martint235
Dog on a bike
- Location
- Welling
'Teef, 'Teef, I feel so disappointed. That you could think that Saracens had only one French player. Even I, who doesn't remember a great deal, can remember Castaignede and Ibanez.
FNRttC FNRtC to Newhaven, Dieppe and Paris
- Thread starter dellzeqq
- Start date
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ianmac62
Guru
- Location
- Northampton
Great photo with Arc de Triomphe in background, Stuart!
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
"The remembering amnesiac"
I wasn't concentrating...work demands me, unlike you lot. (And I notice you posted your knowingness a bit late in the day!
) Who rattled your cage anyway?
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
Simon's just hearing on race radio that Brasserie Flo waiters have just made it into their underpants, and will be descending quickly to Leftsocrightsoc...
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
And.
Frank was not present because he was playing big games. Here's what he wrote on Westerley's cycling forum. Well done Francesco!
Frank was not present because he was playing big games. Here's what he wrote on Westerley's cycling forum. Well done Francesco!
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
1950565 said:
I arrived on the office on Tuesday to be met by two large gentlemen handing out goodies to promote the Saracens' new sponsor, a large insurance company. The gentlemen were wearing what I assume was a Saracens top. Prominent on the back of the top was the name of a different large insurance company...
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
"Qbe, or not to be...that is the question,
whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer Allianz..."
whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer Allianz..."
srw
It's a bit more complicated than that...
Impressive."Qbe, or not to be...that is the question,
whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer Allianz..."
Des esgargots, et tout ca...
It's fair to say, that if every decision I make on a whim for the rest of my life played out as well as this one, then it would be a very charmed life I would lead. Whilst the ferry journey can only be described as ""necessary", similar in fact to the outskirts of Paris, the good company, fine weather and Parisian joie de vivre more than made up for it; I would give special mention to a certain Mr.Wiggins here for capping things off, but in fact that is reserved for Martin- thank you again for your generosity.
It mostly went as follows... removing the rack and pannier from solitary confiment post LEJOG, they were hastily stuffed full of tent and sleeping bag, a whole two t shirts, shorts and flip flops -luxury. Ferry tickets booked and hand drawn maps to campsites made, up at 3am and off by 4. Point bike towards Newhaven and pedal south, do not stop "ooh a deer" - must ask Simon why one has never run across the road in front of me on one of his night rides. Maccy D's. Ferry. Dieppe, bar, cycling on the tv, french bar man accuses Wiggins of le dopage- scandalous! Campsite in Offranville, dine at Brasserie Carrefour, try to sleep, mostly not. Arise, pack and go in search of un café. Repair puncture then ride west, find a coastal vantage point and wait for the ferry to pop into view. Back to Dieppe, meet, eat, then admit defeat looking for TM on the way back from the restaurant- par for the course in Sheffield.
Riding to Paris was much the same as going to Newhaven, point in the right direction and keep pedaling, but French villages just seem to be a bit more good, or just different. Stop occasionally for liquid refreshment . Chat endlessly about anything, whilst occasionally cursing the garmin, and eventually reel in the break away group. Pause for the unfortunately needed taxi, before the tap into Paris- beers of triomphe next to the Arc. Resolve strengthened we took on the Parisian traffic and eventually made the hotel, then the walk back to find Flo- fortunatley we spotted Olaf and Catrina on the way who guided us in. We ate with them, aren't they great, and then schlepped back to the hotel through the sights and smells of late night Paris.
The following morning we meandered aimlessly along a vague course for the champs elysees, only called to our senses to help a damsel in distress and complete the quest for souvenir eiffel towers. Soaking up the atmosphere and the midday sun on the Rue de Rivoli and under the flamme rouge we set up camp in the Norwegian corner, perfectly located between race course, bar and big screen. Voigt, Wiggins and then Cavendish! Then off for the real entertainment, aux villes du nord and timbre poste, and a show of long term friendships to aspire to.
