tam and I are taking it easy, with apples and bread and water and computer and Kindle, waiting for Richie and Chris. Geraint had gone by the time we got here, sadly. But a man in the Sky car saw Tam and beckoned us over – she charmed him, and I dredged up some flirting skills (it was like pulling up an algae-covered old boot from the bottom of a polluted lake) and apparently we’re going to be able to meet him when he gets here – he’s going to try it for us. Superb.

Later ….

Bleurgh.

On the positive side: Tam got a personal interview with Richie Porte. My flirting is good for something. Sad that she wouldn’t get her face out of my neck for the whole thing, but he came over, talked to her a lot and was generally really nice. I took loads of photos: one example to the right – apologies if it maaaay be a bit blurry – I got a bit over-excited/starstruck/shaky handsish. Then I accidentally reset my phone. So, no real photos of the event, no. Then he gave us his autograph and he also waved at Tam while warming up. He did not bother with anyone else, hurrah! Meanwhile, the NBC crew spotted Tam and tried to do a feature on her. Naturally, her face went back into my neck, but we were nearly famous there!

I also saw (and photographed) Chris Froome and Contador, but other than that I stayed under a tree to give Tam a quieter day. The results of the time trial will be known, and again I did not learn of them from our day out, so no point in reviewing that – I didn’t see anything that anyone else didn’t. We watched the end in a bar where nobody wanted the rosbif to win.

On the negative side: we are totally fucking stuck in traffic. I am typing this on a bus. Tam is asleep in my crotch. We will be back at the hotel in about three hours (it’s already 7pm). Tam and I have eaten nothing except an apple and a croissant since 7am today. And tomorrow looks like a beast. We are leaving for Alpe d’Huez at 7am.