As I mentioned briefly when I first started this here blog, I’m a huge fan of cycling. And as a huge cycling fan the hugest cycling highlight of my year is the Tour de France.

So it was with great excitement when I learnt 4 years ago (or something like that, it’s been a while) that the Tour de France would be starting in London in 2007 (that’s this year). What’s more the first stage of the race would be finishing in my home town. Oh Betty, this is exciting! It’s not everyday that you get the chance to go and watch the biggest annual sporting event happen on your own door step.

For those who aren’t cycling fans, or have never seen a stage of the TdF it can be hard to comprehend just how exciting watching 200 men cycle past you at 25mph can be. But let me assure you, it is very exciting!

The Tour organisers know that there’s going to be a lot of people watching each stage (sometimes we’re talking 1,000,000 people plus) and that standing in the hot French sunshine (or the dull Kent drizzle) for hours on end just to watch the bikes whiz by in 2 seconds flat could be a little boring/unrewarding. So they make each day a real carnival.

Sponsors of the Tour drive floats around the course about an hour before the race comes through. done up in all sorts of bright colours, playing loud music and with attractive young females in tight clothing waving at you (this proves that although the average cycling fan might like to think that they are more intelligent than the average football fan, we do share some common ground). This always gives the crowd a lift as a) they know the race is only an hour away and b) the noise, the colours, the waving girls.

Best of all though, the waving attractive young females in tight clothing also throw free stuff at you! This is usually the product that the sponsor sells (coffee grounds, meat products, sweets) or something with their name on (biros, packs of cards, baseball caps). As hard as it might be to believe, this drives millions of fully grown adults in to a state of frenzy. There’s nothing we humans like better than free stuff (even if it is coffee grounds and a biro). As it the free stuff lands at your feet you and half a dozen other usually sane people scrabble around on the floor desperate to claim it (despite not having a clue what it is!). There are some quite sophisticated tactics needed to get the most/best free stuff but that’s for another time.

45 minutes or so after the sponsors floats have gone by and just as you have finished eating the free meat products you start to hear the feint sound of a helicopter. Slightly louder, slightly louder. Then cars speed past you with horns, sirens and radio blasting you with noise again. The race is getting very close. The crowd starts to become agitated as expectation rises. “They’re coming!” “Who will be first through?” “Are they all together still?” “Will I spot my cycling hero?”. These are the thoughts in the fans mind.

The crowd down the road are edging out into the middle blocking our view, so we have to edge out too. A little further, a little further, until it feels like you can touch the bloke on the other side of the road.

Suddenly the crowd parts and the red car of the race organisation comes through and you see the cyclist for the first time. You’re jostling, squinting, clapping, shouting, desperate to get a better view of the riders. But it’s too late, they’re right on top of you now and flying past like an express train through a station. “Allez! Allez! Allez!” you shout, with your head shaking side-to-side as you try to see all the riders. And then they’re gone. The teams cars follow them through so you wait another 30 seconds but that’s it.

The Tour has gone for another day and you only feel like you’ve only seen 10 blokes on bikes rather than 200 (plus you definitely didn’t see Wiggins although you’ll say you did).

4 hours by the side of a road for 30 second’s entertainment and it was completely worth it.

So it was with great excitement that I learnt on the 8th July the Tour was finishing in my home town.

“The baby’s due on the 12th July.” The midwife told us.

“But the Tour. Finishes. Canterbury. The 8th. I’ve waited 4 years.” I muttered.

“I don’t want you to go to Kent, it’s too far if you have to come back in an emergency.” Mrs C told me.

“But the Tour. Canterbury. 4 years…”

“You can go to London on the Saturday to watch the start. That’s only an hour away.” She offered a olive branch.

“Alright.” I accepted my fate like a grumpy toddler.

But Saturday came and went yesterday without me setting foot in London. I was too worried about Mrs C to go. I want to be here when she goes into labour.

I suppose I’ve finally realised that some things are more important than a free biro.