The next day after saying goodbye and a la prochaines at aux villes du nord, I headed off to book a late afternoon train to Dieppe at St Lanzar, followed by a ride up and down the champs elysees, staring down the traffic on the arc de triomphe roundabout and marveling at the cues to walk up the Eiffel Tower...mad. Train was easy, second choice of campsite in a Dieppe was a bad one. Waiting for the ferry now means I know the place very well, nice beach, and the barman from Thursday afternoon remembered me! Met a few more cyclists and Wiggo fans on the ferry, as well as the intrepid fridays riders of Rouen, another who thought the team was "RaDobank" (tut) and an Italian guy riding from Verona to London to watch his female diving friend compete (watch out for Tania Cagnotto) - he was hauling a 20kg trailer and had been lent an electric bicycle to help (see below). Then I failed to say goodbye, had canine terrors, cursed my way over Ide Hill and various others and collapsed into bed.
Boat
Marginal gains from second panier
Aww
Wiggins and Froome
Generic Parisian scene
Maillot jaune
Timbre
20kgs
And for future reference
It's fair to say, that if every decision I make on a whim for the rest of my life played out as well as this one, then it would be a very charmed life I would lead. Whilst the ferry journey can only be described as ""necessary", similar in fact to the outskirts of Paris, the good company, fine weather and Parisian joie de vivre more than made up for it; I would give special mention to a certain Mr.Wiggins here for capping things off, but in fact that is reserved for Martin- thank you again for your generosity.
It mostly went as follows... removing the rack and pannier from solitary confiment post LEJOG, they were hastily stuffed full of tent and sleeping bag, a whole two t shirts, shorts and flip flops -luxury. Ferry tickets booked and hand drawn maps to campsites made, up at 3am and off by 4. Point bike towards Newhaven and pedal south, do not stop "ooh a deer" - must ask Simon why one has never run across the road in front of me on one of his night rides. Maccy D's. Ferry. Dieppe, bar, cycling on the tv, french bar man accuses Wiggins of le dopage- scandalous! Campsite in Offranville, dine at Brasserie Carrefour, try to sleep, mostly not. Arise, pack and go in search of un café. Repair puncture then ride west, find a coastal vantage point and wait for the ferry to pop into view. Back to Dieppe, meet, eat, then admit defeat looking for TM on the way back from the restaurant- par for the course in Sheffield.
Riding to Paris was much the same as going to Newhaven, point in the right direction and keep pedaling, but French villages just seem to be a bit more good, or just different. Stop occasionally for liquid refreshment . Chat endlessly about anything, whilst occasionally cursing the garmin, and eventually reel in the break away group. Pause for the unfortunately needed taxi, before the tap into Paris- beers of triomphe next to the Arc. Resolve strengthened we took on the Parisian traffic and eventually made the hotel, then the walk back to find Flo- fortunatley we spotted Olaf and Catrina on the way who guided us in. We ate with them, aren't they great, and then schlepped back to the hotel through the sights and smells of late night Paris.
The following morning we meandered aimlessly along a vague course for the champs elysees, only called to our senses to help a damsel in distress and complete the quest for souvenir eiffel towers. Soaking up the atmosphere and the midday sun on the Rue de Rivoli and under the flamme rouge we set up camp in the Norwegian corner, perfectly located between race course, bar and big screen. Voigt, Wiggins and then Cavendish! Then off for the real entertainment, aux villes du nord and timbre poste, and a show of long term friendships to aspire to.
The next day after saying goodbye and a la prochaines at aux villes du nord, I headed off to book a late afternoon train to Dieppe at St Lanzar, followed by a ride up and down the champs elysees, staring down the traffic on the arc de triomphe roundabout and marveling at the cues to walk up the Eiffel Tower...mad. Train was easy, second choice of campsite in a Dieppe was a bad one. Waiting for the ferry now means I know the place very well, nice beach, and the barman from Thursday afternoon remembered me! Met a few more cyclists and Wiggo fans on the ferry, as well as the intrepid fridays riders of Rouen, another who thought the team was "RaDobank" (tut) and an Italian guy riding from Verona to London to watch his female diving friend compete (watch out for Tania Cagnotto) - he was hauling a 20kg trailer and had been lent an electric bicycle to help (see below). Then I failed to say goodbye, had canine terrors, cursed my way over Ide Hill and various others and collapsed into bed.
