The next morning we discovered that our flags had been stolen off the bikes, much to the annoyance of our 2cv friends and us, well nothing could be done so it was left at that.
As nothing would be happening until about three o’clock in the afternoon or later depending how the race was going. It was to be a chill out day with some sun bathing as once more the sun had his hat on. Breakfast was boil in the bag sausages and beans with bread washed down with much Tea and Coffee.

As the day went on the field started to fill up and we were joined by French families complete with the full picnic gear, Tables chairs cool boxes wine, and food. It was like being on the beach without the sea and sand.
Around lunch time a convoy of 2CVs comprising of nearly every type of 2CV ever made plus a few modified ones drove down the road horns blaring lights flashing much to the joy of the spectators and pulled on to the field and joined the rest of the club.

Later in the afternoon the police drove down and closed the road to traffic in preparation for the big Race. Shortly afterwards we were buzzed by police and press helicopters.
Before the race passed by we were treated to the race caravan, which was all the race sponsors in all types of odd vehicles, these also had young ladies throwing gifts to the crowds. You had to be quick to grab anything as Mick and I soon found out, after nearly getting our hands trapped under a French foot or two. We still managed to come away with a trophy or two.

Shortly after the caravan had past by we could hear the roar of the crowd coming from down the road. A group of motorcycle out riders rode past; overhead the press helicopters had arrived and where flying really low. Everybody craning their necks to see the action, and it was getting exciting! Within minutes the road was just a mass of support cars followed by three lone racers, whoosh they had gone, what seemed like seconds later the main peloton passed riding very fast and in a blur had disappeared up the road, one of the press choppers across the road from us was hovering about ten metres above the ground as they filmed the crowd. While the race was passing us Rocket was lying in the shade fast asleep, missing all the excitement. I looked at Mick and said well that was The Tour De France all over in about four minutes, but it was good, well worth the experience.
Within the hour the field was empty except for our small camp, very strange. That evening was spent getting gear sorted out for our move the next day. Food cooked and eaten followed by drinks under the stars and as it was Bastille Day plenty of fireworks going off all around us from the near by town and villages. As for the loss of our flags, we had the last laugh that day’s stage was won by a British rider. .
WELL DONE MARK CAVENDISH