I caught a wee bit of the Tour de Yorkshire today and event that took place in high winds and cold rain. Judging by the snow atop the distant mountains I suspect the riders met sleet or some snow on their way from Beverley to Settle. These poor blokes must have spent hours in the saddle up hill and down dale keeping to their team leaders orders and hoping at the end it was all worth it.
Slippery wet roads and steep hill climbs do not make for fun cycling and I am glad that such opportunities are unavailable here in the hot and warm sun filled south. (That's satire by the way)
One thing I like about these races is the view behind the riders. As they chase down the breakaway mob at speeds of thirty or forty miles an hour, sweating and gnashing teeth as they climb hills in the lowest gear, I find my eyes wandering to the sights around them. Today we had somewhat bleak Yorkshire moors covered in purple heather and stone walls, hand built, that stretched for miles. On occasion the helicopter above startled sheep who raced across the fields each accompanied by their new born lambs. Strange pot marked fields, small tree lined streams and many stone hump backed bridges that must be a delight to the speeding motorist passed by with the occasional isolated farmhouse looking ideal for a TV adaption of one of the Brontes dark and dismal books.
It crossed my aged mind that these men grappling with the hills ought to slow down and just enjoy the view. Yes I realise that this is their employment and that the desire to prove yourself capable of cycling hundreds of miles over tough conditions is important to young males but in the end the majority finish in what they call the 'Pelaton' and while satisfied in many ways they have missed watching the country around them. These international riders have missed the whole of Europe at one time or another. Head down they have raced through France, Italy, Belgium and Germany never once noting the wildlife or the beauty of their surroundings. OK they get a wage and are able therefore to pay their bills but bus drivers get a wage and they at least can enjoy the scenery!
These races do make me wish I was out on the bike. Hopefully the weather improves over the Long Weekend May Bank Holiday and I might get a trundle around the quiet streets. I will of course require a massage afterwards and any young lass who is free can call.
I stopped off at the museum today to chat with the curator about a question on photographs and met her as she was off out to lunch. That ended that query, to which she has still not emailed the reply, and this left me with the Friday girls gossiping as they usually do. As I was asking important questions of great moment I was instructed to carry three boxes of copy paper to the store. This struck me as interesting as it reveals the harm feminism and the false equality nonsense has brought us to. In 1915 in an effort to aid the war effort Edinburgh women, though most likely these were lassies from Leith, went out of their way to fill the jobs done by men. Here we see such delivering coal to a house and not one of them is demanding a man lifts and carries for them. Today two strapping fit women could not move three boxes as a man was in the vicinity, Tsk! I blame Germain Greer and all those other middle class women (mostly without men) who's daft unrealistic ideas have ruined womanhood.
I wonder if the massage lady could iron some shirts when she is at it...?
11 comments:
Massages, is it?
I could send over our old friend Osman - Turkish man mountain - armed with a bottle of horse liniment...or is that not quite what you had in mind?
I can't stand Germaine Greer...never have. She's a loud-mouthed academic who lives under the false impression she has brains and is important. She never has been important in my book.
As for cycling...I'll stick to driving my little Toyota Echo from here to there and back again. It's easier for me to climb in and out of it than trying to climb on and off a bike. "Trying" being the operative word! :)
A cyclist almost gave me a heart attack this morning when he whizzed out in front of me with little warning. There are a lot of such lycra-clad creatures on the roads up here on the mountain. I think they breed in the rain-forests around the Cedar Falls area!
Like Lee, I am not a big fan of bikers. They like to try and whiz past us as we are walking and even though they are supposed to share the path with us on the trails here, they don't seem to want to do so.
My sweet husband has thought of sticking out his very long arm as they pass...sounds strange but you haven't seen how close they come to him!
Saw a documentary about Lance Armstrong, what a ... well, you know!
I agree with Lee about GG. On the rest of it .. When you are finished with your char lady, send her my way.
Goodness me! You've gone very dark, Mr Adullamite. When did that happen? That will teach me to read through a feed reader.
I've never understood the tactics of cycle racing. I believe there are some.
As I read I found that you too love the scenery of the bike races just like I do. I have been pondering about getting a bike to ride on the trails near the river (River walks) but I fear the dog owners who have their heads in the cloud and cannot tell their left from right as I yell "On your Left or right so they will move out of my way. At my age I might not get over a bike /dog wreck. I am using my time today on the computer to read all the post I have missed. Peace
Lee, I agree re Greer.
Kay, Bikers like me are always nice...
Carol, No way!
Sheila, Cycle tactics are obscure to em also.
Lady, Bikes on nice lanes are good fun, but be careful.
Fly, You keep Osman where he is!!!!
I went out on the bike for only the second time this year although I have pedalled a few miles here and there. A beautiful day weather wise and stopped to admire so many of the small old churches East Anglia is famous for. Luckily as you know it's mostly flat and nobody was mistaking me for part of the Tour de Suffolk. Oh well next time I will go further ...
Jenny, Lovely back roads around here and not to bad hill wise.
Post a Comment