Boat
Marginal gains from second panier
Aww
Wiggins and Froome
Generic Parisian scene
Maillot jaune
Timbre
20kgs
And for future reference
Amazing to see Ann Bath coming in at 327 miles. She must be in her mid-fifties, completely unassuming, but every year she racks up the most amazing mileage, the Mersey Roads being at the pinnacle. And big up Ian Hennessey at 405 miles, who is no spring chicken either - a man of steel!
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
Good for them also! I would probably have forgotten what I was doing sitting on my bike at that distance. Frank is but a 'junior' and will crack 400 I'll bet.
Meanwhile, Ultan Coyle, the winner, bimbled around for 24 hours at an average mph of 20+ - impressive in a different way.
Nice photo or two there Andy - I forgot about the ducks - it was a beautiful sight. The woman standing behind her front gate, opposite the pursuit kept calling out "C'est la campagne, c'est la campagne" and smiling broadly. She had only a few teeth...C'est la campagne I thought to myself. The duck was boss and the babies kept formation perfectly - it was a lucky sighting, and heartwarming too.
After all that, the ballade started (later) today - a week ago...where has the time gone?
Meanwhile, Ultan Coyle, the winner, bimbled around for 24 hours at an average mph of 20+ - impressive in a different way.
Nice photo or two there Andy - I forgot about the ducks - it was a beautiful sight. The woman standing behind her front gate, opposite the pursuit kept calling out "C'est la campagne, c'est la campagne" and smiling broadly. She had only a few teeth...C'est la campagne I thought to myself. The duck was boss and the babies kept formation perfectly - it was a lucky sighting, and heartwarming too.
After all that, the ballade started (later) today - a week ago...where has the time gone?
Agent Hilda
The Babe
Agent Hilda French Ride Report – based on real events, as Comrade DZ pointed out to me this morning.
LONDON TO NEWHAVEN
I have been very distracted since Paris what with the Olympics and under-takers and deciding what nice outfit to wear on the Brommie this week, it’s taken a while to gather my thoughts on London-Dieppe-Paris. Plus this stupid cc forum thingy keeps deleting all my work so I will be surprised if anyone gets to read this!!
I love going to Paris with the old man, but once again we had to take The Fridays with us. Frankly annoying AND no The Claud to rescue me from inappropriate questions about my 110’s or Adrian my fave drinking companion, It was going to be tricky.
Things didn’t get off on the best foot as I was held at work all day in 5 meetings which seems to me to be a bit excessive for a Friday when normally I go home and have a snooze while DZ pumps my tyres and puts batteries in the complicated big light I have on the front.
Plus, it was going to be exhausting cycling all night as it was after DZ declined to Sherpa for me on the grounds that I should be setting an example and it was my own bloody choice anyway having a backpack not wanting to litter up The Rube with un-necessaries.
Anyway we sloped into Victoria as usual and then onto The War Memorial. People were looking pretty spiffy and User10571 arrived which is always sexy. A strange woman gave me a package to carry for Stephen and I thanked my lucky stars my mum couldn’t see me take this as this goes right against all her advice when travelling.
We left London avoiding all the security men/bmw’s/barriers/road blocks and cruise missiles that we could and headed off towards Surrey I reckon, as that is on the way to Sussex and New Haven.
DZ kindly took note of all the extra weight I was carrying and cut out some of the worst hills and we were able to cycle at a reasonable pace through the sparkling moon lit night to Gatwick Airport where we had a lovely pit stop of egg sandwiches and wees and watched people come in off their hols looking all brown and a bit knackered.
