Central London CTC blog

So, the yellow fever that gripped London in July didn’t last long.

Crystal Palace, sarf London: two men and a dog. The sponsors were struggling to give sun-hats away. A smattering of locals, a few clubs in kit, and, I suspect, most of the rest were friends and family. And us, thanks to a last-minute plan to have a short roll round Kent. No big screens, no enlightening commentary – even the riders, as they stormed over the line and turned to check their time, could see only a garbled mess of numbers.

But the rest of London’s oblivion proved to be my backstage pass: there’s no trouble bagging a spot just behind the start ramp, so close I know who is who simply by reading names written on frames. The old hands joke with the marshals in Bel-glish, the young lads look terrified. As one by one they roll onto the ramp, the start-line announcer lists a staggering array of Le Tour stages and jerseys, Spring Classics and Pro-Tours, Track Championships and Olympics. T-Mobile’s Czech track sprinter sets the time to beat for most of the afternoon, despite strong cheering for the local lads, but then Cavendish storms round late in the day to take it, looking surprised and rather chuffed. (And then he goes and takes Stage 1 as well!).