Onwards through the night with a couple of stops for itinerants and the dawn which was lovely.
Frankly The Rube was cute and got me along very nicely even with the backpack pain slowing me down natch.
We arrived in Newhaven very promptly and after a slight misunderstanding with another fellow managed to handover the package that had been weighing me down all night and have three cups of coffee and kiss the boys goodbye.
NEWHAVEN TO DIEPPE
Next we were on a Ferry and had to try and stop the regulars drinking too much as they had to cycle to Paris the next day – you know the rest it was like pissing in the wind frankly so me and Dell went to bed for while in bunk beds in a lovely cabin loaned to us by that very respectable Ingrid and Stephen and jolly good it was too and less of the comments please Teef.
After a somewhat haphazard depart off the ferry and some charming of Gendarmeries Walnuts/Teef/McIan/Else and Long Tall Martin got through customs. Dell then led the rest of us through the streets of Dieppe and into the lovely lovely countryside leaving the boys and girls to shower up and get down with it in the bars of Dieppe. You know the rest.
DIEPPE TO SAINT SANS
Us sober types meandered through the charming countryside on lovely roads and saw tractors, mopeds, huge great big lorries and women in head scarfs. There were fabulous white cows very merry looking and making one think of cheese for some reason. We didn’t see any piglets which was disappointing but then the French aint famous for their bacon sandwiches.
Can I just say that The Rube was plus Sexy by this time and I was riding dreamy but not looking my best.
We arrived at our Chateau and met the marvelous concierges who although slightly eccentric fitted the bill perfectly. The bathroom was huge! Del washed out our shorts whist I had a little lay down and moan. Expertly ignoring me, Dell then took us into town and we had a lovely stroll into the village which was very romantic I think and properly French
Del said we could sit down and have a beer. It was the most marvellous glass of beer I have ever had. Dammit it was good and I was surprised as Dell doesn’t normally let us drink before big rides, a tip he got off Dave Brailsford who stops Bradley getting pissed up before a big hill.
SAINT SANS TO PARIS
Next morning it was even more romantic than the day before! Crikey the French can turn it on. We silently left our little Château in the early morning sun as the mist clung to the tops of the trees, with the scent of honeysuckle and rose, we said bonjour to a passing onion seller and saluted a pony feeding her foal.
The Rube was running fit for the Spanish and fits nicely behind the Colnago as you all know.
Then we met the others who were fairly noisy it must be said and demanding of attention as always.
The weather was wonderful though and the lack of dogs even more so. We had lovely ups and downs all the way to another café au lait and some ham in baguette.
THE ACCIDENT
If only George had managed not to fall off going downhill and jam a peddle in his leg we would have had 100% happiness on the ride!
Luckily for him Nurse Hilda was on hand and I was able to boss everyone around with authority as I am damn good at putting on plasters and examining young men for signs of fainting and the such like and I have always liked CSI and hospital shows so know exactly what to do in emergencies, trust me.
Sahar was a brilliant assistant – have you ever met a sweeter nicer person in your life? She was a Saint and did not have hysterics and shout at George for being ‘a complete farking idiot falling off and getting injured and what was she supposed to do now?’ like what I would have had it been DZ on the ground (as if!!).
After a long lunch and a sad goodbye to George and Sahar we hit the road to Paris. Happily for me Teef had arrived avec Cater who I adore and so we had good companionship to make up for the loss of G&S who were really missed. My that Cater can get up those slopes even with a massive hangover!
We rode into Paris avoiding near death on several occasions but in lovely weather sadly it was all a bit too much and I got close to having big time hysterics on the Champs. Dell made us have our photo taken at the ADT and for reference in future times as I aint ever doing that again. Then he made us cycle round it. Enough said!!
My mood bottomed out on the cobbles to the hotel (even The Rube hates cobbles) and we took our bikes up to our rooms and headed off to dinner through Little Africa and into possibly the most French of French Bistros we could find. Another pint of beer really hit the spot and we had a bit of a laugh over our steaks and wine, but honestly I was ready for sleeps. Hah! Sleeps? Not in Paris with a room on the road and bunch of pissed up Parisiennes outside having one long tdf party!!
HOME
The Eurostar home made up for it. Dell was on great form and made me laugh all the way to London. We got home had cold showers (no hot water) and went off to see our bestest mates for a massive pissup with Bradley on the TV and BBQ in the garden.
woop Woop!
til the next then . . . stay safe and keep it clean
Agent Hilda x
LONDON TO NEWHAVEN
I have been very distracted since Paris what with the Olympics and under-takers and deciding what nice outfit to wear on the Brommie this week, it’s taken a while to gather my thoughts on London-Dieppe-Paris. Plus this stupid cc forum thingy keeps deleting all my work so I will be surprised if anyone gets to read this!!
I love going to Paris with the old man, but once again we had to take The Fridays with us. Frankly annoying AND no The Claud to rescue me from inappropriate questions about my 110’s or Adrian my fave drinking companion, It was going to be tricky.
Things didn’t get off on the best foot as I was held at work all day in 5 meetings which seems to me to be a bit excessive for a Friday when normally I go home and have a snooze while DZ pumps my tyres and puts batteries in the complicated big light I have on the front.
Plus, it was going to be exhausting cycling all night as it was after DZ declined to Sherpa for me on the grounds that I should be setting an example and it was my own bloody choice anyway having a backpack not wanting to litter up The Rube with un-necessaries.
Anyway we sloped into Victoria as usual and then onto The War Memorial. People were looking pretty spiffy and User10571 arrived which is always sexy. A strange woman gave me a package to carry for Stephen and I thanked my lucky stars my mum couldn’t see me take this as this goes right against all her advice when travelling.
We left London avoiding all the security men/bmw’s/barriers/road blocks and cruise missiles that we could and headed off towards Surrey I reckon, as that is on the way to Sussex and New Haven.
DZ kindly took note of all the extra weight I was carrying and cut out some of the worst hills and we were able to cycle at a reasonable pace through the sparkling moon lit night to Gatwick Airport where we had a lovely pit stop of egg sandwiches and wees and watched people come in off their hols looking all brown and a bit knackered.
Onwards through the night with a couple of stops for itinerants and the dawn which was lovely.
Frankly The Rube was cute and got me along very nicely even with the backpack pain slowing me down natch.
We arrived in Newhaven very promptly and after a slight misunderstanding with another fellow managed to handover the package that had been weighing me down all night and have three cups of coffee and kiss the boys goodbye.
NEWHAVEN TO DIEPPE
Next we were on a Ferry and had to try and stop the regulars drinking too much as they had to cycle to Paris the next day – you know the rest it was like pissing in the wind frankly so me and Dell went to bed for while in bunk beds in a lovely cabin loaned to us by that very respectable Ingrid and Stephen and jolly good it was too and less of the comments please Teef.
After a somewhat haphazard depart off the ferry and some charming of Gendarmeries Walnuts/Teef/McIan/Else and Long Tall Martin got through customs. Dell then led the rest of us through the streets of Dieppe and into the lovely lovely countryside leaving the boys and girls to shower up and get down with it in the bars of Dieppe. You know the rest.
DIEPPE TO SAINT SANS
Us sober types meandered through the charming countryside on lovely roads and saw tractors, mopeds, huge great big lorries and women in head scarfs. There were fabulous white cows very merry looking and making one think of cheese for some reason. We didn’t see any piglets which was disappointing but then the French aint famous for their bacon sandwiches.
Can I just say that The Rube was plus Sexy by this time and I was riding dreamy but not looking my best.
We arrived at our Chateau and met the marvelous concierges who although slightly eccentric fitted the bill perfectly. The bathroom was huge! Del washed out our shorts whist I had a little lay down and moan. Expertly ignoring me, Dell then took us into town and we had a lovely stroll into the village which was very romantic I think and properly French
Del said we could sit down and have a beer. It was the most marvellous glass of beer I have ever had. Dammit it was good and I was surprised as Dell doesn’t normally let us drink before big rides, a tip he got off Dave Brailsford who stops Bradley getting pissed up before a big hill.
SAINT SANS TO PARIS
Next morning it was even more romantic than the day before! Crikey the French can turn it on. We silently left our little Château in the early morning sun as the mist clung to the tops of the trees, with the scent of honeysuckle and rose, we said bonjour to a passing onion seller and saluted a pony feeding her foal.
The Rube was running fit for the Spanish and fits nicely behind the Colnago as you all know.
Then we met the others who were fairly noisy it must be said and demanding of attention as always.
The weather was wonderful though and the lack of dogs even more so. We had lovely ups and downs all the way to another café au lait and some ham in baguette.
THE ACCIDENT
If only George had managed not to fall off going downhill and jam a peddle in his leg we would have had 100% happiness on the ride!
Luckily for him Nurse Hilda was on hand and I was able to boss everyone around with authority as I am damn good at putting on plasters and examining young men for signs of fainting and the such like and I have always liked CSI and hospital shows so know exactly what to do in emergencies, trust me.
Sahar was a brilliant assistant – have you ever met a sweeter nicer person in your life? She was a Saint and did not have hysterics and shout at George for being ‘a complete farking idiot falling off and getting injured and what was she supposed to do now?’ like what I would have had it been DZ on the ground (as if!!).
After a long lunch and a sad goodbye to George and Sahar we hit the road to Paris. Happily for me Teef had arrived avec Cater who I adore and so we had good companionship to make up for the loss of G&S who were really missed. My that Cater can get up those slopes even with a massive hangover!
We rode into Paris avoiding near death on several occasions but in lovely weather sadly it was all a bit too much and I got close to having big time hysterics on the Champs. Dell made us have our photo taken at the ADT and for reference in future times as I aint ever doing that again. Then he made us cycle round it. Enough said!!
My mood bottomed out on the cobbles to the hotel (even The Rube hates cobbles) and we took our bikes up to our rooms and headed off to dinner through Little Africa and into possibly the most French of French Bistros we could find. Another pint of beer really hit the spot and we had a bit of a laugh over our steaks and wine, but honestly I was ready for sleeps. Hah! Sleeps? Not in Paris with a room on the road and bunch of pissed up Parisiennes outside having one long tdf party!!
HOME
The Eurostar home made up for it. Dell was on great form and made me laugh all the way to London. We got home had cold showers (no hot water) and went off to see our bestest mates for a massive pissup with Bradley on the TV and BBQ in the garden.
woop Woop!
til the next then . . . stay safe and keep it clean
Agent Hilda x
Aperitif
Meme bar
- Location
- ...I don't have much idea - really.
"The Hilda; alive with the sound of moo... (sic)"
A nice piece of prose, with 'cons' of Dieppe giving way to 'PUPs' in the street - great! Thank you.
Did you not get roused by "the dust", battering every bin into submission at about 6am? (We did, or more correctly, I did, as students are known for their comatose habit.
)
On Eurostar, I sat next to a bloke playing Scrabble on his phone, with the earplugs in...I was lost for words, and slept, dreaming of the wonders of the world.
Actually, given the chat about Benazzi and Sella who played for France, 'Agen Hilda' might have found favour.
A nice piece of prose, with 'cons' of Dieppe giving way to 'PUPs' in the street - great! Thank you.
Did you not get roused by "the dust", battering every bin into submission at about 6am? (We did, or more correctly, I did, as students are known for their comatose habit.
)On Eurostar, I sat next to a bloke playing Scrabble on his phone, with the earplugs in...I was lost for words, and slept, dreaming of the wonders of the world.
Actually, given the chat about Benazzi and Sella who played for France, 'Agen Hilda' might have found favour.
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